The Prisoner in the Mask Page 32

  The yacht belonged to Senator Van Ryn, but his son, Channock, was using it to make a tour of the major cities of South America. In all of them the Chesapeake Corporation had branches and the Board had decided that, while carrying out an inspection of them, Channock could also make the acquaintance of many of the leading financiers of Latin America, which should lead to a valuable extension of business.

  For a week after leaving Devil’s Island the yacht ploughed her way steadily south-east until she reached Bahia. By then de Quesnoy’s fever had abated, but he was still too weak to accompany Van Ryn ashore during the eight days that the latter spent transacting business and meeting people socially in the Brazilian city. However, his mind was clear again; so he was able to draft cables, which Harry Plimsol sent off for him, to Angela, to his father and to de Vendôme care of the Condessa de Cordoba y Coralles, conveying to them all, without mentioning his name, that he had escaped and was enjoying the hospitality of an American friend in a yacht in South American waters.

  On January 27th the yacht left Bahia, and three days later dropped anchor in the almost unbelievably beautiful harbour of Rio de Janeiro.

  De Quesnoy’s week of fever while crossing the equator had taken a lot out of him and, coming on top of the physical and mental strain he had already endured, had left him only a shadow of the man he had been before Christmas. In consequence, when they had been for about ten days in the Brazilian capital and he spoke of inquiring about sailings for France, Van Ryn would not hear of it. He pointed out that the Count’s self-imposed mission must prove an exceedingly dangerous one, and that he would be mad to enter the lion’s den before he was again one hundred per cent fit.

  De Quesnoy admitted the sound sense of this and agreed to remain as Van Ryn’s guest for at least another month. He still had to go carefully, but during the latter part of their time in Rio he was able to see the sights of the city and to accompany the banker to some very pleasant social gatherings.

  With regret, on February 21st, they weighed anchor. Four days’ sailing brought them to Montevideo, where they spent only six days, then they crossed the great estuary of the River Plate, arriving at Buenos Aires on March 4th.

  It was now seven weeks since the Count’s escape. He was well on the way to regaining his normal weight and mental alertness but his nights were still subject to terrible nightmares, in which he was again masked, chained and almost suffocated by heat; and these left him haggard and exhausted in the mornings. In Rio he had already collected a considerable sum of money that in his cable to his father he had asked should be wired to Van Ryn’s branch there; so there was nothing to prevent him from booking a passage in a false name on a ship that was shortly due to leave Buenos Aires for a French port. But it was symptomatic of his condition that he hesitated to do so; because he could not make up his mind whether he was not really sufficiently recovered again to take his life in his hands, or if the lazy and enjoyable existence he was leading had caused him to become subconsciously a malingerer.

  Van Ryn made his mind up for him. They had taken a great liking to one another and eight weeks of constant companionship had resulted in a greater degree of intimacy between them than would have been the case after as many years of normal friendship had they lived for all that time in the same city. Unusual as it was in those days, they had even reached the point of calling one another by their Christian names. When the Count again tentatively raised the question of going back to France, the American said to him:

  ‘Well, Armand, it’s not for me to tell you how best to handle your affairs; but if it were me I’d be mighty cautious how I set about pitting myself against the all-powerful ministers of a great country when they already had my name chalked up to lose my head under the guillotine. To start with I’d grow a beard.’

  De Quesnoy had long since shaven off the dark, wiry stubble that he had left round his mouth and on the ball of his chin for his impersonation of a Russian stoker, and he replied, ‘To grow a proper beard would take months.’

  ‘What does that matter? You’re not all that old you need fear becoming tied to a wheel-chair before you can carry out your vow.’

  ‘No, Channock. But I’d like to get it off my chest; so that I can set about reshaping my life on new lines.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Oh, soldiering somewhere. It is the only trade I know; and although I don’t have to work for my living I have a rooted objection to remaining idle.’

