The Snare

  CHAPTER VIII. THE INTELLIGENCE OFFICER

  In a small room of Count Redondo's palace, a room that had been setapart for cards, sat three men about a card-table. They were CountSamoval, the elderly Marquis of Minas, lean, bald and vulturine ofaspect, with a deep-set eye that glared fiercely through a singleeyeglass rimmed in tortoise-shell, and a gentleman still on the fairside of middle age, with a clear-cut face and iron-grey hair, who worethe dark green uniform of a major of Cacadores.

  Considering his Portuguese uniform, it is odd that the low-toned,earnest conversation amongst them should have been conducted in French.

  There were cards on the table; but there was no pretence of play. Youmight have conceived them a group of players who, wearied of their game,had relinquished it for conversation. They were the only tenants ofthe room, which was small, cedar-panelled and lighted by a girandole ofsparkling crystal. Through the closed door came faintly from the distantballroom the strains of the dance music.

  With perhaps the single exception of the Principal Souza, the Britishpolicy had no more bitter opponent in Portugal than the Marquis ofMinas. Once a member of the Council of Regency--before Souza had beenelected to that body--he had quitted it in disgust at the Britishmeasures. His chief ground of umbrage had been the appointment ofBritish officers to the command of the Portuguese regiments which formedthe division under Marshal Beresford. In this he saw a deliberate insultand slight to his country and his countrymen. He was a man of burningand blinded patriotism, to whom Portugal was the most glorious nationin the world. He lived in his country's splendid past, refusing torecognise that the days of Henry the Navigator, of Vasco da Gama, ofManuel the Fortunate--days in which Portugal had been great indeedamong the nations of the Old World were gone and done with. He respectedBritons as great merchants and industrious traders; but, after all,merchants and traders are not the peers of fighters on land and sea, ofnavigators, conquerors and civilisers, such as his countrymen had been,such as he believed them still to be. That the descendants of Gamas,Cunhas, Magalhaes and Albuquerques--men whose names were indeliblywritten upon the very face of the world--should be passed over, whilstalien officers lead been brought in to train and command the Portugueselegions, was an affront to Portugal which Minas could never forgive.

  It was thus that he had become a rebel, withdrawing from a governmentwhose supineness he could not condone. For a while his rebellion hadbeen passive, until the Principal Souza had heated him in the fire ofhis own rage and fashioned him into an intriguing instrument of thefirst power. He was listening intently now to the soft, rapid speech ofthe gentleman in the major's uniform.

  "Of course, rumours had reached the Prince of this policy ofdevastation," he was saying, "but his Highness has been disposed totreat these rumours lightly, unable to see, as indeed are we all, whatuseful purpose such a policy could finally serve. He does not underratethe talents of milord Wellington as a commander. He does not imaginethat he would pursue such operations out of pure wantonness; yet ifsuch operations are indeed being pursued, what can they be but wanton? Amoment, Count," he stayed Samoval, who was about to interrupt. Hismind and manner were authoritative. "We know most positively from theEmperor's London agents that the war is unpopular in England; we knowthat public opinion is being prepared for a British retreat, for thedriving of the British into the sea, as must inevitably happen onceMonsieur le Prince decides to launch his bolt. Here in the Tagus theBritish fleet lies ready to embark the troops, and the BritishCabinet itself" (he spoke more slowly and emphatically) "expects thatembarkation to take place at latest in September, which is just aboutthe time that the French offensive should be at its height and theFrench troops under the very walls of Lisbon. I admit that by thispolicy of devastation if, indeed, it be true--added to a stubborncontesting of every foot of ground, the French advance may be retarded.But the process will be costly to Britain in lives and money."

  "And more costly still to Portugal," croaked the Marquis of Minas.

  "And, as you, say, Monsieur le Marquis, more costly still to Portugal.Let me for a moment show you another side of the picture. The Frenchadministration, so sane, so cherishing, animated purely by ideas ofprogress, enforcing wise and beneficial laws, making ever for theprosperity and well-being of conquered nations, knows how to renderitself popular wherever it is established. This Portugal knowsalready--or at least some part of it. There was the administration ofSoult in Oporto, so entirely satisfactory to the people that it was noinconsiderable party was prepared, subject to the Emperor's consent, tooffer him the crown and settle down peacefully under his rule. There wasthe administration of Junot in Lisbon. I ask you: when was Lisbon bettergoverned?

  "Contrast, for a moment, with these the present Britishadministration--for it amounts to an administration. Consider theburning grievances that must be left behind by this policy of laying thecountry waste, of pauperising a million people of all degrees, drivingthem homeless from the lands on which they were born, after compellingthem to lend a hand in the destruction of all that their labour hasbuilt up through long years. If any policy could better serve thepurposes of France, I know it not. The people from here to Beira shouldbe ready to receive the French with open arms, and to welcome theirdeliverance from this most costly and bitter British protection.

  "Do you, Messieurs, detect a flaw in these arguments?"

  Both shook their heads.

