'Citizen Bruix,' the Corporal said heavily, 'is the admiral who commands the invasion flotilla - all the barges and gunboats and sloops and frigates that will carry the Army of England to - well, to England, of course. And he is stationed here in Boulogne, where he can keep an eye on things, and hurry your fellows along with your saws and adzes and planes - yes, and your hammers and nails, too.'
He paused dramatically, like an actor reaching the really dramatic speech in his act. 'Well, once a week Citizen Bruix reports to the First Consul on the progress being made at Boulogne in building the invasion flotilla - yes, and at the other ports along this coast that are privileged to build the ships for the Great Invasion. Every Friday night, as soon as all the returns are in from the shipyards, Citizen Bruix sits down in his house - it is the great white house at Pont-de-Briques, just before you enter the town, you must have passed it - and draws up his report with great care. Then can you guess what happens?'
Ramage shook his head dumbly, hoping that the Corporal would not get tired of perching on the stairs on his one good leg before he had finished his revealing story.
'Ah - well, he seals it up and calls for his messenger. Not an ordinary messenger, though; this man is a highly trusted officer, a lieutenant-de-vaisseau, no less, attached to Citizen Bruix's staff. The officer produces his special leather bag, Citizen Bruix puts his report inside, and then he locks the bag with a special key - a key which never leaves Citizen Bruix's possession - and then the lieutenant leaves for Paris before dawn next morning.'
'How do they open the bag in Paris?' Ramage asked innocently.
'With the duplicate,' the Corporal snorted contemptuously. 'That's the point, the duplicate key is kept at the First Consul's headquarters. No matter where in the world he is,' the Corporal said grandly, 'the duplicate key is always with him, ready to open the bag of dispatches from Citizen Bruix's headquarters.'
Ramage nodded his head wonderingly. 'The secret of success is careful preparation,' he said sententiously. 'I always tell my men, measure the wood carefully before you begin to saw, and then you -'
'Quite, quite,' the Corporal interrupted impatiently. 'Well, the lieutenant leaves immediately for Paris on horseback - note that; no comfortable, slow coach, as in the days of the ancien régime, but a galloping horse. For speed, you understand; so that the First Consul shall always know exactly what is going on all over the Empire.
'Off he gallops, whatever the weather, and he rides like the wind until it is too dark to proceed - the First Consul expects the report to be waiting on his desk first thing on Monday morning,' the Corporal explained, oblivious to the contradiction of the timing implied. 'In fact, the lieutenant usually manages to reach Amiens, and that's where my brother has his inn. A very comfortable establishment, you understand; one well equipped to attend to the wants of Citizen Bruix's special messenger.
'The lieutenant stays that night, dines well after such a ride, sleeps in his special room and at dawn he is off again. By nightfall he is in Paris with the report. So you can see why I know,' he added proudly. 'About the Invasion, I mean.'
'Indeed I do,' Ramage said, awe in his voice.
'Ah well, you will be wanting to get to bed.' With that he stumped up the two remaining stairs, led the way along a short corridor and opened a door. He handed the candle to Ramage and stood back to let him pass. 'I could tell some stories,' the Corporal said wistfully, 'but you'll be tired.'
'Oh no,' Ramage said eagerly. 'These men of mine are sleepy, and they can go to bed; but me - I would like the chance of talking with a man of affairs like yourself, and I have a few francs left to buy the wine.'
The Corporal winked and stumped back along the corridor. 'I'll see you downstairs then,' he called back over his shoulder. 'And tell your men not to worry about the English; they can sleep soundly in their beds. My brother already has plans to open an inn at Dover - how about that, eh?'
As soon as they were all in the room and the door was shut, Jackson whispered: 'I couldn't follow any of that, sir, but from the way you was listening it sounded as though it was useful.'
'It was,' Ramage said cheerfully, 'and there's more to come. I'm going downstairs to drink with him for an hour or two. You had better get some sleep, just in case we have to prowl around tomorrow night. Before you turn in just make sure you can hold the tools properly -' he gestured at the canvas bags Rossi and Stafford had just put down by the foot of one of the beds. 'Try and look like professional carpenters — without cutting yourselves ...'
He eyed the two large beds. 'I seem to remember you snore, Rossi. What about you, Stafford?'
The Cockney shook his head sadly. 'Me too, sir. Jacko doesn't - you'd best share a bed wiv 'im, and I'll doss wiv Rossi.'
'Very well,' Ramage said, and took the passports and travel documents from his pocket. 'You'd better look after these,' he said, handing them to Jackson. 'Who knows, I might get as drunk as that fellow stretched out on the chairs.'
The American grinned. 'That'll be the day, sir. You all right for money?'
Ramage took ten francs from the handful in his pocket and gave the rest to Jackson. 'You might as well look after these, just in case.'
He sat down on the bed for a few minutes. A ghost of an idea had appeared while the Corporal was telling the story of the lieutenant-de-vaisseau's overnight stay in Amiens. And 'ghost', he reflected, was the right description: the more he thought about it, the more he saw it had precious little shape or substance. Well, there was time enough for him to look closer...
He found the Corporal waiting behind the bar, a bottle in one hand and the corkscrew ready in the other. 'Ah,' he began turning the corkscrew as soon as he saw Ramage, 'you can tell me if you have a red wine the like of this in Italy.'
'I'll be glad to,' Ramage said eagerly; so eagerly that the Corporal hastened to make it clear that Ramage was paying for it. 'It's not expensive, though, and you'll enjoy it!'
The bottle had gone and been replaced by another (the Corporal making sure that each bottle was paid for as soon as it was uncorked) before Ramage could get him back to the subject of his brother at Amiens, a man for whom the Corporal combined envy with pride.
'He has a fine position, right by the crossroads, Paris ahead, Rouen to the right, Arras to the left. That's the secret of a profitable inn, of course; you have to be where the traveller can find you. Great mistake I made, settling here. I was relying on the local people for custom but -' he glowered at the half dozen men still playing dominoes at the table, two empty bottles and one half-full representing the entire evening's drinking for six men, 'well, you can see; they talk like wine cellars about how much they need, but half a bottle each sees them through the evening.
'My brother, though: there he is, on the main post road to Paris, tactically placed —' he cocked his head a moment, as though the word brought back memories of a more martial life, 'yes, strategically placed for the travellers to Paris. Travellers have the money to spend. Generals are the best - at least six staff officers with them, and a dozen soldiers. Forage for the horses, a big dinner and an early breakfast and they're away, so you can get their rooms tidied up in good time for fresh guests.
'Ah, my brother knew what he was doing when he took over the Hotel de la Poste. He was telling me his plans for after the Invasion of England. He thinks he'll open his first place at Dover - after the travellers' trade again, of course. He's not sure from the map which is the most popular route to London, though. One road goes through - Canterbury, I think he said - and the other through Ashford. He'll wait and see which the Army favours and take over the best hotel at one or the other place. London - ah, he has big plans for London. The headquarters staff, that's who he has his eyes on in London.'