  ‘Then you’re sitting on the doorstep of the best market for your talents right now. The smaller Latin American Republics are always at one another’s throats. There must be several of them who’d jump at the chance to get hold of a man who has been a chief-instructor at St. Cyr.’

  The Count nodded. ‘That is just what I had thought of as a possibility later. But I couldn’t sign on with any of them with a quiet mind until I have been back to France. You are right, though, that when I do go back I shall be risking my head and stand a very good chance of having it chopped off if I fail to keep from the police the secret of my real identity. The thing that worries me is the state of my nerves. I always used to sleep like a top, but now I quite frequently wake screaming. I am sure that I talk in my sleep, and there are times when alcohol has a much more rapid effect on me than it should have; so I am just a little scared that I might give myself away.’

  ‘Then you’d be plumb crazy to go yet,’ declared the American firmly.

  ‘But, my dear Channock, I cannot sponge on you indefinitely.’

  ‘Nonsense, Armand, I like having you around. If you are all that set on evening up the score you can entertain me sometime when I come to Europe in one of your old man’s castles. But listen now. Much your best plan is to give plenty of time for the Vendôme business to die down. Come summer, people will have forgotten about it and about you. Then you’ll be able to move around Paris without anyone giving you a second glance; especially if you’ve grown a beard. I’m keen on the beard. I’d like you to grow a real big one like the captain of that cruiser had.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right; but, although the climate here is pleasant summer still seems a long way off.’

  ‘You’ll find the time go quick enough with all the new places and people we’ll be seeing. I’ve told you my itinerary. Round the Horn to Valparaiso a fortnight there; on to the port of Arica and up country for a week in La Paz. Next a fortnight in Lima, then to Guayaquil and another trip inland for a week in Quito. Lastly, a third rail jaunt, from Buenaventura up to Bogota; then straight sailing for San Francisco and by the transcontinental home. I figure to be back in New York by early July; so you could be in Paris by the end of that month. By that time your nerves will be restored to normal and you’ll have a beard as long as an early Christian Father’s. Besides, think what a chance this is for you to fix up about your future soldiering. We’ll be staying in the capitals of Chile, Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador and Colombia, and I’ve got chits to the big shots in all of these places. If I can’t get you an offer from one of them to return in a year’s time as an Inspector General or a Chief of Staff I’ll eat my hat.’

  De Quesnoy laughed. ‘It seems to have been my lucky day in more ways than one when curiosity led you to put in for a look at Devil’s Island. Anyhow, there is nothing I would like more than to accompany you on this fascinating trip; so I’ll salve my conscience with the thought that it may lead to a new career, and that I’ll be a more dangerous enemy to the men I’ve sworn to destroy when I take up the cudgels against them later.’

  Thus the matter was settled. For three weeks the yacht lay in Buenos Aires, while they enjoyed the lavish hospitality of many rich Argentinians and Van Ryn entered into a number of arrangements advantageous to his firm. On March 25th they sailed, and a few days later for the first time met bad weather; but the yacht was well found and Captain Oakie a good seaman; so after the inside of a week of discomfort she was safely through the Straits of Magellan, and on April 5th reached Valparaiso.

  There, however, a c
able awaited Van Ryn which entirely altered their plans. His father sent him the news that his uncle had died in Paris, and asked him to return to New York as soon as possible. Their stay in Valparaiso was accordingly curtailed to two days, and the rest of the South American itinerary scrapped. They sailed again direct for Panama, arriving on April 16th, and there they left the yacht to circumnavigate again the Southern continent on her return journey to her home port.

  Another ten years were to elapse before the Panama canal could be opened, but while crossing the isthmus by train they saw much of the vast work which had already been accomplished at the cost of thousands of lives and the saving of tens of thousands of French families. At Colon, on the Atlantic side, Van Ryn found that as a next step the quickest way for him to get back to New York would be for him to take a ship that was sailing the following day for Havana. From Havana, too, there would be frequent sailings for France and de Quesnoy, now fully recovered, spoke of booking a passage; but his friend again dissuaded him from doing so.

