The Old Vengeful

'No, none of those.' The little man shook his head. 'This time

— another spy, Mr Aske. Even perhaps a super-spy, since you British never caught him—never even suspected him, so far as I am aware . . . though I know nothing of his subsequent history as yet.'

Whatever happened to Father's book on the twelve Vengefuls, there was a book here—or at least a learned article in the Annales historiques de l'Empire in the making, thought Elizabeth. It was surprising that Belperron was prepared to let so much slip.

'How was he not a traitor—or a renegade, Professor?' she dummy3

asked.

'Because he was not an Englishman at all, Mademoiselle,'

said Belperron simply. 'He was an American—an Irish American.'

'But also a French spy—a spy for France?'

'Ah . . . now there again we are on those debatable frontiers!

Where should a good American—and an Irishman ... an Irishman in any age . . . where should such a man be when England is at war? And in those days, after the Irish Rebellion of 1798, in which my country assisted so inadequately and disastrously?'

'In Portsmouth, apparently,' said Paul dryly. 'And we let him import-export from there, did we?'

Belperron shook his head. 'In England I am not sure that he was James Burns— American . . . not from the way he continued to move at will between the two countries after the Americans had declared war on you. What he did in England, except that he traded in naval stores . . . American timber and cordage, and the like . . . that I do not know. But here in France it was in military equipment —in British greatcoats and boots for the French Army—'

'In what?' Paul's voice cracked.

'British greatcoats and boots—the Grande Armee wore them both into Russia . . . imported through Hamburg, of course.'

The Professor smiled his little coldly-amused smile again.

'You must understand how the Industrial Revolution and the dummy3

French Revolution came to terms with each other, Dr Mitchell, and how honest neutrals were caught between them

—it was not a business as conducted in later war. Because in those pragmatic days an honest trader could also obtain licences to break the rules, to the advantage of all parties.'

'And James Burns was good at getting licences?'

'That is what I think, Dr Mitchell. As yet I am not sure.'

'But you're sure he was a spy?'

'James Burns was a client of Joseph Fouche's Ministry in 1805, and again in 1808—and a close colleague of Colonel Suchet in 1812—that I know, Mr Aske.' Professor Belperron brought his hands together. 'James Burns had a dream . . . of confusion to Albion . . . that is what I believe.'

'With the Portsmouth Plan?'

'With his Portsmouth Plan. Which was very different from those of de la Rousseliere and Hamilton—very different, and much more outrageous . . . but perhaps also much more dangerous to England.' The little man switched from Aske to Paul. 'And which Suchet, of all men, would have recognised, where Fouche would have discounted it.' He shrugged.

'Though, to be fair, the time was not ripe in Fouche's day, as it was in Suchet's.'

This time they both waited, now that he was altogether wrapped in his own cleverness.

'Some of this I know . . . and some of it I am guessing, on the basis of what I was told last night, which has made me put dummy3

facts together with guesses ... to make an instant theory, you understand? No more than that.'

They nodded, and Elizabeth nodded too, to encourage him.

'Good . . . Now it may be that your escaped prisoners somehow knew of de la Rousseliere's plans, Mr Aske—Dr Mitchell. I do not know how . . . but it does not matter.

Because, if his plans were good in 1779, they were bad in 1812

—they were plans which would not have attracted Colonel Suchet, I suspect. And also because he would have had in mind the invasion plans of 1804-5—the massing of a great army on the Channel coast to conquer England, not merely to raid it, or capture a foothold.'

Aske snuffled. 'He would probably have had the Royal Navy in mind also, Professor. And the battle of Trafalgar.'

'Very correct, Mr Aske. Always the Royal Navy . . . But by then the Royal Navy without Nelson. And the Royal Navy was stretched all the way to the war with America, with the best part of the British Army fighting in Spain, and the rest of it in Canada, fighting the Americans . . . And 1813 would not have been 1805 in Europe either, Mr Aske: Suchet was planning for an invasion in which the Emperor no longer had to worry about the armies of Austria and Prussia and Russia, as he had had to do in 1805. This would have been his last battle, you must remember, Mr Aske—his very last battle!'

That silenced Aske, as Elizabeth herself could hear the echo of his own words from yesterday: In 1812 we were losing the war . . . And that had been before this image of a defeated dummy3