Still courting his commander’s favour, Captain Raoul Valeran delivered his report with the quiet smile of someone expecting praise for his efforts. Seated at a table in his tent, Vendome was leafing through some papers as he listened.
‘I believe that I’ve found how he got into the camp,’ said Valeran. ‘Posing as a sutler, he joined some wagons that came here a few days ago. I’ve spoken to some of the soldiers who guarded them.’
‘Do we know what name he used?’ asked Vendome.
‘It was Gustave Carraud.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
‘I made enquiries among the other sutlers, Your Grace. A man of that name came and went, leaving his wagon behind him.’
‘Why should he do that?’
‘I can only imagine that he had no need of it.’
‘Then how did he escape?’ pressed Vendome, looking up at him. ‘He could hardly have walked all the way back to the British camp, especially as he had two women with him.’
‘I have the answer to that,’ said Valeran, eager to impress. ‘It seems that he arrived here with two horses. They vanished at the same time as Captain Rawson and the women.’
‘I see. You’ve done well, Raoul. I congratulate you.’
Valeran beamed. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’
‘It’s a pity that your investigation into the burning down of that farm was not so fruitful. That crime remains unsolved. However,’ he continued as Valeran’s face crumpled, ‘you’ve made amends here. At least we now know how Captain Rawson entered the camp. What is not clear is how he left it during the night.’
‘That takes us into the realm of guesswork.’
‘Quite so,’ said Vendome, standing up. ‘I assume that you searched this wagon of his?’
‘I did, Your Grace,’ said Valeran, ‘though, by the time I got to it, most of its contents had been stolen. What was left behind, however, confirms my belief that Gustave Carraud was indeed Captain Rawson.’ Lifting up the sword that he was carrying, he showed it to Vendome. ‘This was concealed beneath the seat of the wagon.’
‘How interesting,’ said Vendome, taking the weapon and examining it. ‘This has seen good service, by the look of it. I think your supposition is correct — it must belong to Rawson. What use would a sutler have of an army sabre?’
‘That was exactly the question that I asked.’
‘Did you get a description of this Gustave Carraut?’
‘He’s a well-built man in his thirties who can fight like a demon.’
‘How did you find that out?’
‘He had a brawl with some of the other sutlers. I spoke to witnesses who saw him overpower them with relative ease. Evidently, he’s very fit and strong.’
‘That accords with what we already know of Captain Rawson.’ Vendome studied the sword again. ‘He’s fit, strong, daring and imaginative. He can pass himself off as a wine merchant or a sutler with equal facility. For all that, the captain is not infallible.’ He tapped the sword. ‘This proves it, Raoul.’
‘Does it, Your Grace?’
‘Most assuredly,’ said Vendome. ‘I don’t need to tell you how soldiers cherish their weapons. They grow to have a superstitious reliance on them.’
‘I’d certainly never part with my sword, Your Grace.’
‘I dare swear that Captain Rawson has the same attitude. He’d never have abandoned this unless he was forced to do so. That’s what I mean about his fallibility,’ said Vendome. ‘He made a mistake. I suspect that he’s the sort of man who’ll take steps to rectify it.’
Valeran was dubious. ‘Surely, he’d never try to retrieve it.’
‘I think that’s precisely what he might do, Raoul. Perhaps we don’t need Mademoiselle Janssen, after all.’ He brandished the sword in the air. ‘I could be holding a far better hostage in my hand.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There was a pervasive gloom in the house in Amsterdam. It was almost as if the occupants were in mourning. The longer they waited for news about Amalia Janssen, the more depressed they became. Her father did his best to keep up the spirits of the others but even he was starting to lose hope. Unable to work, he instead watched Kees Dopff, his chief assistant, a short, skinny man in his late twenties who’d once been Emanuel Janssen’s most gifted apprentice. Dopff was a tireless worker, quick to learn, meticulous in all he did and devoted to his master. Conversations between them were largely one-sided because the little weaver had been mute from birth. Since he could use no words, Dopff had to communicate by means of his mobile features and gesticulating hands.
During a break from the loom, he turned to Janssen and offered him a quizzical smile. The old man shook his head.
‘There’s no news as yet, Kees,’ he said, regretfully. ‘I’ve been left in such a daze that I’ve lost count of the number of days that Amalia has been missing now.’ Dopff held up fingers on both hands. ‘Has it really been that short a time? It seems like months. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Amalia was taken. I’m so grateful to have you to continue work on the tapestry because I’m far too tired and preoccupied to concentrate. However,’ he went on, straightening his shoulders, ‘we mustn’t despair. That’s what the Duke of Marlborough said. In his letter, he advised us to bear up and not succumb to fearful thoughts. He also promised to take every step possible to find out where Amalia is and seek to rescue her.’ Dopff nodded eagerly. ‘The trouble is that she could be hundreds of miles from here. Then again,’ he added, ‘she might still be here in Amsterdam. It’s conceivable that someone might be playing a cruel joke on us.’
Dopff stood up and used both hands to convey what he was thinking, tracing elaborate patterns in the air and reinforcing them with a range of facial expressions. Janssen was able to translate.
‘I agree with you, Kees,’ he said. ‘This whole distressing business is probably linked to the fact that we escaped from Paris. Well, you were there. You saw how desperate they were to recapture us.’ Dopff’s head bobbed again. ‘You had the better of it, I fancy,’ he went on, trying to lighten his misery with a touch of humour. ‘You and Amalia got away by boat. I had to be smuggled out of the city, dressed as a woman. I don’t think that Beatrix has ever forgiven me for wearing some of her clothes.’
The two men laughed at the memory. Janssen then left the workshop and went into the house, walking through to the voorhuis so that he could be close to the front door in case any mail was delivered. Beatrix was already there, pretending to dust the furniture while she hovered. She gave Janssen a dutiful smile.
‘Kees and I were just recalling our escape from Paris,’ he said.
‘I’d hate to go through that again.’
‘We all would, Beatrix. It was frightening.’
‘I think it took years off my life,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same again. Yet in some ways, this is even worse. When we had problems in France, we could do something about them. That’s not the case now.’
‘No, it isn’t. We simply don’t know where Amalia is or how we might go to her aid. Being kept in the dark like this is maddening.’
‘We should have heard something by now.’
‘I agree.’
‘The house is not the same without Miss Amalia.’
‘It feels so empty.’
‘Are they still searching the city?’
‘They’ve given up, alas,’ said Janssen, failing to keep a forlorn note out of his voice. ‘They found nothing.’
In the wake of his daughter’s abduction, he’d raised the alarm and a search had been set in motion by the authorities. A handful of witnesses had come forward but none of them had seen the actual kidnap. All that they remembered was a coach hurtling away from the place where Amalia had been seized. Janssen was a man of
