coming back with me tonight?”
“No, Jeffrey. I wants to get back to France. I’ve got a meeting in Roscoff on the morrow with these people who are prepared to pay to have their Emperor back. If I clinch the deal, you’d better come over. We’ll have to build a special boat, but there’s no difficulty about that.”
“Not if they’ll pay for it.”
“They’ll do that. They’ll do anythin’ I ask of them.”
“Forty thousand quid!” Farlow said almost beneath his breath. “That’s a hell of a lot of money!”
“And a hell of a lot of risk,” Tom Johnson replied. “If you want to join in the talk, come over in the other boat.”
“They’ll cross tomorrow. They’re rested by now.”
“They’d better be. There’s no point in missing this weather. We did record time this eve.”
“I believe you. I only got here a few minutes ago.”
“I’m glad you did. I wanted to see you. You’re in agreement, then, that we try to get Bonaparte back to France?”
“Half the money down afore we start on the boat!”
“I’ll make sure of that. We might even ask for the lot!”
“Why not?” Farlow enquired.
“Why not, indeed?” Johnson replied.
Lord Cheriton thought that Tom Johnson had started to walk away, then he heard Jeffrey Farlow say,
“By the way, Tom, there’s a stranger in the village. Moved into Larks Hall.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s been an Army Officer, he says.”
“There’s plenty of them driftin’ about.”
“I don’t care for this man. He turned up with a man-servant and persuaded Wivina to put him up.”
Tom Johnson laughed.
“And that got under your skin, eh, Jeffrey? She’s a pretty piece. You’d best get her into bed afore someone else fancies her.”
“She’ll marry me!” Farlow said harshly.
Tom Johnson laughed mockingly, then he said angrily,
“We can’t afford to take any chances. What the hell do you mean by letting strangers into Larkswell? Get rid of them. Get rid of them both.”
“I intend to.”
“The sooner the better! You might try a little persuasion on the servant to make him talk. He’ll probably crack soon enough!”
Without waiting for Jeffrey Farlow’s reply, Tom Johnson must have walked away.
Lord Cheriton heard him ask,
“Is that the lot?”
“Aye!”
He was aware that Jeffrey Farlow was standing where Tom Johnson had left him.
Some moments passed before finally he heard him move, following the ponies, which were already going back the way they had come.
The whole operation had taken a very short time, so short that Lord Cheriton was aware that the tugmen were experts, doubtless from long experience.
What he had overheard astounded him.
Yet it was certainly a clever idea of the French that the smugglers should organise Bonaparte’s escape from the island where he had been confined.
It had always been alleged that the smugglers had regularly carried war secrets and French spies across the Channel.
There were several instances which Lord Cheriton had studied where for sufficient reward they had taken home escaped prisoners of war.
He remembered now that a West Country smuggler, Jack Rattenbury, was caught after he had agreed to take four French Officers back to France for one hundred pounds.
The Officers had been arrested at a seaside house where Rattenbury had hidden them, but what was so fantastic was that he had bluffed the Magistrates, doubtless because they were afraid of him, into believing that he had thought the prisoners in question were natives of Jersey.
They had therefore dismissed him with a gentle admonition to go home and not engage in any similar escapades in the future.
But transporting French Officers from England was a very different thing from liberating Napoleon from Elba. Lord Cheriton knew that if Napoleon could get back to France, it would be possible for him to rally together the remnants of his Army and lead them once again into battle.
‘The Prime Minister must know about this,’
“No, Jeffrey. I wants to get back to France. I’ve got a meeting in Roscoff on the morrow with these people who are prepared to pay to have their Emperor back. If I clinch the deal, you’d better come over. We’ll have to build a special boat, but there’s no difficulty about that.”
“Not if they’ll pay for it.”
“They’ll do that. They’ll do anythin’ I ask of them.”
“Forty thousand quid!” Farlow said almost beneath his breath. “That’s a hell of a lot of money!”
“And a hell of a lot of risk,” Tom Johnson replied. “If you want to join in the talk, come over in the other boat.”
“They’ll cross tomorrow. They’re rested by now.”
“They’d better be. There’s no point in missing this weather. We did record time this eve.”
“I believe you. I only got here a few minutes ago.”
“I’m glad you did. I wanted to see you. You’re in agreement, then, that we try to get Bonaparte back to France?”
“Half the money down afore we start on the boat!”
“I’ll make sure of that. We might even ask for the lot!”
“Why not?” Farlow enquired.
“Why not, indeed?” Johnson replied.
Lord Cheriton thought that Tom Johnson had started to walk away, then he heard Jeffrey Farlow say,
“By the way, Tom, there’s a stranger in the village. Moved into Larks Hall.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s been an Army Officer, he says.”
“There’s plenty of them driftin’ about.”
“I don’t care for this man. He turned up with a man-servant and persuaded Wivina to put him up.”
Tom Johnson laughed.
“And that got under your skin, eh, Jeffrey? She’s a pretty piece. You’d best get her into bed afore someone else fancies her.”
“She’ll marry me!” Farlow said harshly.
Tom Johnson laughed mockingly, then he said angrily,
“We can’t afford to take any chances. What the hell do you mean by letting strangers into Larkswell? Get rid of them. Get rid of them both.”
“I intend to.”
“The sooner the better! You might try a little persuasion on the servant to make him talk. He’ll probably crack soon enough!”
Without waiting for Jeffrey Farlow’s reply, Tom Johnson must have walked away.
Lord Cheriton heard him ask,
“Is that the lot?”
“Aye!”
He was aware that Jeffrey Farlow was standing where Tom Johnson had left him.
Some moments passed before finally he heard him move, following the ponies, which were already going back the way they had come.
The whole operation had taken a very short time, so short that Lord Cheriton was aware that the tugmen were experts, doubtless from long experience.
What he had overheard astounded him.
Yet it was certainly a clever idea of the French that the smugglers should organise Bonaparte’s escape from the island where he had been confined.
It had always been alleged that the smugglers had regularly carried war secrets and French spies across the Channel.
There were several instances which Lord Cheriton had studied where for sufficient reward they had taken home escaped prisoners of war.
He remembered now that a West Country smuggler, Jack Rattenbury, was caught after he had agreed to take four French Officers back to France for one hundred pounds.
The Officers had been arrested at a seaside house where Rattenbury had hidden them, but what was so fantastic was that he had bluffed the Magistrates, doubtless because they were afraid of him, into believing that he had thought the prisoners in question were natives of Jersey.
They had therefore dismissed him with a gentle admonition to go home and not engage in any similar escapades in the future.
But transporting French Officers from England was a very different thing from liberating Napoleon from Elba. Lord Cheriton knew that if Napoleon could get back to France, it would be possible for him to rally together the remnants of his Army and lead them once again into battle.
‘The Prime Minister must know about this,’
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