  "Bien!" said the major of Portuguese Cacadores. "Then we reach oneor two only possible conclusions: either these rumours of a policy ofdevastation which have reached the Prince of Esslingen are as utterlyfalse as he believes them to be, or--"

  "To my cost I know them to be true, as I have already told you," Samovalinterrupted bitterly.

  "Or," the major persisted, raising a hand to restrain the Count, "orthere is something further that has not been yet discovered--a mysterythe enucleation of which will shed light upon all the rest. Since youassure me, Monsieur le Comte, that milord Wellington's policy is beyonddoubt, as reported to Monsieur, le Marechal, it but remains toaddress ourselves to the discovery of the mystery underlying it.What conclusions have you reached? You, Monsieur de Samoval, have hadexceptional opportunities of observation, I understand."

  "I am afraid my opportunities have been none so exceptional as yousuppose," replied Samoval, with a dubious shake of his sleek, dark head."At one time I founded great hopes in Lady O'Moy. But Lady O'Moy is afool, and does not enjoy her husband's confidence in official matters.What she knows I know. Unfortunately it does not amount to very much.One conclusion, however, I have reached: Wellington is preparing inPortugal a snare for Massena's army."

  "A snare? Hum!" The major pursed his full lips into a smile of scorn."There cannot be a trap with two exits, my friend. Massena entersPortugal at Almeida and marches to Lisbon and the open sea. He may beinconvenienced or hampered in his march; but its goal is certain. Where,then, can lie the snare? Your theory presupposes an impassablebarrier to arrest the French when they are deep in the country andan overwhelming force to cut off their retreat when that barrieris reached. The overwhelming force does not exist and cannot bemanufactured; as for the barrier, no barrier that it lies within humanpower to construct lies beyond French power to over-stride."

  "I should not make too sure of that," Samoval warned him. "And you haveoverlooked something."

  The major glanced at the Count sharply and without satisfaction. Heaccounted himself--trained as he had been under the very eye of thegreat Emperor--of some force in strategy and tactics, a player too wellversed in the game to overlook the possible moves of an opponent.

  "Ha!" he said, with the ghost of a sneer. "For instance, Monsieur leComte?"

  "The overwhelming force exists," said Samoval.

  "Where is it then? Whence has it been created? If you refer to theunited British and Portuguese troops, you will be good enough to bear inmind that they will be retreating before the Prince. They cannot at oncebe before and behind him."

  The man's cool assurance and
cooler contempt of Samoval's views stungthe Count into some sharpness.

  "Are you seeking information, sir, or are you bestowing it?" heinquired.

  "Ah! Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte. I inquire of course. I put forwardarguments to anticipate conditions that may possibly be erroneous."

  Samoval waived the point. "There is another force besides the Britishand Portuguese troops that you have left out of your calculations."

  "And that?" The major was still faintly incredulous.

  "You should remember what Wellington obviously remembers: that a Frencharmy depends for its sustenance upon the country it is invading. Thatis why Wellington is stripping the French line of penetration as bareof sustenance as this card-table. If we assume the existence of thebarrier--an impassable line of fortifications encountered within manymarches of the frontier--we may also assume that starvation will be theoverwhelming force that will cut off the French retreat."

  The other's keen eyes flickered. For a moment his face lost itsassurance, and it was Samoval's turn to smile. But the major made asharp recovery. He slowly shook his iron-grey head.

  "You have no right to assume an impassable barrier. That is aninadmissible hypothesis. There is no such thing as a line offortifications impassable to the French."

  "You will pardon me, Major, but it is yourself have no right to your ownassumptions. Again you overlook something. I will grant that technicallywhat you say is true. No fortifications can be built that cannot bedestroyed--given adequate power, with which it is yet to prove thatMassena not knowing what may await him, will be equipped.

  "But let us for a moment take so much for granted, and now considerthis: fortifications are unquestionably building in the region of TorresVedras, and Wellington guards the secret so jealously that not even theBritish--either here or in England--are aware of their nature. That iswhy the Cabinet in London takes for granted an embarkation in September.Wellington has not even taken his Government into his confidence. Thatis the sort of man he is. Now these fortifications have been buildingsince last October. Best part of eight months have already gone in theirconstruction. It may be another two or three months before the Frencharmy reaches them. I do not say that the French cannot pass them, giventime. But how long will it take the French to pull down what it willhave taken ten or eleven months to construct? And if they are unableto draw sustenance from a desolate, wasted country, what time will theyhave at their disposal? It will be with them a matter of life ordeath. Having come so far they must reach Lisbon or perish; and if thefortifications can delay them by a single month, then, granted that allLord Wellington's other dispositions have been duly carried out, perishthey must. It remains, Monsieur le Major, for you to determine whether,with all their energy, with all their genius and all their valour, theFrench can--in an ill-nourished condition--destroy in a few weeks theconsidered labour of nearly a year."

  The major was aghast. He had changed colour, and through his eyes, wideand staring, his stupefaction glared forth at them.

  Minas uttered a dry cough under cover of his hand, and screwed up hiseyeglass to regard the major more attentively. "You do not appear tohave considered all that," he said.

