Evil in a Mask

The greater part of this was lost upon the Russian, because he could not understand German; but the dead body and Freda's tirade against the three Frenchmen whom he had caught escaping left him in no doubt as to what had happened.

In this situation, where their guilt was so damningly obvious, Roger had only one slender advantage. At least he could speak fairly fluent Russian, and so could communicate freely with the arbiter of their fate. When the Baroness had at last to pause for breath, he said calmly to the officer:

'Of course we killed this pig of a Prussian. And I make no pleas that we did so in self-defence. We deliberately trapped and slew him. Had you been in our situation, you would have done the same. Never have I met a monster who better deserved to die.'

The Russian gave him a puzzled look. 'So you admit to this murder? I suppose you realise that, unless you can produce some quite extraordinary justification for your deed, I shall have you hanged ?'

'Officers,' Roger declared quietly, 'are not hanged, but shot.'

'True,' nodded the other. 'And, although your epaulettes and gold braid appear to have been torn from your uniform, by your manner and speech I should have realised that you are not a common soldier. But rank does not convey licence to murder. I am the Hetman Sergius Dutoff. Who are you?'

Roger made a low bow to hide the sudden glint of hope that had sparked in his eye on learning that he had to deal, not with an ordinary, country-bred Lieutenant of Cossacks, but a Hctman—an aristocrat with whom he might have acquaintances in common. For that might just sway the balance in saving him from a firing squad. As he lifted his head, he said proudly, 'I am Colonel le Chevalier de Breuc, a Commander of the Legion of Honour, and an aide-de-camp to the Emperor Napoleon.'

'Indeed!' the Hetman exclaimed. 'Then you are a prisoner of considerable importance. Even so, this matter of Baron Znamensk's murder cannot be ignored.'

'I did not expect it to be.' Roger shrugged. 'With your permission I suggest that we go into the castle and there discuss it over a bottle of wine.'

'By St. Nicholas!' the Russian laughed. 'You are a cool customer. But your idea is sound. I could do with something to warm me up.'

The Baroness and her serfs had not understood one word of this conversation. Again she began to scream at Roger and pointed to her husband's dead body. Roger swung upon her and said sharply, 'Be silent, woman! This Russian lord demands food and wine for himself and his men. Afterwards he intends to investigate the way in which your husband met his death. And that will probably result in having me and my companions shot.'

Mollified by this, the Baroness led the way into the castle, and gave the requisite orders to her servants. Fournier and Vitu, both looking extremely worried, were detained by the Cossacks in the lofty, sparsely-furnished central hall that had for decoration on its tall walls, only a few moth-eaten stag, boar and lynx heads. The Hetman and Roger followed the Baroness into a dining room that led off it. The furniture was hideous pitchpine and the place stank of past meals, mingled with the urine of dogs.

An uncouth servitor brought a flagon of Franconian Steinwein. Then, with the Baroness as an onlooker, the two men settled down to talk. The Russian made it dear that he intended to mete out summary justice should Roger fail to convince him that he had had good grounds for taking the law into his own hands. Roger had never been more acutely aware that his life hung on his ready wits and tongue; and, that should he fail to convince the Hetman that he had executed rather than murdered Znamensk, he, Fournier and Vitu would be dead before morning.

To begin with, Roger deliberately delayed the actual inquiry for as long as he could, by asking Dutoff when he had last seen Prince Peter Ivanovitch Bagration, the German-born Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Army. Dutoff knew the General well; so, it emerged to his surprise, did Roger. He then enquired after other friends he had made during his last stay in St. Petersburg: Count Alexander Vorontzoff, die brother of the Russian Ambassador in London; Captain Musiavoff of the Semenourki Regiment of the Imperial Guard; the ex-Prime Minister Count Pahlen, in whose country house he had stayed for a month; and even the Czar Alexander himself, to whom he had been presented.

Dutoff could not fail to be impressed by learning that this haggard, down-at-heel Frenchman was persona grata with so many people of the first importance in his own country; and Roger then went on to describe the awful treatment that he and his companions had received at Znamensk's hands. But the Baroness, who had been sullenly watching with increasing anger as she saw the sympathy with which the Hetman was listening to Roger, suddenly broke in on their conversation with a spate of vitriolic German. Since she could not make herself understood in words, she pointed at Roger and significantly drew her finger across her throat.

The Russian nodded at her reassuringly, brushed up his fine moustache and said, 'Colonel, all you have been saying leaves me in no doubt that you have lived in St. Petersburg, enjoyed the friendship of many powerful nobles there, that you are both a member of the aristocracy and a very gallant soldier. Moreover, you have my deepest sympathy for the brutal ill usage to which you have been subjected. But the fact remains that only a few hours ago you and your fellow prisoners trapped the owner of this castle and inflicted on him a most painful death. For such a crime, much as I may regret it personally, I see no alternative but to have you and the other two shot.'

Roger sighed and spread out his hands in a typically French gesture. 'Should you decide that to be your duty, I'll not complain. But I pray you, consider the circumstances. Firstly, are you prepared to avow that as a private individual the Baron had any legal right to hold me, Sergeant Fournier and Corporal Vitu prisoner?'

Dutoff shook his head. 'No, none whatever. He should have turned the three of you over to the nearest Prussian or Russian military headquarters.'

'Good. And you will also agree that we had the right to escape if we could?'

'Every prisoner, of war who has not given his parole has that right; but not to commit murder as a means of regaining his freedom.'

'But the circumstances were exceptional,' Roger argued. 'This monster and his men picked us up on the battlefield the night following that ghastly conflict at Eylau. He did not go there as a patriotic Prussian, seeking to secure as many French prisoners as he could for his country before they were found and rescued by their own countrymen. He went to collect men whose wounds would not incapacitate them permanently, with the intention of detaining them here all their lives as serfs to work on his land.'

Frowning, the Herman sat back, took another swig of wine, then said angrily, 'Such conduct is inexcusable. Clearly the Baron disgraced his order as a noble. But these Teutonic Knights are far more barbarous then we Russians are said to be.'

For a moment he was silent, then he added, 'All the same, Colonel, murder is murder. Your attempt to escape was fully justified; but not the snaring and killing of this man in cold blood. Whatever cause you had to hate and fear him, nothing can excuse your having taken his life. Although I can understand little of what the Baroness here says in her outbursts, it is obvious that she is demanding justice, and it is my duty to see that she receives it. Would you prefer to be granted a respite until dawn or have me order my Sergeant to get this unpleasant business over now?'

Roger had played his best cards; his social standing with highly-placed friends in St. Petersburg, his having been made a prisoner unlawfully, his descriptions of the floggings to which he had been subjected, as fair reasons for using violence against a man who had decreed life-long slavery for him. But all to no avail.