Chapter Four
D
almar
'
s glance, carefully neutral, touched briefly on the diverse uniformed gentlemen of His Majesty
'
s Service, all four of whom were known to him, and who lounged at their ease in Sir Charles
'
s elegant study in the British Embassy. Of their number, only Ransome appeared to have escaped injury in the recent fracas at the Palais Royal. Of the ambassador himself, Sir Charles Stuart, there was nary a sign.
"Mercer, Seymour, Bodley, Ransome,
"
murmured Dalmar, addressing each gentleman in turn. Sheepish glances were exchanged. Dalmar strolled to one of the vacant gilt-edged chairs and carefully seated himself.
"How
'
s the shoulder?
"
asked Major Seymour conversationally.
"Mending nicely, thank you. And your arm?
"
"The same.
"
It was Captain Mercer who interrupted the spate of chitchat and civilities which this small exchange provoked. "What are you doing here, Dalmar? You
'
re no longer under army discipline, as I hear.
"
From his coat pocket, Dalmar withdrew a small enamel snuffbox. He offered it round. "Is that why we
'
re here?
"
he asked mildly. "To be disciplined?
"
Mercer grinned. "Speaking for myself, it wouldn
'
t surprise me. I was the officer in command that night. I
'
ve already been hauled over the coals once for not sending for reinforcements the moment trouble started.
"
"
Thank God someone did,
"
drawled Major Bodley, his fingers absently curling the ends of his handsome mustache. "We
'
re lucky there wasn
'
t a bloodbath. Well, we all know we
'
ve been sitting on a powder keg these last months. The French and the Prussians would like nothing better than to wipe each other off the face of the earth.
"
After a considering silence, Ransome remarked, "What I don
'
t understand is how the devil the rumpus got started. I thought to catch forty winks before joining Lady Ashford
'
s party for the theater. The next thing I knew, our friend here,
"
he indicated Dalmar by a nod of his head, "was shouting bloody murder at the top of his lungs.
"
"D
'
you mean you missed the show?
"
asked Captain Mercer consolingly. Of the five gentlemen present, he was the youngest, and transparently eager to earn his spurs in any affair of honor which presented itself. He
'
d had the misfortune to take a trifling injury at Quatre Bras, two days before the main action at Waterloo, and had lamented his unfortunate fate ever since.
Ransome
'
s lips were very grave as he answered, "It pains me to tell you, Captain, that I slept through the whole of it. Shall I ever live it down?
"
Ignoring this idle exchange, Major Seymour took up the conversation. "As for how it got started, I think Bodley and I can answer that. We were there, you see, at the Cafe de Foy, when a score of those half pay French officers swaggered in. They were looking for a fight, of course, and they got it.
"
"What were you doing in the Cafe de Foy?
"
asked Ransome, mildly surprised. "It
'
s a known Prussian rendezvous.
"
"
They
'
re not all barbarians,
"
protested Seymour. "I
'
m on very good terms with a few of
'
em. Well, I think you all know the gentlemen we were with that night—Hildesheim and Lenk. Dashed good fellows, officers and gentlemen, even if they are Prussians. Put
'
em in a couple of redcoats and one might easily take
'
em for our own chaps.
"
"Could there be a higher encomium?
"
murmured Dalmar ironically. Seymour sliced him a glance, but the Earl
'
s
innocent expression robbed his remark of any real offense. "Go on, old chap,
"
encouraged Dalmar. "You were saying? How the fight got started, or something to that effect?
"
"What? Oh yes. Well, the Prussians weren
'
t looking for trouble on this occasion. As I said, we were enjoying a dashed good dinner when the place was invaded by those offensive half-pay officers. One insult led to another. A scuffle got started and spilled into the gardens. The rest you know.
"
Major Bodley took up where his friend had left off. "Thank God our chaps were on duty that night, or there
'
s no telling how ugly things might have become.
"
"How was it brought under control?
"
asked Dalmar of Captain Mercer.
"Lord Hay himself arrived with reinforcements. It was touch and go there for a minute or two, I can tell you. By this time, you see, word of the fight had spread outside the walls of the Palais Royal, and men of all description were pouring in to aid their comrades. There were more than a hundred Prussians, and a whole troop of gendarmes had arrived. I shall never forget that last confrontation in the gardens—the French ranged on one side and the Prussians on the other, and each side on the point of charging. Lord Hay lost no time in placing our chaps, with muskets at the ready, between them and said that he would give the order to fire upon the first who moved.
"
"And no one moved, I take it?
"
"Well, of course they didn
'
t. These chaps may not have a very high opinion of our swordplay, but Waterloo has taught them to respect our infantry. They melted away like summer snow on the mountain.
"
All heads turned as the door opened to admit a fresh-faced, elderly gentleman of rather stout proportions. The occupants of the room recognized him as James Somerset, one of the ambassador
'
s senior attaches.
"Please be seated,
"
he said, one comprehensive glance taking in the five, who had risen at his entrance. He took his place behind the massive leather-topped desk and began to rifle through some papers. "Sir Charles sends his regrets. He
'
s been
detained at the Tuileries with our delegation.
