Chapter 16 The Gamester by Rafael Sabatini
RE-ENTER DON PABLO
Mr Law sat making calculations upon a large sheet that was already black with figures, besides three thumbnail sketches of a woman's head that might have been recognized by those who knew her well as that of the Countess of Horn.
To him thus absorbed was announced the Earl of Stair.
His lordship in sky-blue, with stockings rolled above the knee, may not have been easy on the eye but he certainly commanded it. He sauntered in swinging a cane, doffed his tricorne, made a leg, and professed himself Mr Law's obedient servant.
"I protest, sir, that if you continue to rise at your present rate you will soon be beyond the reach of us lesser mortals."
"Your lordship rallies me. Pray tell me how to serve you."
"I thank you. I should not dare. I find you housed like a prince."
"Say like a cardinal. This house was once Mazarin's."
"Is not a cardinal a sort of prince, and one who knows how to live and how to build? There is no such noble staircase as yours either at Kensington or St James's, and the tapestries with which you adorn it would be worth a king's ransom. But then a million to you is as a guinea to me. Permit me to envy you."
"Why not? It's a form of flattery. Were you seeking a million or so?"
The question, coldly asked, shattered the earl's air of banter. "Could you tell me where to find one?"
"At need, if that were the object of your visit, as it is in these days the object of most of my distinguished visitors: the auri sacra fames. However, it were to do your lordship injustice not to suppose that you will have a nobler purpose. Will you not sit?"
"In effect," said his lordship. He hung his cane on a button, drew forth his snuffbox, tapped it, proffered it, and thereafter found himself a chair and crossed his elegant legs. "In your wide fields of financial acquaintances do you number, I wonder, a Spaniard named Pablo Alvarez?"
"Pablo Alvarez?" Veiling his surprise, Mr Law paused a moment before answering. "I know him. Yes. I believe he is in London at present."
Stair shook his head. "For once you are at fault. He was, but he has decamped. He is bankrupt and charged with frauds in connection with the South Sea Company. London wants him."
"For what purpose?"
"Why, to hang him, I presume. He has been traced through Holland to France. No doubt he will be seeking to reach Spain, where he could account himself safe. But the present difficult relations between France and Spain, will prevent him from crossing the frontier without a passport. That is something with which he may not have reckoned. I have just seen the Regent, to beg that this man, if he presents himself, should not only be refused a passport, but be arrested and handed over to us. His Highness proved difficult. He would give me no undertaking." He sighed. "I fear that for all my efforts I have never succeeded in winning his affection. That is why I now come to you."
"To me! Your lordship jests. Can I do what the Regent won't?"
"You might guide the Regent's mind. You certainly possess the secret of it. It is common gossip that who would obtain anything from His Highness should ask it of Monsieur le Baron Lass. Which is as it should be." Stair smiled. "The man who holds the purse should call the piper's tune."
"All that's but blether," said the Laird of Lauriston.
"Ay. Maybe. The question is will you move His Highness to oblige us."
Mr Law, his face expressionless, again took a moment to consider. "As you please. I'll see what I can do. But understand that I promise no result. I shall use my own judgment entirely."
"With that I must be content, I suppose. My gratitude may not be much to you, but, such as it is, I hope you will condescend to earn it by this service." He rose to go.
"The million you were asking for would be more easily provided."
Lord Stair looked at him with narrowing eyes, hesitating. "And, for that matter, far more welcome, I can assure you." He paused before adding with a laugh that betrayed embarrassment: "I suppose you could not tell me where to find it."
"Why not?" Mr Law spoke carelessly, as one to whom the bestowal of millions was negligible. It amused him perhaps to beat down the arrogance of station with the arrogance of wealth. "Why not? Buy a thousand shares in the India Company."
"But they are a thousand livres apiece. My dear Law! That would cost me a million."
"It need cost you little more than a thousand louis. For all you need deposit is fifty livres for each share as a first instalment. Before the second instalment falls due the stock will at least have doubled in value. You can then sell enough to provide the second payment, and before the third is due you will have made your million or more. I'll waive in your case the qualifying shares, and instruct my man McWhirter accordingly. You'll find him at the Bank in Rue Quincampoix."
