'Why, that France should use the discontented elements in all these countries as her stalking-horse. We should fan the flames of revolt in each until civil war breaks out; then qn the pretext that we intend to 'protect' their inhabitants from oppression we should send troops to their assistance. Once in they would not find it easy to turn us out and we could ensure in them the establishment of new governments favourable to our own designs. They would keep their independence, nominally, but, henceforth, they would actually be protectorates, with rulers dependent on the good will of France. By this means, in a dozen years, we could gain control of the greater part of Europe. It would be necessary to support the discontented minorities financially and to supply them in secret with arms; but we should regard each of them as though they were French armies already established in the heart of the countries we mean to dominate. They would, in fact, be the secret columns of France.'
There was a moment's silence, then the Marquis said: 'What a subtle brain you have, my dear Abbe. You should have been a diplomat instead of a churchman and I wonder that you do not seek office with a view to becoming a minister of the Crown.'
The Abbe de Talleyrand-Perigord's voice came again and it was bitter. 'I thank you, M. le Marquis, but I have no wish to serve a Court that has already treated me so scurvily.'
'To what do you refer?'
'Surely you must have heard of the manner in which I was deprived of my promised Cardinal's Hat. Madame de Brionne obtained the interest of the King of Sweden on my behalf. Gustave III used his influence with the Pope and His Holiness agreed that the vacant Hat should be bestowed upon me. Then the Queen learned of the affair. She instructed the Comte de Mercy to press her brother that he should insist 'twas Austria's turn to receive the dignity; and Pius VI, weakling that he is, gave way to the Emperor. Queens who behave so to their subjects cannot expect their loyal service.'
'You must remember,' said the Marquis coldly, 'that her Majesty is a model wife and mother; and that to maintain a high moral tone at her Court is a thing very near her heart. Your private life, Abbe, is no recommendation to a Cardinal's Hat, and no doubt the Queen quashed it on that account.'
'Nay; my life is no worse than that of many another whom family considerations forced into the Church against their will. 'Twas the Queen's vindictiveness, and this accursed affair of the Diamond Necklace. She is not content to have banished de Rohan to an Abbey in Auvergue, although he was declared innocent by his judges; she pursues all who stood by him with her hate. Madame de Brionne is a Rohan by birth, so even I, as her protege, must suffer for the folly of the King in ever making the matter public. I repeat, I have no further mind to serve a half-witted man and a capricious woman.'
When the Marquis next spoke the listening Roger could tell that he was very angry but striving hard to control his temper, as he said:
'A Cardinal's Hat is no small thing to lose, and I sympathise with your disappointment. But, Monsieur l'Abbe, I wish that you would reconsider your decision. We live in most troubled times and 'tis of great importance that, whatever our personal feelings may be about the Sovereigns, we noblemen should give them our fullest support. Otherwise the whole, regime may be brought into jeopardy.'
'And what if it is?' The Abbe's voice was tinged with a mocking cynicism. 'You, Monsieur le Marquis, are now, I fear, too old to adjust yourself to new conditions. But that does not apply to me. Whatever changes may occur I shall find my level at a place for which my abilities fit me; and it may well be that under new masters I shall find the scope to serve France far more effectively.'
'So be it then,' replied the Marquis in a frigid tone. 'Let us revert to the business that brought you here. You persuaded M. de Calonne to send the Comte de Mirabeau to Berlin, on a special mission to report on how long King Frederick can be expected to live, and how Prussian policy may be affected by his death. You arranged that M. de Mirabeau should send you his despatches for transmission to M. de Calonne, and agreed with me that, for a certain price, you would provide me with copies of those despatches before the Minister has sight of them. Are you prepared to carry out our bargain?'
'Yes; since I gave my word upon it and need the money. But 'tis the last thing I'll do which may benefit the Queen.'
'Have you the despatches with you?'
'No. They are at my house in Passy. I am come from the Palais
Royale and learnt of their arrival only from a servant who came to find me there upon another matter. But I am told that the packet is a bulky one, so someone may have to give several hours to copying its contents to- night—if the copy is to be of any value—since I must lodge it with M. de Calonne not later than midday to-morrow. I have to return to the Palais to sup with His Royal Highness; and, in any case, I have no mind to copy lengthy documents. My coach is below and I came here to suggest that you should send one of your secretaries back with me to Passy, to do the copying.'
'That, I can easily arrange,' agreed the Marquis, and he rang a bell on his desk.
Treading gingerly, Roger stepped out of the closet, closed the door of the press and hurried round into the Marquis's room by its main door.
'Where is d'Heury?' the Marquis asked with a frown. 'He is still at supper, Monseigneur,' Roger replied. 'Shall I fetch him for you!'
'Yes—no! Wait one moment. L'Abbe de Perigord requires some copying to be done at his house in Passy. 'Tis thought it may take several hours and I am anxious to receive the copy as soon as possible. 'Twould halve the time if you and d'Heury both go, and divide the work between you. Tell d'Heury my wishes when you get downstairs.'
'Your servant, Monseigneur,' Roger laid the letters he was still carrying on the Marquis's desk as the two noblemen took leave of one another; then, adjusting his pace to that of the lame Abbe, he followed him from the room.
Having collected d'Heury they entered the Abbe de Perigord's coach and set out for Passy. It was now about a quarter to ten and, although near the longest day in the year, a bluish dusk obscured the streets except where corner lanterns were already lit. The two Abbes were occupying the rear seat of the coach with Roger seated opposite them, his back to the horses. He knew that they had a drive of between two and three miles before them and while the other two talked in low voices he settled down to think about the long conversation he had just overheard.
It was more than a year since he had sent intelligence of M. de la Perouse's project of colonising New Zealand to Mr. Gilbert Maxwell, and since doing so he had not encountered anything that he felt might be likely to interest that mysterious gentleman. Then, for an exciting few moments to-night, he had thought that chance was about to reveal to him the inner secrets of France's policy towards Britain. Yet, on consideration, he realised that he had actually learnt nothing. He had already gathered that the Marquis was a rabid imperialist, but he held no official position and represented only the opinion of a small clique of nobles at Court; while the Abbe de Perigord was even further removed from being a Government spokesman, and the full potentialities of his extraordinary scheme for developing 'secret columns' devoted to France's interest in other countries had not, as yet, impinged on Roger's mind.
Whatever the Queen's motive for preventing the Abbe1 from receiving his Cardinal's Hat, Roger could not help feeling that he was no fit candidate for it. Rumour had it that he had recently been caught out using Government funds for improper purposes and that only his great influence with many highly placed ladies had saved him from being consigned to the Bastille. And Roger now knew for certain that he was flagrantly betraying M. de Calonne's confidence by selling copies of secret documents which were intended for the Minister's private eye. Yet, all the same, Roger could not help feeling attracted to the lame Abbe; he was so kind, so gay, so witty, and altogether such a fascinating personality.
At a fast trot the horses drew the well-sprung coach along the north bank of the Seine and right round the great bend of the river to the west of the city, until the streets gave place to tree-lined avenues and big houses set in private gardens. Across the river the lights of the Invalides and the Ecole Militaire could be seen, then, as they came opposite the Isle of Swans, they turned west entering the semi-open country that lay about the Uttle village of Passy.
They were within a few moments of their destination and passing a dark belt of trees when they heard a shout, the horses reared and the coach was brought to a sudden halt.
He had scarcely spoken when masked faces appeared at both windows of the coach, the doors were
