Part 46 (1/2)
”I am in d.a.m.nable pain; I must be brief. I was waylaid near Bristol by Schmidt and De Courval, and when I would not stop, was shot by De Courval. They stole the despatch, and made me swear on threat of death that I had been attacked by men I did not know.”
Fauchet was silent for a while, and then said: ”That is a singular story--and that you kept the promise, still more singular.”
”I did keep it. I had good reason to keep it.” He realized, as he told the tale, how improbable it sounded, how entirely Fauchet disbelieved him. If he had not been dulled by opiates and racked past power of critical thought, he was far too able a man to have put forth so childish a tale. He knew at once that he was not believed.
”You do not believe me, Citizen.”
”I do not. Why did you not tell me the truth at first?”
”It was not the threat to kill me which stopped me. I was of the tribunal at Avignon which condemned the _ci-devant_ vicomte, the young man's father. To have had it known here would have been a serious thing to our party and for me ruin. I was ill, feeble, in their hands, and I promised Schmidt that I would put it all on some unknown person.”
Fauchet listened. He entirely distrusted him. ”Is that all? Do you expect any reasonable man to believe such a story?”
”Yes, I do. If I had told you at the time, you would have used my statement at once and I should have suffered. Now that both these cursed villains are gone, I can speak.”
”Indeed,” said Fauchet, very desirous of a look at the face secure from observation within the curtained bed, ”but why do you speak now! It is late. Why speak at all?”
”For revenge, Monsieur. I am in h.e.l.l.”
Fauchet hesitated. ”That is a good reason; but there is more in this matter than you are willing to tell.”
”That is my business. I have told you enough to satisfy my purpose and yours.”
”Rather late for mine. But let us understand each other. This man, then, this De Courval, had a double motive--to avenge his father's death and to serve his masters, the Federalists. That is your opinion?”
”Yes, his desire for revenge made him an easy tool. I cannot talk any more. What shall you do about it?”
”I must think. I do not know. You are either a great fool or a coward or both. I only half trust you.”
”Ah, were I well, Monsieur, no man should talk to me as you are doing.”
”Luckily for me you are not well; but will you swear to this, to a written statement?”
”I will.” Whether it was to be a truthful statement or not concerned the minister but little if he could make use of it. Upon this, the consul-general and a secretary, Le Blanc, being called in, to their amazement Carteaux dictated a plain statement and signed it with his left hand, the two officials acting as witnesses.
The minister read it aloud:
OELLER'S HOTEL, July 4, 1795.
I, George Carteaux, being _in extremis_, declare that on the 29th of November, about 5 P.M., near Bristol, I was set upon and shot and a despatch taken from me by one Schmidt and a Frenchman by name De Courval. No valuables were taken. By whom they were set on or paid I do not know.
GEORGE CARTEAUX.
_Witnesses_:
LOUIS LE BLANC, JEAN DE LA FOReT.
The two members of the legation silently followed the minister out of the room.
”That is a belated story,” said De la Foret. ”Do you credit it?”
”It is not all, you may be sure; a rather lean tale,” replied Le Blanc, whose career in the police of Paris had taught him to distrust men. ”He lied both times, but this time it is a serviceable lie.”