The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware by Dennis Wheatley Read Free Book Online Page B

grant me a boon. It is something that beyond all else will inspire me to fight death. Do I succeed in surviving this peril and get safely back to England, will you marry me?’
    The tears streaming down her lovely cheeks, she nodded. ‘Roger, my own. How could I possibly refuse you? I have been the veriest fool to reject you for so long.’
    Ten minutes later he had joined the officer who had been sent for him, and was on his way to the Tuileries.

4
Roger Faces the Emperor
    La Belle Etoile
lay in the Rue de I’Arbre Sec, which was in the oldest part of Paris, to the east of the Louvre. The streets there were narrow, with the wood-framed upper storeys of the houses projecting beyond the gutters. There were no pavements, and the cobbled ways were a seething mass of people, dashing beneath horses’ heads or squeezing themselves against the walls to make way for drays and coaches, which could proceed only at a foot pace and were frequently brought to a halt.
    It took the carriage in which Roger sat with his escort nearly a quarter of an hour to reach the Place du Louvre; but, having crossed it, they were able to drive at a better pace down the broader thoroughfare that ran alongside the Palace and, not long since, renamed the Rue de Rivoli in honour of Napoleon’s victory.
    Beyond the Louvre lay the big garden where, on the terrible 10th August 1791, the first scene of the Terror had been enacted by the massacre of Louis XVI’s Swiss Guard. Turning left into it, the carriage pulled up in front of the Palais de Tuileries. Two minutes later, Roger was mounting the splendid grand staircase, up which he had often so gaily gone to participate in magnificent fêtes and Imperial ceremonies.
    The fact that he had not been asked to surrender his sword and so was not actually under arrest, caused himsome relief; but he was far from taking that as a sign that he had nothing to fear. At the door of the big antechamber on the first floor, his escort, with whom he had exchanged no more than a courteous greeting, handed him over to the Chamberlain-in-Waiting, and left him.
    In the lofty white and gold salon, a number of people, mostly officers, were sitting about or talking in small groups. Roger knew a number of them, but had too much on his mind to wish to enter on idle conversation; so, after nodding to a few acquaintances, he sat down on a
fauteuil
at the far end of the room.
    He had not been there long when Duroc, Marshal of the Emperor’s Palaces and Camps, came into the room to speak to the big, black-bearded General Montbrun who, with Lasalle, St. Croix and Colbert was, after Murat, one of Napoleon’s four finest cavalry leaders.
    The Marshal was one of Roger’s oldest friends. Getting up, he crossed the room toward him. When Duroc had finished talking to the General, he turned, raised his eyebrows and exclaimed with pleasure:
    â€˜How good to see you,
mon cher ami
. I had no idea that you were in Paris.’
    â€˜You surprise me,’ Roger replied. ‘I got back only yesterday. But the Emperor has sent for me, and I felt certain you would be able to inform me of the reason.’
    â€˜No. He has made no mention of you to me.’
    â€˜What sort of mood is he in today?’
    â€˜There has been nothing so far to put him out of temper. But he is, of course, as busy as usual; so it will probably be an hour or two before he sees you.’
    â€˜I suppose he and Berthier are hard at it making plans to put an end to the trouble in Spain?
    â€˜Oh, no. He is not worrying himself on that score. He still regards it as no more than risings here and there by ill-armed rabbles, stiffened by an English army of no great size. It now looks as though a peace with Austriawill soon be signed. Then he’ll be able to withdraw his legions and send an army of a hundred thousand men to clean up the Peninsula. But you must forgive me now, as I have much to do. Unless he sends you off on some