With All Despatch

sworn duty to obtain the King's release, by any means, no matter the cost!' His voice grew stronger, and despite his doubts Bolitho could see the younger man emerging.

'Here in the Low Countries we have amassed a fortune.

Precious jewels, gold-' He lowered his forehead on to one hand. 'A King's ransom, the English might call it.' But there was no mirth in his tone. 'It is close by. Soon it must be moved and put to work.'

Bolitho asked gently, 'Where did it come from, m'sieu?'

'From the many whose families have suffered and died under the guillotine. From others who seek only a return to a cultured, inventive life.' He looked up, his eyes flashing. 'It will be used to free the King, by bribery, by force if it must be so, and some to mount a counter-revolution. There are many loyal officers in the South of France, m'sieu, and the world shall witness such a reckoning! We will do to these vermin what they have done to us!' His outburst seemed to weaken him. 'We shall speak further when some of my friends arrive.' He gestured towards another door. 'Go there, Capitaine, and meet your fellow agent-provocateur.'

His aide entered again and waited to assist him to some stairs. At their foot he turned and said firmly, ' France lives! Long live the King!'

The aide gave what might have been a small shrug. To Allday he said curtly, 'Wait here. I will send for some food and wine.'

Allday muttered, 'Little puppy! It's them like him who lost France, if you ask me, Cap'n!'

Bolitho touched his arm. 'Be easy, old friend. There is much we have yet to understand. But do as he says, and keep your eyes open.' He did not have to say any more.

Then he pressed on the other door and walked into a more comfortable room.

As the door closed behind him, a figure who had been sitting in a high-backed chair facing another lively fire, rose and confronted him.

'Bolitho? I trust the journey was none too arduous?'

Bolitho had only seen the man twice before and each time at a distance. But there was no mistaking him. About his own age, with the arrogant good looks and cruel mouth he remembered from the Rochester Road, and that brief moment in the coach window at Dover.

He felt his hand fall to his sword. 'Sir James Tanner.' He was calmed by the flatness in his voice. 'I never thought I'd meet a cur like you here!'

Tanner's face tightened but he seemed to control his immediate reaction with a practised effort.

'I have no choice. It is Lord Marcuard's wish. Otherwise-'

Bolitho said, 'When this is over I intend to see you brought to justice.'

Tanner turned his back. 'Let me tell you things, Bolitho, before your damned impertinence puts us both in jeopardy. Be assured, I would like nothing better than to call you out here and now.'

Bolitho watched his squared shoulders. 'You will find me ready enough, sir! '

Tanner turned and faced him again. 'Your life is so clean and well charted, Bolitho. It lies 'twixt forecastle and poop with no bridge in between, where a captain's word is law, when no one shall defy it!' He was speaking faster now. 'Why not try stepping outside and into the real world, eh? You will soon discover that the politics of survival tend to create strange bedfellows!' He seemed to relax slightly as he gestured casually between them. 'Like us, for instance.'

'It sickens me even to share the same room.'

Tanner eyed him thoughtfully. 'You would never prove it, you know. Never in ten thousand years. Others have tried before you.' He became suddenly reasonable. 'Take yourself, Bolitho. When you returned from the American War you discovered your family estate pared away, sold to pay for your brother's debts, is that not correct?' His voice was smooth and insistent. 'You fought bravely, and that was your reward.'

Bolitho held his expression as before but only with difficulty. At every corner, in every turn, there was always Hugh's disgrace, the memory used to shame or belittle the family as it had killed their father.

Tanner was saying, 'My father lost nearly everything. His debtors were measured in leagues, believe me. But I got all of it back on my own.'

'By organising a smuggling trade that was unrivalled anywhere.'

'Hearsay, Bolitho. And even if it were so, nobody will stand up and swear it.' He leaned over the chair and tapped the leather with his hand. 'D'you imagine I want to be here, involved in a wild scheme which has about as much chance of succeeding as a snowman in a furnace!'

'Then why are you?'

'Because I am the only one Lord Marcuard trusts to execute the plan. How do you imagine you reached here unscathed? You do not know the country or its language, and yet here you are. The fishermen are in my employ. Oh yes, they may be smugglers, who can say? But you came here in safety because I arranged it, even to suggesting the exact point at which to bring you ashore.'

'And what of Delaval?'

Tanner became thoughtful. 'He worked for me, too. But he had grand ideas, became less and less prepared to take orders. So you see-'

'He thought you were going to gain his discharge.'

'Yes, he did. He was a boaster and a liar, a dangerous combination.'

Bolitho said, 'Is that all there is to it?'

'Not completely. Lord Marcuard will have his way. You still do not understand this real world, do you? If he chose, Marcuard could use his power against me, and all my land and property would be forfeit. And if you are thinking I could still live at ease elsewhere, then I beg you to dismiss the idea. From Marcuard there is no hiding place. Not on this earth anyway.'

They faced each other, Tanner breathing hard, his eyes watchful, a man too clever to reveal the triumph he now felt.

Bolitho was still numbed by the fact that he was here. Had even planned his arrival.

Tanner said easily, 'We have to work together. There was never any choice for either of us. I wanted to meet you before that old man did, but he suggested it might be difficult.'

Bolitho nodded, in agreement for the first time. 'I'd have killed you.'

'You would have tried to do so, I dare say. It seems to run in your family.' He spread his arms. 'What can you hope for? If you go to the Dutch Customs House they will laugh at you. If French spies discover what you are about here, many will die, and the treasure will go to the revolutionary government.' He tapped the chair with his hand again. 'To use for supplying ships and weapons which your sailors will have to face before much longer!'

He seemed to tire of it. 'Now I shall take my leave. M'sieu will wish to speak at length about this matter, and of course on the glory which was France.' His voice was still smooth as he added, 'Do not delay too long. My men will not wait forever.'

He used a small side-door, and Bolitho heard horses stamping on some sort of track.

Bolitho left the room and saw Allday staring at him. Despite his bronzed features his face looked ashen.

'What is it? Speak, man!'

Allday watched the closed door.

'That man you just met. His voice. It was him. I'd not forget that one in a lifetime!'

Bolitho saw his eyes spark with memory. It was as he had suspected. The man in the carriage who had ordered Allday to kill the sailor from the press gang, and Sir James Tanner, were one and the same.

Bolitho touched his arm and said, 'It is well he did not know it. At least we are forewarned.' He stared into the shadows. 'Otherwise he would see us both dead before this is over and done with.'

'But what happened, Cap'n?'

Bolitho looked up as voices floated from the stairway. The glory which was France.

He said quietly, 'I was outmanoeuvred.' He clapped him on the arm. Allday needed him now. 'This time.'