Stair's hooded eyes had become very prominent. "And if your prognostications do not come true?" he asked.
"You may lose your thousand louis. But you can depend upon my word."
"It's a gamble, of course."
"Hardly. A gamble implies a risk, and there's none here. But maybe you're over-virtuous to gamble even when there is no risk."
His impecunious lordship stroked his long chin, reflecting. Slowly he asked: "Where do you say I'll find this India Company stock?"
"At the office of the Bank, in the Rue Quincampoix. Ask for Angus McWhirter, a brother Scot, who's my man of confidence. I'll give you a note to him."
Lord Stair stepped down completely from the chilly heights of pride, on which he habitually dwelt. For once he was rendered almost effusive. When presently he took his leave, he did so warmly, professing himself Mr Law's profound debtor and with a last recommendation in the matter of the Spanish bankrupt.
Although he had betrayed no sign of it, it was distressing to Mr Law to learn of the troubles of his old friend Alvarez, and it was still on his mind when, two days later, and just as he was about to go to dinner, his brother surprised him by ushering into his room the very man who had supplied the motive for Lord Stair's visit.
Don Pablo Alvarez, a trifle more corpulent than when last seen, four years ago, in Turin, his sallow face more deeply lined, advanced upon Mr Law with open arms trumpeting his gladness to see him again, and swearing that as he was passing through Paris he could not forgo the joy of coming to embrace him.
It was not a joy that at the moment Mr Law could share. He suffered the embrace with fortitude. "I wish I could return the compliment," he said. "But then, my dear Pablo, I happen to know the trouble that accounts for your presence."
"Trouble! Ay, and what trouble! Dios mio, what trouble, my friend!" His black eyes were wistful as a hound's. "But will you tell me how the devil you come to know of it already?"
"From the British ambassador. He has asked me to persuade the Regent to have you arrested and sent back to London should you happen to be found in France."
The Spaniard stood a moment speechless in dismayed amazement. Then he exploded. "Mother of God! Will they go to such lengths as that?"
"Reassure yourself," said Mr Law. "I have no intention of obliging my Lord Stair."
Alvarez resumed a breathing momentarily suspended. "Valgame Dios! I should have known that. For an instant I felt the rope round my neck." He eased his cravat as he spoke.
Mr Law thrust him into a chair, soothed him with assurances of friendship and assistance, and asked for an account of his troubles. Volubly, the Spaniard related how he had been caught and ruined over South Sea stock. He had accounted it crazily overpriced, and had sold what he didn't possess, convinced that a fall was inevitable and must enable him to cover his transactions. But instead of falling, as any but a fool would have expected, the cursed worthless stock had risen further. He ended by swearing that if anything was certain in this world it was that the South Sea stock was a bubble that would very soon be pricked.
"But not soon enough for you," said William, "and meanwhile it's yourself is the bubble that's been burst."
"And so you bolted," said Mr Law. "Well, well, if we can't be honest we should at least be prudent."
"D'ye call me dishonest?" Don Pablo was almost lachrymose.
"Don't you? Or is it honest to sell what you don't possess, and then decamp with the money?"
"What money? I take God to witness I had none of their money. It is they who were clamouring for mine, since I couldn't deliver the stock. And now, it seems, they're yelling for my blood as if that will reimburse them."
"A preposterous world."
Don Pablo took him seriously. "It's not for you to find fault with it, you that had the wisdom to come to Paris. Would to Heaven I had come with you when you urged it. The greatest man in France today after the Regent, controlling its finances, dispensing millions, courted by princes, housed here like a king. Ay, ay! Who wouldn't envy you?"
"Let us rather talk of yourself, Pablo. You'll be on your way to Spain. But things are not easy between France and Spain at the moment. You'll need a passport if you're to cross the Pyrénées."
"Cellamare is providing."
"Who?"
"The Prince of Cellamare. Naturally it was to him I went for help on arrival here. He is arranging for me to travel as a valet to a young Spanish priest who is returning to Madrid."
"I see. And when does this priest of Cellamare's set out?"
"In a day or two as soon as he returns to Paris. He's away at Sceaux at present."