  ‘I know you’ve been getting more and more boiled up for some time now to have the pants off those swine in Paris,’ he said with his cheerful grin, ‘but all the same I’d keep the lid on for another month or two if I were you. It’s only six weeks since you started to grow that beard, and although it’s good and thick it’ll have more of a permanent look when it’s long enough to trim. And there’s another thing. I can’t be sure yet, but I’ve a hunch that the reason my old man sent for me post haste like this is because he wants me to take over at our Paris office. If so, we’d be able to go over together, and I could provide initial cover for you by letting all and sundry believe you to be a member of my staff.’

  As previous to the arrival of the cable the Count had agreed to postpone his return until July and it was as yet only the beginning of May, this new possibility of valuable aid in establishing a false identity at once decided him to remain with Van Ryn. So together they took a ship from Havana to New Orleans and completed their journey by rail, arriving in New York on April 26th.

  Channock had a fine apartment of his own in the big old brownstone family mansion on upper Fifth Avenue; but whenever he could during the summer months he slept out at the Van Ryn home on Long Island, and it was there that de Quesnoy spent most of the fortnight that followed.

  The Senator and his white-haired wife made him very welcome and he could not have been a guest in more delightful surroundings. The Van Ryns’ forebears had settled with other Dutch families in New Amsterdam before the city’s name had been changed to New York, and as they had prospered from the beginning the houses of the present generation contained old furniture, pictures, silver, china and other objets d’art which could have rivalled many private collections in Europe.

  While Channock attended business conferences, the Count amused himself seeing the sights of the metropolis and mingling with the bustling crowds on Broadway, or riding in the woods of the eight-hundred-acre Long Island estate with its lovely views of Oyster Bay. In the evenings there were always jolly parties with one neighbour or another, and at week-ends Channock, who had a passion for sailing and kept a forty-foot yacht in the bay, initiated him into the mysteries of making the best of wind and tide.

  The young banker’s guess that his father wanted him to take over the post left vacant by his uncle’s death proved correct. It was by the Paris office that all the major European transactions of the Corporation were handled, and the Board considered it important that a member of the family should live there. As the eldest of the younger generation Channock had been selected and, loath as he was to be parted from his wide circle of friends, he felt that he could not refuse. So passages were booked in the Campania and on May 20th Channock, de Quesnoy and Harry Plimsol arrived—via Liverpool, London, Dover and Calais—in Paris.

  The Count travelled as Mr. Jules Dupont, an American of Belgian extraction, whose function it was to protect his rich master from undesirables, see to his comforts, arrange his pleasures and, more particularly, to acquire for him a small racing stable. The occupation of viewing bloodstock with an eye to its possible purchase was a cover which would serve indefinitely; and, owing to de Quesnoy’s knowledge of horseflesh, the chances were high that when he did complete a deal he would get Van Ryn good value for his money.

  For their first two nights in Paris they put up at the Scribe, then, as Channock’s uncle had been a widower and his spacious apartment in the Avenue Victor Hugo seemed suitable, they took it over and moved in there.

  As it was before the days when passports were required for entry into France, de Quesnoy had met with no difficulty about landing at Calais, and as soon as they were settled in permanent quarters he lost no time in making arrangements to contact his old associates. In the past five months he had written several letters to Angela, but had received no replies, and had expected none, because he had been unable in advance to give her any address at which a letter from her could have reached him before he had left it. He was therefore all the more anxious to see her.

  The memory of the passionate avowals she had made to him in their last few moments together had been his only solace during his nightmare journey, and he had many times since recalled them with profound joy. To hear her repeat them had actually been a more potent factor underlying his impatience to return to France than his wish to be revenged on General André; although, having committed himself to achieve the latter’s ruin, he knew that until he had done so he must not give way to the temptation to bring matters between Angela and himself to a head.