"
Addressing no one in particular, he went on, patently ruffled. "The Duke also is with His Majesty and at some pains to convince Marshal Blucher that there is more to this unfortunate affair at the Palais Royal than the exchange of a few insults between hotheaded officers of rival factions. I
'
m sorry to say that Marshal Blucher cannot be persuaded to temper the conduct of the troops under his command.
"
A considering silence ensued, each gentleman privately reflecting on the vindictive reprisals the Prussians had exacted against the French in retaliation for Napoleon
'
s victory at Jenna and the subsequent savage subjugation of Berlin nine years before. Unlike the British army of occupation, Prussian troops were billeted in private homes, and the unfortunate inhabitants were obliged to provide for not only their unwelcome guests, but also their horses. But this was not the worst offense by any means. Scarcely a day went by but formal complaints were lodged with Wellington of some atrocity or other openly perpetrated against the defenseless populace by the dregs of the Prussian army. As every man in the room knew, the situation was highly volatile.
"The sins of the victors are now visited upon them by the former vanquished,
"
murmured someone, framing exactly the thought which held each man silent.
Mr. Somerset laced his plump fingers together and placed his joined hands on the flat of the desk. Finally he said, "Forgive me for burdening you with my ill temper. These concerns are for the diplomats to decide. There is one matter relating to the unfortunate affair at the Palais Royal, however, which has fallen to my province. I refer to the murder of the French girl Monique Dupres, whose body was discovered in the gardens outside the Cafe de Foy. For reasons which I am not at liberty to disclose, it is this girl
'
s death more than any other which interests us at present.
"
He could not have surprised them more if he had accused one of their number of the murder itself. Oblivious of any offense he may have given, the
attaché
said very deliberately, "Gentlemen, this is a matter of some delicacy. Once you leave
this room, I am relying on your discretion.
"
It was Ransome, remote and controlled, who interposed, "And that is why w
e have been summoned to this… conclave? Y
ou think, perhaps, that one of us knows something about that unfortunate girl
'
s demise?
"
"Only in a manner of speaking,
"
instantly responded the
attaché
. "None of you is under suspicion for the murder. You are, after all, English gentlemen first and foremost. No, my enquiry is altogether of a different order.
"
"But sir,
"
protested Captain Mercer, "surely this is a matter for the French authorities?
"
His voice etched wi
t
h patience, Mr. Somerset reiterated, "Didn
'
t I just say that we are not primarily interested in the girl
'
s death, but only as it touches on another matter?
"
"Which is?
"
asked Seymour.
Mr. Somerset felt constrained to retrieve a large linen handkerchief from his coat pocket. He immediately set about mopping his pinkening cheeks and bald pate. When he spoke next, it was evident that his supply of patience was running thin. "As I have already explained, I am not at liberty to disclose the nature of our enquiry. Gentlemen, please, disabuse yourselves of the notion that any of you is under suspicion. If it were otherwise, do you suppose for one minute that you would be interviewed en masse?
"
No one saw fit to contradict this inescapable logic, and on a calmer note the
attaché
continued, "Bear with me, please, as I simply try to reconstruct the events of that night. At the outset, let me say immediately that the French authorities are satisfied that Monique Dupres
'
s murderer was a Prussian officer, a certain Captain Zeitler, who met his own demise at roughly the same time.
"
He chanced a quick look at his companions. Satisfied with what he saw, he went on, "To begin at the beginning. At four o
'
clock of the day in question, Mademoiselle Dupres had an interview with an English lady. What transpired during that interview, no one knows. Lord Dalmar, it is known
that you arrived at the Maison d
'
Or during this interview and presented Mademoiselle Dupres with a diamond bracelet. Moments later
you were observed escorting the English lady from the premises.
"
Dalmar said nothing.
Taking the Earl
'
s silence for affirmation, the
attaché
continued, "An hour later, Mademoiselle Dupres also left the premises in company of the aforementioned Captain Zeitler, a Prussian officer of unsteady temper who was an
habitué
of the Maison d
'
Or. A short time later they were observed dining at the Cafe de Foy.
"
He looked up from the paper he had been perusing. "Majors Seymour and Bodley were observed in conversation with the lady.
"
"Of course,
"
answered Bodley without heat. "Why wouldn
'
t we exchange a few commonplaces with Mademoiselle Dupres? She was well known to everyone who was a friend of Jerry Blandford.
"
"Ah yes.
"
The
attaché
shuffled some papers and finally withdrew what he was looking for. "Major the Honorable Jeremy Blandford of the Guards, who lost his life at Waterloo. She became his mistress when he was a member of the British delegation at the Congress of Vienna, and afterward followed him to Brussels when he rejoined his regiment. Mademoiselle Dupres was his hostess on numerous occasions where the highest ranking officers of the British army, not to mention ladies of, shall we say, dubious reputation, were known to congregate and mingle.
"
"We went there to gamble,
"
explained Dalmar with a twinkle in his eye.