The more he thought about the circumstances of his arrest the more shocked he became at the Prime Minister's action. He had broken no law, yet here he was as good as in a dungeon. Since he had not been charged with any crime he was denied the right to a trial at which he might defend himself. Still worse he was being held incommunicado, so he could not write to friends asking their help to secure his release, or even to Mr. Pitt asking for an explanation. He had been picked up without warning, incarcerated in a fortress from which he knew it was impossible to escape and orders had been given to keep him there during His Majesty's—or what amounted to Mr. Pitt's—pleasure.
And this was England. The boasted Land of the Free. Not France in the days of the absolute monarchy when, at the whim of a King's mistress, her Royal lover signed a lettre de cachet consigning indefinitely to the Bastille some wretched scribbler who had lampooned her. But that was precisely what had happened to him.
It was said that at times such unfortunates had been forgotten and left for years in prison until they died there. But Roger endeavoured to console himself with the thought that such a fate was most unlikely to be his. It seemed reasonable to assume that Mr. Pitt had simply taken prompt action to prevent any possibility of his leaving London in a ship that was sailing on the night tide. Having insured against that the Prime Minister must think again, and produce either a bribe or a threat which might deter him from carrying out his intention of returning to France.
For a while Roger speculated on what form Mr. Pitt's approach would take, but his treatment of him and the aspersion on his loyalty made him more than ever determined to return lo Bonaparte's service.
At seven o'clock a supper of cold meat and apple tart, with a bottle of passable wine, was brought to him and, not long after he had finished his meal, his valise arrived. Having unpacked it he was glad to find that it contained a book he had been reading: so he went to bed and read until close on ten, then he snuffed out the candles. For a while he mused on the extraordinary situation he was in, but he was no longer particularly troubled by it as he felt confident that Mr. Pitt would send for him next day; so he soon fell into a sound sleep.
But Mr. Pitt did not send for him next day, nor the next, nor the next, and gradually his anxiety about what the future held for him increased. His routine each day never varied. Every morning he was taken out for an hour's exercise and for the rest of the day he remained locked in his room. The meals brought up to him were plentiful but plain, so he thought it probable that the Governor fared much better at his own table. Moreover the food lost much of its attraction from the fact that, having to be carried a long way from the kitchen, it was nearly always no more than luke-warm when it reached him; but the Governor sent him half a dozen books, for which he was duly grateful.
Several times he attempted to start a conversation with his gaolers, but they obeyed their orders in refusing to reply to him. In vain he racked his brains for a way in which he could communicate with the outside world. From the narrow, barred window of his room he could look down on the Pool of London. In it there lay scores of tall-masted ships, any one of which might have carried him to freedom, but he was as remote from them as though he were standing on the Moon; and, even if he had had writing materials, an appeal for help dropped out of the window would only have fluttered down inside the outer wall of the fortress.
Another three days dragged by. In vain now he endeavoured to concentrate on reading. For hours he restlessly paced his chamber cursing Pitt and vowing that he would get even with him. There were other long periods when he tossed restlessly on the bed endeavouring to gain freedom in sleep from his tormenting anxiety. Sometimes he dropped off for an hour or two, but that made it more difficult for him to get to sleep at night. And he found the long dark evenings almost insupportable. The shadows of the big gloomy chamber seemed to close round him making a prison within a prison and emphasizing his utter isolation. Mr. Pitt, he knew, had a thousand matters to engage his attention; so it now seemed to Roger quite on the cards that by this time the Prime Minister had forgotten him. If so it might even be many months before the thought would recur to him that on an impulse he had had his once most trusted secret agent arrested. Meanwhile Roger must continue to fret away the seemingly endless hours pacing up and down between the stone walls; for there was no way in which he could bring an end to his captivity.
He had been confined in the Tower for exactly a week when, now to his surprise and sudden resurgence of hope, the Mayor sent for him. Fighting down his excitement he followed the Beefeater Sergeant, with his swinging lantern and bunch of big keys, down to the Mayor's office. In it were the Captain and his Ensign who had arrested Roger. Colonel Smith greeted him pleasantly and said with a smile:
'Mr. Brook, these two gentlemen have brought me an order for your release. ‘I hope that it may prove a permanent one. But you must consider yourself as still under arrest while they escort you to the Prime Minister, who has asked that you should be brought to him.'
Roger smiled, ‘I thank you, sir, for your good wishes, and for your fair treatment of me while I have been your prisoner. I hope that when next we meet it will be in happier circumstances.'
Five minutes later he was in the same coach that had brought him to the Tower, sitting facing the two officers. The blinds were again down so he saw nothing of the darkening streets through which they passed until the coach pulled up outside 10 Downing Street. They were admitted to the house and, after standing silent in the waiting room for some ten minutes, the Groom of the Chambers came to them. Bowing, he asked Roger to follow him, and requested his escort to remain there in attendance. With a firm step and a smile that had no trace of humour in it, Roger accompanied the servant upstairs. He was shown in to Mr. Pitt and the door closed behind him.
Giving him a nod of greeting that lacked any suggestion of cordiality, the Prime Minister indicated that he should take a chair. Instead Roger remained standing in front of the desk and said coldly, 'While I continue to be your prisoner, sir, it is more fitting that I should listen to what you have to say as would a convicted criminal in the dock before a judge.'
Mr. Pitt made an impatient gesture, 'So you are as stiff-necked as ever, and have failed to learn the lesson that I hoped a week in the Tower would teach you.'
'Oh, I've learnt it, and full well,' Roger flared, his dark blue eyes now nearly black with rage. 'It is that Charles Fox, whom I have long regarded as near a traitor, from his advocacy of revolutionary ideas, is in truth far from that and a true champion of Liberty. Whereas you, under the guise of patriotism, have taken on yourself the mantle of a tyrant. Your treatment of me has not differed in the least from that of King Louis XV when he had pcrsons who were obnoxious to him flung into the Bastille without trial, justice or thought of mercy. How dare you behave towards a freeborn Englishman in such a manner! Your conduct is an outrage and. Prime Minister though you be, I'll have the law upon you for it.'
The Prime Minister's grey tired face remained unmoved and he gave a slight shrug of his narrow shoulders, as he said, 'About any such intention, Mr. Brook, I must disabuse your hopes. Having been so long abroad you may not have heard how His Majesty's coach was stoned while on its way to Parliament, of the riots in Bristol, Norwich and other cities during which the mobs were incited to seize private property, or that twenty thousand Londoners congregated not long since at Islington to demand the abolition of the Monarchy and the establishment of a Republic here. To suppress such grievous disorders I was compelled to lake strong measures. They included arrest without warrant, the suspension of Habeas Corpus and confinement in prison during His Majesty's pleasure. So I was entirely within my rights when ordering your detention.'