"At Sceaux!" Mr Law's expression became suddenly alert. "At Sceaux, eh? Do you happen to know what a Spanish priest should be doing in that carnival-haunt?"
Don Pablo shrugged. "How should I? Cellamare didn't mention it. All he told me was that this abbé--Porto-Carrero is his name--arrived from Madrid a couple of days ago and will be returning at once."
"So! He arrived from Madrid a couple of days ago and will be returning at once, and in the meanwhile he spends his time--his couple of days--at Sceaux." Don Pablo was puzzled by Mr Law's apparent amusement. "I thought it singular that your proud, almost unapproachable, grandee of Spain should be concerned to help an absconding bankrupt. But now things begin to open out. Your abbé begins to look like a messenger--a messenger between Spain and Sceaux. Is not that odd?"
"But the man's a priest."
"That is what is odd. If he were not a priest the case would be less curious. And this messenger is not only a priest but a man of birth. Porto-Carrero is no common name. Now, why should such a man be running messages? Don't you guess the answer?"
"Whatever do you mean? What answer is to be guessed?"
"That these are not messages to be entrusted to a common courier."
"Surely that's just an assumption," William interjected.
"To be sure it is. But there's no lack of ground for it when you know what goes on at Sceaux. They plot there; they dabble gaily in high-treason; the little Duchess has said that she wants to set the kingdom ablaze under the feet of the Duke of Orléans. In the intervals of their madrigals and serenades and play-acting and a deal of harlotry, they conspire to overthrow the Regent and bring in the King of Spain."
"My God!" Don Pablo gasped. "But if it's known..."
"Oh, it's known. But the Regent laughs at their plotting, accounts it so much cabotinage, shrugs his shoulders at the scurrilous verses her Grace's hireling poetasters write to defame him. He may have been right, so long as all the plotting was just so much buffoonery, but what you now tell me suggests that Spain is actually responsive. It becomes serious. Perhaps Alberoni sees his profit in advancing the plans of the Maines. I don't think the Regent would laugh at that."
"Man!" ejaculated William. "That's just what he'll be doing if you carry that tale to him. Its foundations are over-slight. Ye'll need some proof before ye bring so heavy a charge."
Upon reflection Mr Law was to agree with this. "We must provide it," he said. "Where are you lodged, Pablo?"
"At the Spanish embassy. The Prince of Cellamare has offered me the hospitality of his house until Porto-Carrero is ready to leave."
Mr Law looked at his brother. "That alone should convince you. Or do you think it natural in the haughty Cellamare to take absconding financiers to his bosom? As for you, Pablo, you shall go back to the embassy in my carriage, and my advice to you is to lie close until you leave. If you should come to see me again take your precautions. And now let us go to dinner."
Don Pablo did come again, in the dusk of the following evening. Obedient to Mr Law's injunction he came secretly in a closed sedan chair. His compelling purpose was that he needed money, although he wrapped this up in the desire to take his leave of his old friend. He reported that the Abbé de Porto-Carrero had returned that morning to the embassy from Sceaux and would be setting out for Madrid early on the morrow together with a Spanish gentleman named Monteléon, who had arrived from the Hague.
Mr Law supplied his financial needs with that princely liberality and contempt for money in which it was his way to deal, and desired him a safe journey into Spain.
"You are assured, I hope," he said, "that you are safely covered by inclusion as a servant in your abbé's passport."
"Oh, entirely. As the Abbé de Porto-Carrero's valet I share his diplomatic immunity; for he will be carrying embassy dispatches."
To Mr Law this was the last link in his chain of assumptions. There was about him for a moment the stillness of deep thought following upon sudden revelation. "Embassy despatches, eh?" he said at last, his eyes intent. "Then I was hardly wrong in guessing him a messenger."
"And hardly right," laughed Don Pablo. "For he is certainly not the kind of messenger you imagined."
To this there was no reply. But after the Spaniard, effusively grateful, had departed, Mr Law called for his carriage, and went off to the Palais Royal and Dubois, demanding that he be procured an instant audience with the Regent.