  "But, my dear Marquis," was the half-indignant answer, "why was Inot told all this to begin with? You represented yourself as butindifferently informed, Monsieur de Samoval. Whereas--"

  "So I am, my dear Major, as far as information goes. If I did not usethese arguments before, it was because it seemed to me an impertinenceto offer what, after all, are no more than the conclusions of my ownconstructive and deductive reasoning to one so well versed in strategyas yourself."

  The major was silenced for a moment. "I congratulate you, Count," hesaid. "Monsieur le Marechal shall have your views without delay. Tellme," he begged. "You say these fortifications lie in the region ofTorres Vedras. Can you be more precise?"

  "I think so. But again I warn you that I can tell you only what I infer.I judge they will run from the sea, somewhere near the mouth of theZizandre, in a semicircle to the Tagus, somewhere to the south ofSantarem. I know that they do not reach as far north as San, becausethe roads there are open, whereas all roads to the south, where I amassuming that the fortifications lie, are closed and closely guarded."

  "Why do you suggest a semicircle?"

  "Because that is the formation of the hills, and presumably the line ofheights would be followed."

  "Yes," the major approved slowly. "And the distance, then, would be somethirty or forty miles?"

  "Fully."

  The major's face relaxed its gravity. He even smiled. "You will agree,Count, that in a line of that extent a uniform strength is out of thequestion. It must perforce present many weak, many vulnerable, places."

  "Oh, undoubtedly."

  "Plans of these lines must be in existence."

  "Again undoubtedly. Sir Terence O'Moy will have plans in his possessionshowing their projected extent. Colonel Fletcher, who is in chargeof the construction, is in constant communication with the adjutant,himself an engineer; and--as I partly imagine, partly infer from oddphrases that I have overheard--especially entrusted by Lord Wellingtonwith the supervision of the works."

  "Two things, then, are necessary," said the major promptly. "The firstis, that the devastation of the country should be retarded, and as faras possible hindered altogether."

  "That," said Minas, "you may safely leave to myself and Souza's otherfriends, the northern noblemen who have no intention of becoming thevictims of British disinclination to pitched battles."

  "The second--and this is more difficult--is that we should obtain byhook or by crook a plan of the fortifications." And he looked directlyat Samoval.

  The Count nodded slowly, but his face expressed doubt.

  "I am quite alive to the necessity. I always have been. But--"

  "To a man of your resource and intelligence--an intelligence of whichyou have just given such very signal proof--the matter should bepossible." He paused a moment. Then: "If I understand you correctly,Monsieur de Samoval, your fortunes have suffered deeply, and you arealmost ruined by this policy of Wellington's. You are offered theopportunity of making a magnificent recovery. The Emperor is the mostgenerous paymaster in the world, and he is beyond measure impatient atthe manner in which the campaign in the Peninsula is dragging on. He hasspoken of it as an ulcer that is draining the Empire of its resources.For the man who could render him the service of disclosing the weakspot in this armour, the Achilles heel of the British, there would be areward beyond all your possible dreams. Obtain the plans, then, and--"

  He checked abruptly. The door had opened, and in a Venetian mirrorfacing him upon the wall the major caught the reflection of a Britishuniform, the stiff gold collar surmounted by a bronzed hawk face withwhich he was acquainted.

  "I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said the officer in Portuguese, "I waslooking for--"

  His voice became indistinct, so that they never knew who it was thathe had been seeking when he intruded upon their privacy. The door hadclosed again and the reflection had vanished from the mirror. But therewere beads of perspiration on the major's brow.

  "It is fortunate," he muttered breathlessly, "that my back was towardshim. I would as soon meet the devil face to face. I didn't dream he wasin Lisbon."

  "Who is he?" asked Minas.

  "Colonel Grant, the British Intelligence officer. Phew! Name of a Name!What an escape!" The major mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief."Beware of him, Monsieur de Samoval."

  He rose. He was obviously shaken by the meeting.

  "If one of you will kindly make quite sure that he is not about I thinkthat I had better go. If we should meet everything might be ruined."Then with a change of manner he stayed Samoval, who was already on hisway to the door. "We understand each other, then?" he questioned them."I have my papers, and at dawn I leave Lisbon. I shall report yourconclusions to the Prince, and in anticipation I may already offer youthe expression of his profoundest gratitude. Meanwhile, you know w
hatis to do. Opposition to the policy, and the plans of thefortifications--above all the plans."

  He shook hands with them, and having waited until Samoval assured himthat the corridor outside was clear, he took his departure, and was soonafterwards driving home, congratulating himself upon his most fortunateescape from the hawk eye of Colquhoun Grant.

  But when in the dead of that night he was awakened to find a Britishsergeant with a halbert and six redcoats with fixed bayonets surroundinghis bed it occurred to him belatedly that what one man can see in amirror is also visible to another, and that Marshal Massena, Prince ofEsslingen, waiting for information beyond Ciudad Rodrigo, wouldnever enjoy the advantages of a report of Count Samoval's masterlyconstructive and deductive reasoning.