  His three-months-old beard, now slightly curly and trimmed square, together with his eyebrows, from which he had shaved that outer upturned half-inch that normally gave him a likeness to the conventional idea of Prince Lucifer, had altered his appearance sufficiently for acquaintances not to know him if he passed them in the street; but he could hardly alter his height, walk or figure permanently, and his eyes and nose were such distinctive features that he felt that the risk of recognition was still considerable if he came face to face with anyone who had seen him frequently in the past. In consequence, he decided that instead of going to the Syveton mansion it would be safer first to get Syveton to come to see him.

  To give the meeting the appearance of normal social intercourse, he got Van Ryn to invite Syveton and, on the same day, General Laveriac to lunch, giving as an excuse to both that, although a stranger to them, he wanted to convey messages to them from a friend in the United States. Both, piqued by curiosity, accepted; and when they arrived, on the only other guest being introduced to them as Monsieur Dupont, they thought him somehow familiar. A moment later they exclaimed almost simultaneously:

  ‘De Quesnoy! Monsieur le Comte! What a delightful surprise! How good to see you again!’

  The returned exile’s pleasure in this reunion was largely marred a few minutes later by his learning that Angela was not in Paris, or expected back for some time. She had gone to England in May and intended to stay with her parents at their house in Great Cumberland Place until the end of the London season. Consoling himself as best he could for his disappointment with the thought that there would now be nothing to distract him from his self-imposed mission, he launched into an account of his escape, and throughout luncheon kept the Deputy and the General enthralled by it. After the meal Van Ryn, having played his part as genial host, excused himself and left the three Frenchmen together.

  When they were settled in the library with liqueur brandies and cigars de Quesnoy said: ‘Messieurs; it is just on six months since I took de Vendôme’s place in the Cherche-Midi. Much must have happened since then. What are the present prospects of bringing about a restoration?’

  It was Syveton who answered. ‘Alas, none. De Vendôme, as you must have heard, got away safely to Spain. After you had escaped and he was able to come out of hiding a deputation from our Committee was then sent to ascertain his views about the future. He believes the disaster which put a premature end to our conspiracy to have been a direct warni
ng from Heaven, and he refuses absolutely to continue to allow himself to be regarded as a claimant to the Throne. In fact, he declares that even were it offered to him by the elected representatives of the French people, he would decline it.’

  The little, square-shouldered Gascon General took up the tale. ‘So that throws us back on the Duke d’Orleans, who has unquestionably been the legitimate heir since the death of the Comte de Paris in ’94. But we went into all that years ago, and the son has proved no more willing than his father was to make a serious bid for his great inheritance. Since de Vendôme’s defection, there has been some talk among us of inviting the Duke de Guise to accept our allegiance, but there are certain objections to that which cannot easily be got over; so I doubt if anything will come of it. In short, my dear Count, it is many years since we Royalists had so little to pin our hopes upon.’

  De Quesnoy nodded. ‘I am not surprised to hear what you tell me about de Vendôme; and even if it were possible to settle, in the fairly near future, on some other Prince of the Blood as being suitable it would take years to build him up as a popular claimant. Meanwhile, what of our poor country?’

  ‘Things go from bad to worse,’ Syveton gave an unhappy shrug. ‘Except that Combes and his friends have not yet openly adopted torture and the stake, we now have a reversal of the Spanish Inquisition here. To be a Catholic is to invite certain persecution. Every city swarms with Government spies and informers. For anyone employed by the State to have his children baptised is quite enough for him to be hounded from his post and deprived of his pension.’

  ‘Abominable!’ murmured the Count, as Laveriac again contributed his piece.

  ‘And the Army, mon ami! You would hardly credit the lengths to which that swine André has gone. He started, you will remember, by getting rid of de Castelnau, the best of all our younger Generals, from the War Office. Then he ousted Generals Delanne and Jamont from their seats on the Conseil Supérieur de la Guerre—the sole crime of all three being that they are practising Catholics. It was bad enough that he should meddle with the High Command, but he has since gone much further. He has suppressed all the Promotion Committees, and now holds the fate of every officer in the Army in his own hands.’