"So? 100, 000 francs, " Lorcet said equably, as well he might, for the halved sum was still close to 50, 000 pounds, and a man could live in luxury on 200 pounds a year. "I wasn't alone when I took that gold, " Sharpe told the lawyer.
"Ask your friend, Sergeant Challon, " he jerked his head at the big man. "I was with General Calvet. You think he didn't want some of the gold? " Challon nodded confirmation, but Lorcet merely shrugged. "So you divided the treasure, " he conceded, "but you must have some left, surely?" Sharpe was silent. "I'11 hit him, Maitre, " Challon offered. "I detest violence, " the lawyer said. "Come, Major, " he pleaded with Sharpe, "you have surely not spent it all?" Sharpe sighed as though surrendering to the inevitable. "There's 40, 000 left, " he confessed, and heard Lucille's gasp of surprise. "Maybe a bit more, " he admitted grudgingly. Henri Lorcet smiled with relief for he had feared there would be nothing at the end of his long quest. "So tell me where it is, Major, " he said, "and we shall take it away and leave you in peace." It was Sharpe's turn to smile. "It's all in a Bank, Lorcet. It's in Monsieur Plaquet's bank in the rue Deauville in Caen. It's in a big iron-cornered box, locked in a stone vault behind an iron-ribbed door and Monsieur Plaquet has one key to the vault and I have the other." Sergeant Challon spat at the stove, then twisted and untwisted one of the long pigtails that framed his face. Napoleon's dragoons had all grown the braids, wearing them as a mark of pride, yet few men had kept them since the Emperor's defeat. Challon had kept his, proclaiming himself a soldier, but a soldier who evidently did not understand the strange and respectable world of banks. "He's lying, " he growled at the lawyer. "Let me knock the truth out of him." "So hit me, Sergeant, " Sharpe said, "and then tear the chateau down, and when you find nothing, what will you do then?" "I'll kill you" Challon suggested, "and take what we already have. Like this."
HE REACHED forward and took the ruby from the lawyer's hand. Sharpe nodded.
"That'll be worth a bit, " he agreed. Henri Lorcet petulantly snatched the ruby back. "But this, " he said, "is not worth 40, 000 francs." He put the stone into a pocket, then took from his small case a sheaf of papers, a pen and a bottle of ink. "You will write to this Monsieur Plaquet, " he told Sharpe, pushing the pen and paper across the table, "introducing your good friend Maitre Lorcet and saying that he is taking over the custody of the gold." "Won't work,»
Sharpe said flatly, staring at the Lawyer, "It had better work! " Lorcet snapped. Sharpe shook his head. "I've got a wife, Lorcet, " he said, "a thieving woman in England, and she stole all my money because I wrote my London banker a letter saying she could be trusted. So Monsieur Plaquet and I have an arrangement. He doesn't release any money except to me. Personally."
He tapped his chest. "Me." Lorcet glanced at Lucille who, startled, managed to nod. "It's true, " she whispered, meaning it was true that Jane Sharpe had stolen her husband's money, though whether anything else Sharpe had said was true, she did not know. "I have to go to the bank myself, " Sharpe went on, "with my key. Otherwise? Nothing." "So where is the key?" Lorcet demanded.
Sharpe glanced at a rack of keys hanging beside the kitchen door, Lorcet nodded permission, and Sharpe stood and took down a great black heavy key that looked as old as time, and Lucille at last began to understand that he was playing a game, for the key opened no vault in Caen, but instead unlocked the chateau's chapel. Sharpe tossed the key to the lawyer. "You get me and that key to Caen, Lorcet, " he said, "and you get your money." "How far is it to Caen?" Lorcet asked. "Three hours by cart, " Sharpe said, "and I'll have to take the cart, because 40, 000 francs in gold weigh more than a ton. An hour to load the money, then three and a half hours back? Longer if it snows." "Then pray it does not snow, " Lorcet said, "for if you are not back by nightfall I shall assume you have betrayed us, and I shall let Sergeant Challon deal with your family. I shall regret that, Major." He laid the key on the table.
"Corporal Lebecque will accompany you with two men. If you attempt to summon help, Major, the Corporal will kill you. But do as I ask, and you will all survive the day." He smiled. "Though, admittedly, you will be somewhat poorer." Sharpe picked up the key, then pulled on his greatcoat and hat. "I'll be back here before nightfall, " he promised the lawyer, then stooped to kiss Lucille and his son. She clutched at him. «Richard!» He eased her fingers from his coat collar. "Look after Patrick, love, " he said, then kissed her again.
CORPORAL Lebecque and his men helped Sharpe harness the two horses. One of the two men claimed he could drive, and so Lebecque ordered Sharpe to join him in the back of the cart, where the corporal lifted the skirts of his heavy coat to reveal a pistol. "I should have shot you in Naples, " Lebecque said. "You were with Ducos when I came for the gold?" Sharpe asked. "I don't remember you." "I remember you, " Lebecque said, then he shouted for the gate to be opened and the driver cracked the whip so that the heavy cart jolted forward.
THE first snow began to fall in big, loose flakes that melted as soon as they touched the road. The cart lurched from side to side, for one of the horses was a big plough horse while the other, much smaller had been an offside leader on a French gun team and Sharpe had deliberately harnessed it on the wrong side. The horse would hate being on the nearside, and Sharpe knew it would pull like a pig. "You have to rein in the big horse, " Sharpe told the driver. "I know how to drive, " the man said, and the cart lurched again, almost throwing Lebecque clear across the cart. "Rein it in, " Sharpe said, "and let the little one set the pace." "Shut your face, " the man said, then cracked the whip again and the big horse jerked forward, the small one swerved, and Lebecque and the other guard held on tight as the cart jolted up over the road's central ridge.
«Bastards!» The driver swore at the horses and lashed down with the whip, and the old gun horse shoved at the plough horse and the cart pitched again like a storm-tossed boat. "I" m telling you! " Sharpe shouted, "let the little horse lead! " Lebecque swore as the cart bumped down again into the ruts. «Stop!» he shouted, and the driver obediently hauled on the curb reins «You,» Lebecque pointed at Sharpe, "you drive. And I'll be beside you with this." He lifted his coat to show Sharpe the big pistol again. Sharpe obediently climbed onto the box. Lebecque joined him there, while the two other men settled in the back. Those two men were also armed with pistols, but Sharpe had them where he wanted them, just as he was where he wanted to be. He had escaped the farm, he was ready to fight back. He clicked his tongue, curbed the plough horse's speed, and let the cart climb the steady slope to the village. The snow was fitful and light, whirling in the black branches, but the sky was ominously dark and Sharpe reckoned blizzard was coming. He knew that a heavy fall of snow would never let him reach Caen and back in a day, but nor did he have any intention of going to Caen, for Monsieur Plaquet did not exist, nor was there any great iron-bound chest in a stone vault on the Rue Deauville. There was just a woman and a child to rescue. Shawled women were hurrying along the village street to the Christmas Eve mass in the little church. Sharpe nodded to one or two, then saw Jacques Malan standing in the doorway of the tavern.
The big man, who hated Sharpe because he was English, had just been going into the inn when he saw Sharpe appear, but he waited in the cold long enough to spit into the roadway as Sharpe passed.