During his long ride he had had ample time to think out what would be best for him to do when he got there. It was certain that von Haugwitz would have been informed of his escape and do his utmost to have him recaptured. The Minister's writ ran only in Prussia, but he could request the authorities in neighboring States to have Roger looked for and, if found, apply for his extradition; so to get out of north Germany as speedily as possible was imperative.
Even in such a large port, to find a smuggler to put him across the North Sea might take several days, so he had decided to risk a big gamble. There was little Bourrienne did not know about the illicit trade carried on with England, and he had frankly told Roger that he was making a fortune by winking his eye at it. Roger had, therefore, made up his mind to throw himself on the mercy of his old friend.
On arriving at the Palace, he did not dare send up his own name. However, apart from the private apartments, such places were open to anyone who cared to walk into them. So, having handed over his horse, he walked boldly upstairs to the ante-room beyond which Bourrienne's office was situated. As Bourrienne was not a military commander, there was no sentry on the door, but several people were standing about there. Mingling with them, Roger waited his chance. Then, as a portly German came out, he thrust aside a footman, stepped through the door and slammed it behind him.
Bourrienne was seated at a big desk near the window. Beside him a secretary was standing taking dictation. As Roger entered, they both looked across at him. Bourrienne's mouth dropped open in amazement. Before he could speak, Roger put his finger to his lips, enjoining silence. With a little nod of understanding, Bourrienne told the secretary to leave the room. Immediately the door had closed behind him, Roger's old friend exclaimed:
Mon Dieu! Can it really be you? I thought you dead these three months gone.
Roger shook his head. 'No Davout succeeded in getting my sentence reduced to ten years' imprisonment. Did he not tell you?'
'No. He said not a word of it. But both of us are fully occupied by our duties, so we see very little of each other. Mon vieux, I am delighted. Yes, delighted.'
With a feeble smile, Roger said, 'Alas, I am far from out of the wood yet. A student riot when I was being transferred from one prison to another enabled me to escape. But I stole the clothes I wear, so could be identified by them if my enemy, von Haugwitz, asks the assistance of the Hanoverian police.'
Bourrienne laughed. 'My dear fellow, perhaps in prison you did not learn of it, but Hanover is now part of France. I am no longer Ambassador here, but Civil Administrator. No-one dare touch you, and whenever you wish I can send you back to Paris.'
Roger had not realised that this would be one of the effects of the changed state of Hanover; and, while he had been confident that his old friend would not give him up, he had felt that for him, as an Ambassador, to agree to compromise himself by getting a wanted criminal out of north Germany was quite another matter. After a moment, he said:
'Of course, I should have known that. But 'tis not to France though that I wish to go. You have yourself experienced the Emperor's ingratitude to those who have served him. In my case he could not be bothered to save me from a firing squad, and in any event I am sickened unto death of his eternal wars; so I do not mean to return to him. As you know, I was born in Strasbourg; but my mother was English and I have numerous English relations, When I have been over there secretly on the Emperor's business, little suspecting my perfidy, they have treated me most kindly. If I can possibly get there I have decided to forswear war for the future and make England my home.In making that statement he knew that he was maligning Napoleon but it was essential for him to win Bourrienne's sympathy.
His friend considered for a moment, then smiled. 'To get you across should not be difficult. I have many contacts with merchant Captains who keep me supplied with coffee and other luxuries. I am certain that, in the course of a few days, I can arrange matters. But, my poor friend, you look sadly worn.'
Fingering the stubble on his chin, Roger replied, 'I am indeed. I rode desperate hard from Berlin and am in great need of sleep. If you can, as you think, get me to England, I'll be for ever grateful, but at the moment I'd bless you for a bed.'
One side of the room was lined with book-shelves. Bourrienne pressed a secret spring and a section of them swung forward, revealing a narrow passage. Beckoning to Roger, he led the way along it, up a flight of stairs to his private apartments. Showing Roger into a bedroom, he said:
'No one will disturb you here. Later I will call you in time to shave and wash before we sup together. I have a dinner engagement that I cannot break; but I shall be back by nine o'clock.'
With a nod of thanks, Roger began to pull his clothes off. In no time he had tumbled into bed and was sound asleep. Five hours later he was still sleeping when Bourrienne's valet woke him. The man had already brushed his clothes and lit a fire in the room. In front of it Roger was soon lathering himself in a hip bath. Greatly refreshed, and infinitely relieved to know that he had nothing more to fear, he joined Bourrienne in a room along the corridor where, before setting out for Berlin, he had dined with him.
Over the meal Roger gave an account of his trial, the miserable months he had spent in prison, his escape and how he had avenged himself on de Brinevillers. At the thought of the haughty, ci-devant Marquis in the position in which Roger had left him, Bourrienne laughed uproariously; then he said:
'And all this while I believed you dead. No doubt about that crossed my mind, because I saw an account of your execution in a Berlin news sheet. At least, one which appeared on the day it should have taken place. The affair had created such a stir that three whole columns were devoted to it, and the article ended with the gleeful statement that the fiendish French murderer, Breuc, had met a death too good for him in front of a firing squad that morning.'
Roger nodded. 'The article must have been written the previous day and printed during my night in the condemned cell. But tell me, did you receive the two letters I sent you, and forward them to England?'
"Yes; and by a safe hand. The captain who took them has since returned and reported to me having dispatched them in Harwich. They reached me on the same morning as the article, so I enclosed it in the letter for the Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel'
Bourrienne then gave Roger an interesting piece of news. Toward the end of August, Marshal Jean Baptiste Bernadotte had been invited by the Swedish Diet to become their Crown Prince.
Roger had at one time been sent by Mr. Pitt on a mission to Sweden, so he knew the history of its royal dynasty. The Vasas had, at one time, ruled over a great part of the Baltic lands, including Finland in the north and German Pomerania to the east. The able and warlike King, Gustavus III, had fought Catherine the Great of Russia and, being fanatically opposed to the French Revolution, had enthusiastically joined the First Coalition, in the hope of crushing this new People's State. But, in March '92, he had been assassinated by masked intruders at a ball, and that had brought to an end Sweden's era as a great power.
He had been succeeded by young Gustavus Adolphus IV, another fanatical champion of legitimacy, but having an unbalanced mind. After launching a disastrous assault on Bernadotte, who was then commanding in northern Germany, he had, against the advice of his generals and nobility, sent his army against that of Russia in Finland, whilst himself remaining in Stockholm and directing it in such a crazy fashion that it had been defeated piecemeal. By March 1809, his people had become so angered that they had supported his leading men in deposing him.