colour of your money first.’
Jay produced six louis d’or from his pocket and put them on the table where they gleamed golden in a shaft of sunlight coming through a dusty window. Before leaving London, he had obtained them from his bank, which had been taking them from émigrés in exchange for sovereigns. He guessed the banker was only too pleased to reverse the process. To these men, they represented undreamed-of wealth.
Bullard picked one up and bit into it, then he called Cartel and the other man on duty. ‘Seems he’s as good as his word,’ he told them, indicating Jay. ‘Do we let him have a few words with the prisoner?’
‘Can’t see it will do any harm,’ Cartel said, gazing hungrily at the money. ‘Philippe can take him through.’
‘I’ll have my share afore I do,’ the third man insisted, picking up two of the coins and stowing them in his waistcoat pocket. Then he beckoned Jay to follow him.
The prison was not large and contained only half-a-dozen cells. No doubt before the Revolution there was comparatively little crime in the town, but now it was full of political prisoners crammed together in squalor. Jay, who considered himself used to poor living conditions from his time in the navy, found himself wrinkling his nose at the smell.
The guard stopped outside one cell and shouted, ‘Citoyen Giradet, you are wanted.’
Nothing happened immediately and then there was a movement among the inmates who parted to allow a frail old man to make his way slowly to the bars. Jay was shocked by his appearance. He was filthy and in rags, his white hair a tangled mass. He had obviously not shaved since his arrest and his beard was lank. It was clear to Jay that he would be too frail to run, or even walk, and that getting him out and away was going to be more difficult than he had imagined.
‘Who are you?’ the old man croaked.
‘My name is James Smith. I am from England.’
‘Never heard of you. What do you want?’
‘I want to buy Calvados, but your daughter will not sell it to me without your consent.’
The old man’s tired eyes lit up. ‘You have spoken to my daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is she well? They have not harmed her?’
‘She is unharmed and looking after everything until you can be reunited. But what about the brandy?’
‘Merde, is that all you can think of, you English, money and your stiff-necked pride?’
‘You know nothing of my pride,’ Jay snapped. ‘But I do have money to exchange for Calvados.’
‘Louis d’or at that,’ the gaoler said with a grin, which told Jay quite plainly that any money handed to the old man would be taken from him.
‘My daughter can do as she pleases and she knows it, so why come here to bother me?’ Gervais paused, peering up at Jay. ‘Unless you have a message from her.’
‘Only that she is doing her best.’
‘That’s enough,’ the gaoler put in. ‘You have the permission you wanted, the interview is at an end.’ He put his filthy hand on Jay’s sleeve.
Jay shrugged him off. ‘You do not need to manhandle me, man. I am leaving.’ He turned back to the Comte. ‘I will tell your daughter she may deal with me with your blessing, shall I?’
If the Comte understood what he was trying to say, he gave no indication of it. ‘You leave my daughter alone, do you hear me? I won’t have her going off with any damned Englishman.’
Jay laughed softly and followed the gaoler back to the office where the other two were already making inroads into the brandy. ‘Is that one of the richest men in Honfleur?’ he asked, jerking his head back towards the cells. ‘He is a sorry specimen if he is.’
‘He will be even sorrier before long,’ Bullard said. ‘His crimes are so great Henri Canard is having him indicted in Paris. We shan’t have the pleasure of seeing him hang. He will lose his head to that new contraption they call a guillotine. I haven’t seen it at work, but they do say the head lives on minutes after it has been severed from the body.’
‘When will he go?’ Jay asked, trying not to show his disgust at the casual way the man had spoken. ‘I hope it will not be before I have made my deal with the Comte’s daughter and taken delivery of the merchandise.’
‘We have to wait for the summons from Paris. Henri Canard has gone himself to get the necessary papers for his transportation.’
‘Then I will do my deal as soon as may be and hasten my own departure.’ He produced three more gold coins and put them on the table. ‘For your co-operation,’ he said and left them.
He strode back to his grandfather’s villa in a pensive mood. The Comte was barely more than skin and bone and much older than he had imagined. He had assumed that he had fathered Lisette in his twenties and, as she was surely no more than twenty-five or six, then her father would be in his fifties. But he was seventy if he was a day, about the same age as his grandfather. Sir John was hale and hearty, but the Comte looked as though a blow from a feather would knock him over. Had he been like that before he was thrown into prison or had prison itself aged him? How on earth was he to get two old men and a young lady out of France and on a boat to England without one or the other of them collapsing on him?
He found both Sam and Lisette with his grandfather. ‘I thought I told you to go home and wait,’ he said.
‘I did not choose to. I knew you would come back here and I wanted to hear what went on.’
Jay threw himself into a chair. ‘Nothing went on. I paid the dues and had a few words with the Comte.’
‘What did he say?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Did you tell him we were going to try to get him out?’
‘No, of course I did not. We had an audience.’
‘Then it was a waste of time.’
‘Not at all. I established that he is going to be sent to Paris for trial. Henri Canard is too impatient to wait for the summons and has gone to fetch it himself.’
‘Oh, no! We are lost. We will never get him out of a Paris prison.’
Jay heard the distress in her voice and found himself wanting to reach out to comfort her. The feeling was so alien to him, he was taken aback. He could not allow her to penetrate his reserve—sympathetic to her plight he might be, but that was all it was. Nothing would be achieved by becoming soft. He pulled himself together. ‘Pray, do not distress yourself, mademoiselle. If I have my way, he will never reach Paris. He will not leave Normandy, except on the Lady Amy.’
‘You have a plan to break him out before they come for him?’ Sam queried, his eyes lighting up.
‘I do not think breaking him out is a good idea,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘There are other ways, but I need more information. I need to know how the Comte is likely to be transported and when.’ He turned to Sam. ‘Do you think you can continue your comradeship with those gaolers?’
