trouble picking up his trail here.'
'Why were you after him?'
'I have a score to settle with him, a heavy score and one I mean to make him pay in full. There! What did I tell you. Here they come, now.'
Francis Cranmere had re-entered the hall of wax figures, but this time firmly in the grip of four stout police officers. Even with his wrists bound, he was still fighting like a demon and the men were having to half-carry him. He was white-faced and foaming with rage, his eyes glaring murderously at the crowd which had gathered round the entrance as the policemen pushed their way inside.
'Got him, chief,' said one.
'Nice work. Take him to Vincennes, and keep a close watch on him, eh?'
'I'd advise you to release me,' Francis said furiously. 'You'll regret this.'
Nicolas Mallerousse, alias Black Fish, strolled over to him and bent to thrust his face close into his.
'You think so, eh? It occurs to me, my friend, that by the time I've finished with you, you are going to regret that you were born. Take him away.'
One of the men spoke. 'We found this on him. It is full of money.' He held out the wallet.
To judge by the hunger on his face as he looked at it, it seemed to Marianne that the money mattered even more to Francis than his freedom and that if he were deprived of it he would, in the event of his escaping, become deadly dangerous. Remembering the relationship which Arcadius had uncovered between Lord Cranmere and Fouche and the desperate lengths to which Francis had gone to obtain the money, perhaps the wisest course would be to let him keep his ill-gotten gains. But then again, surely the luck which had brought Black Fish to them at the very moment when she was handing over the ransom was a sign of fate? The formidable Breton was not likely to permit Francis to escape what was clearly going to be an unenviable fate. Locked up inside the medieval towers of Vincennes, he would cease to be a danger to her. Besides, the temptation to indulge her revenge now that it was offered was too strong. With a smile, she held out her hand towards the wallet.
'That money is mine,' she said quietly. This man took it from us at gunpoint. No doubt you will find the weapon on him. May I have it?'
'I saw the prisoner take the wallet from this gentleman,' Black Fish corroborated, indicating Arcadius. 'Since it is merely money, there is no reason why it should not be returned to you. I thought at first that it was something a deal more dangerous and, to be honest with you, little one, it was lucky for you that we had met before. It might have gone hard with you. Search him, you men.'
While the policemen searched the angrily protesting Francis and quickly found the gun that he was carrying, Marianne asked: 'Why might it have gone hard with me?'
'Because before I recognized you, I took you for a foreign spy.'
'She?' Francis burst out furiously. 'You know well enough what she is! A trull! A spy of Bonaparte's and his mistress besides!'
'And what of you?' Marianne said caustically. 'What should I call you, besides a spy? Blackmailer? And —'
'You'll suffer for this one day, you little whore! I should have known that you would spring a trap on me. It was your doing, was it not?'
'How could I? Who arranged this meeting, you or I?'
'I, to be sure. But you set these bloodhounds on, in spite of my warnings.'
'It is not true!' Marianne cried hotly. 'I did not know, how could I have known that they were following you?'
'Enough of these lies,' Francis said, raising his bound hands as if he would have struck the girl before him. 'You have won this time, Marianne, but don't rejoice too soon. I shall not stay in prison for ever – and then look to yourself!'
'Enough!' Black Fish let out a sudden roar, his eyes bulging at this revelation of Marianne's relations with the Emperor. Take him away, I said. Gag him if he won't be quiet. Don't you upset yourself, my pretty. I know enough about him to put a rope around his neck, and what the dungeons of Vincennes once hold they do not lightly give up.'
'In six months I'll be even with you!' Francis shrieked before one of the men stuffed a dirty chequered handkerchief in his mouth and stifled his threats.
Yet even gagged and bound, Marianne watched him as they dragged him away with a kind of horror. She knew the power of evil that inhabited the man and the deadly, consuming hatred that he felt for her, a hatred which would surely grow now that he believed her guilty of betraying him. But she had known, ever since their wedding night, that there was a fight to the death between them which would not end while both of them remained alive.
Divining his friend's thoughts, Jolival slipped his arm through hers and gripped it firmly, as though to reassure her that she was not alone. But when he spoke it was to Black Fish, who was standing with hands on hips watching his men remove the prisoner.
'Setting aside the fact that he is English, what has he done? And why have you trailed him from England?'
'He is a dangerous man, one of the Red Herring's spies.'
'The Red Herring?' Marianne echoed in astonishment.
'Lord Yarmouth, if you prefer, the present chief of the Home Office in Perceval's cabinet. His wife, the beautiful Maria Fagiani, still lives in Paris, amusing herself very pleasantly with a little court of whom our fine game-bird is one. But I've another reason apart from his spying for swearing to bring this Cranmere to book.'
'What's that?'
'His interest in the French prisoners in the hulks at Portsmouth. It seems the gentleman's fond of hunting and he's got himself a pack of hounds to specialize in tracking down escaped prisoners. I've seen some of those poor devils after Cranmere's beasts have been at them – or what was left of them.'
Black Fish's voice was hoarse with rage, his teeth clenched and his hands opened and closed convulsively. Marianne closed her eyes to shut out the nightmare vision he had conjured up. What kind of creature was this man to whom she was bound? What depths of evil and sadistic cruelty lay behind that handsome face and princely bearing? She had a brief recollection of the bargain she had struck with the Cardinal San Lorenzo and for the first time her thoughts went out to her godfather with gratitude. Anything rather than remain tied to this monster!
'Why didn't you kill him, with your bare hands?' she asked softly.
'Because I am first and foremost the Emperor's servant. Because I want him to stand trial and would not cheat the guillotine of his head. But if his judges do not send him to his death, then I swear that I will kill him, if I die in the attempt. Enough. They are letting in the public again and we must give way to the waxworks.'
Two or three people were already poking their heads curiously into the hall now that the policemen seemed to have gone. They were obviously far more interested in any traces of the drama which had taken place there than in the waxworks.
'All good things must come to an end,' Jolival said with a sigh. 'If you have no objection, I should be glad to leave this place – so many wax dummies, you know…'
'No, no, there is no need for you to remain. Only tell me where I may find you. I have to stay because I did not find the papers I was expecting on the Englishman. Someone else may yet come, and I must wait for that someone.'
'Someone who is to come here?'
'So I imagine. You be off now, my pretty. What happens now is no concern of yours. And don't you worry about his threats. He will be in no case to carry them out.'
Marianne would have liked to ask many more questions. Ever since Black Fish had appeared on the scene the mystery seemed to have deepened, like the gloom in Monsieur Curtius's dimly-lit chamber, but she knew that it was not for her to meddle in state secrets, or in police matters. If what had taken place were to rid her of Francis that would be enough. She had complete trust in Black Fish. There was something indestructible about him, neither men nor the elements could touch him. Francis had met his match in him.
Arcadius was hastily scribbling their address on a leaf torn from his notebook when, without warning, one of the wax footmen at the imperial table exploded in a gargantuan sneeze which left no doubt of the human identity concealed beneath the wax disguise. The unfortunate individual continued to sneeze uncontrollably, his
