Moving over to the door, Roger locked it then picked up the keys and went over to the little treasure chest. When he had unlocked it he saw that it had in it a considerable quantity of jewels and a small bag of gold thalers. As he pocketed several fine rings, brooches and diamond shoe and hat buckles, he smiled over his shoulder,' 'Tis only fair that you should pay for my journey back to France, and such of these pretty trinkets as are over I'll keep as souvenirs of this merry meeting. Now for some more suitable clothes. Get out of bed and walk to the door of your closet.'
Again de Brinevillers did as he was told. Roger came up behind him, loosened the gag and said, 'It may be that your man sleeps in the closet. If so, as I open the door you'll immediately order him to remain silent. Should he not, I'll have to kill you both. And you will be the first, for I'll drive my knife through your back.' He then thrust his hand past the Ambassador's waist, gripped the door-knob, turned it and pushed the door open.
The room was in darkness and there was no sound. Roger tightened the gag again and retied the knot.
Turning away, he lit a second candle from the first, kneed de Brinevillers in the backside, which made him stagger forward, and followed him into the closet.
The window was at one end of the long, narrow room; at the other there was a mahogany commode with, on one side of it, a washstand carrying a basin and ewer and, on the other, a small table on which there were a writing pad and a crayon for making notes. Both sides of the room were lined with hanging cupboards and presses. One after the other Roger opened them and took out undergarments, a coat and waistcoat of fine blue cloth, a pair of white buckskin breeches, silk stockings, a frilled lawn shirt, a gold-laced hat, leather riding gloves, a pair of tall boots, spurs and a grey, triple-collared cloak. Stripping to the buff, he threw the dirty, ragged garments he had been wearing on to the floor.
Having dressed himself in his purloined finery, he took a good look at the row of various shaped bottles on a shelf above the washstand. He had no intention of harming de Brinevillers unless it proved necessary, but was determined to humiliate him, and decided that the commode and the items on the shelf provided an adequate means of doing so.
The Ambassador had continued to stand near the door in resigned misery. Roger gave him a push towards the commode then pulled off the pointed nightcap he was wearing, opened it up and put it point downwards in the china receptacle. Tipping only a little water from the ewer into the basin he proceeded to lather his hands well with soap. Having rinsed them he poured the soapy water into a large tooth glass. Swallowing it would, he felt sure, cause anyone to be sick, but he had a mind to make a thorough job of his project; so from various bottles on the shelf he added spoonfuls or a dash of Macassar hair-oil, eau-de-Cologne, hand lotion, bath essence, laxative and insect repellent, until the tumbler was full. Setting the glass down, he made de Brinevillers kneel in front of the commode, then undid his gag and said to him harshly:
'You will now drink this concoction. Should you refuse or attempt to spit it out, I'll slice your ears off.' As he spoke, he picked up the tumbler and held it to the Ambassador's lips.
The wretched man's hands were still bound behind his back, so he could put up no effective resistance. Muttering a curse, he took a sip of the repulsive mixture, screwed up his face and shied away.
With a swift flick of his wrist Roger drew the point of his knife across his victim's right cheek, and snapped, 'Come now! No nonsense! Drink it down or it will be the worse for you.'
The cut was barely skin deep but blood began to ooze from it and it had been painful enough for renewed terror to cause sweat again to break out on de Brinevillers' forehead. Leaning forward he took a gulp from the glass. As he swallowed he made a hideous grimace and his eyes bulged.
Roger grinned. 'That's better, now another.' But the kneeling man violently shook his head and spat out what little of the filthy mixture there remained in his mouth.
'So little Brinne means to be naughty eh?' Roger was frowning now. 'Then nannie must help him take his med-die.' Having laid his knife down on the washstand, he suddenly shot out his free hand and seized the Ambassador by the nose. As he opened his mouth to gasp for breath, Roger lifted the glass against his lower lip and poured half its contents down his gullet.
Still held firmly by the nose, he writhed in agony. His eyes started from his head and sweat, mingling with the blood on his cheek, poured down his face. After a good, long minute, Roger let go of him. His stomach heaved, he gave a great belch and jerking forward his head was violently sick into the nightcap-lined commode.
For several minutes he remained there vomiting and retching. When he lifted his head he was gasping desperately for breath and tears were streaming from his eyes. But Roger still had no mercy on him. Seizing his nose again tightly between finger and thumb, he poured the remaining contents of the glass down de Brinevillers' throat. There followed an agonized gurgle, another great belch and, a moment later, the callous diplomat who had left Roger to die was again being as sick as a poisoned dog.
For minutes on end, with only brief intervals between, violent internal explosions caused the contents of the Ambassador's stomach to spurt up out of his mouth and down his nostrils, while pressure on his bowels caused their muscles to give way. When his stomach had become as empty as a drum his tormented retching still continued and, from breathlessness and agony, he was near fainting,
Roger, meanwhile, had not been idle. With some more lengths of cord he lashed his victim firmly to the commode, so that his head was held down immediately above the china receptacle that held his vomit. The closet now stank to high heaven and, knowing that it would continue to do so until it was opened and aired, Roger fired his parting shot. Turning to the small table on the far side of the commode, he wrote in clear letters on the notepad.
Perfume suited to the character of M. de Brinevillers with the compliments of M. le Colonel Comte de Breuc.
As it was now some twenty-four hours since Roger had escaped, the hunt for him would already be up; so having left his 'card' at the Embassy would not increase his danger of being recaptured. But de Brinevillers' valet would find his master in the morning, and it was most unlikely that the man could refrain from telling his fellow servants such a juicy story; so all the odds were that before nightfall half of Berlin would learn who had inflicted this terrible indignity on the hated French Ambassador, and be laughing their heads off about it.
Without another word to his victim, Roger left him, snuffed the candles and descended the ladder into the garden. Ten minutes later, he was over the wall and walking gaily down a still silent street, as though he were a gallant who had just spent a few hours with his mistress.
For the remainder of the night he again sat on a bench in the deserted Tiergarten. Soon after dawn he left it and walked out into the street. Swaggering into a nearby inn that had just opened, he enjoyed a hearty breakfast. As he paid his score, he asked the whereabouts of the nearest horse dealer. De Brinevillers would not yet have been found; but even so time was now precious, as he could describe the clothes Roger had taken. At the horse-dealer's, he bought with the Ambassador's thalers the best mare available and saddlery for her. By eight o'clock he was riding out of Berlin in the direction of Stettin, which lay to the north. Having laid this false trail for ten mileshe turned west and, by byroads, got on to the main road for Hamburg. Stopping only to snatch four meals at wayside inns and to doze in the parlours of two of them for g couple of hours, he reached Hamburg in the afternoon on the 12th.