The little Abbé laughed at him. "Not if Paris were blazing," said he. "His Highness has gone to supper, and the door is locked for the night."
"It must be unlocked," Mr Law insisted, and he went on briefly to tell Dubois what, according to his deductions, was afoot. "Let these men set out by all means," he ended. "But they should instantly be followed and arrested."
Dubois was now well on the way to the fulfilment of his ambition to become a second Richelieu. Therefore this matter should concern him closely. Nevertheless, he laughed more freely than ever. "Arrested! Arrest two gentlemen, both of them men of quality, upon no more than these vague suspicions of yours?"
"My suspicions may be suspicions, but they are not vague. Where is your common sense? You say they are persons of quality. Since when has an ambassador--even a Spanish ambassador--used persons of quality for his couriers?"
The Abbé shrugged. "Come, come, my friend. These gentlemen are going to Spain. It does not seem to me remarkable that they should oblige Cellamare by carrying his letters."
"But don't you see that they are letters which this Porto-Carrero appears to have come to France especially to fetch? Probably in answer to letters that he brought. Don't all the circumstances point to that? All the way from Madrid to spend four days in France and three of them at Sceaux, which is bubbling at present with treason. You have your spies, Abbé, and so have I. It happens that there is a vindictive young gentleman named Horn at Sceaux in whose movements I take an interest, and I know what I am saying of their occupation there in these days."
"Yes, yes." Dubois was becoming impatient. "I know all that and more. And so does the Regent. Let us say that all your assumptions are correct. What is certain is that the Regent would never sanction any action upon them; nor do I see what action we could take."
"I have told you. Seize the person of this young priest, and get his papers."
"My dear Baron!" Dubois was scandalized. "You can't realize what you are saying. Papers under the ambassadorial seal are inviolate--sacred. Wars have been fought for less than the offence you propose. And, anyway, why so hot? If His Highness chooses to laugh at these plots, why need you trouble about them."
Mr Law strove with his impatience. "My dear Abbé, you do less than justice to your repute for shrewdness. As long as the plotting is merely at Sceaux--the windy histrionics of a silly duchess--you and I could laugh with the Regent. But haven't we something more? A messenger has come from Madrid. The Spanish ambassador is in the business. Doesn't this mean that King Philip begins to take the matter seriously? And you want to know why I'm so hot. If whilst the Regent laughs they cut the ground from under his feet, what would happen to me? My friends of the Parliament nearly hanged me once. And, for that matter, what would happen to you, Abbé? Do the Maines and their friends love you so much that you would feel safe if the Regent were overthrown?"
"It's all a surmise," Dubois insisted, but more thoughtfully. "And I certainly dare not take such extreme and dangerous action on no better grounds. To seize embassy papers..."
"But if they contain evidence of treason?"
"We can't prove that until we possess them, and we dare not possess them until we have proved it. Amusing, perhaps. But it's a deadlock, and I certainly dare not break it."
"Is that your last word?"
"More, my friend. It's an epilogue."
"Then I must do as I can."
Dubois was alarmed. "What the devil's in your mind?"
"That I must do it for you."
"Are you quite mad?" Dubois had changed colour. "You may be a daring gamester, Baron. But this is a gamble that should daunt even you. You will be staking your head on it."
"Oh! My head!"
"At least your career. It would ruin you. For God's sake take thought, man. Leave matters that don't concern you."
"I've endeavoured to show you that they do concern me."
"But not to the extent of running into this danger. I beg you to be warned, my friend."
"Very well." Mr Law became abrupt. "We'll say no more. And now, another matter. Lord Stair called on me a few days ago..."
"About a defaulting bankrupt? I know. He told me that he had sought your aid. What is your interest in that?"
"The bankrupt is an old friend of mine, and I should like to oblige him. There is a document I require from you concerning him."
When he had stated it the Abbé was bewildered. "You become more mysterious than ever. Do you wish to assist Stair, or don't you? Devil take me if I understand you."
"You will eventually. Meanwhile oblige me as I ask. You see that it can do no harm. France has no interest in this man."
Because this, at least, was clear, the Abbé made no further difficulty. But he remained profoundly puzzled and even vaguely alarmed when Mr Law had left him.