Read Online The Man in the Green Coat by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online Page B

suspicions had reawakened. Why else should she flee before his promised return?
    He had little reason to trust her. The message throwing doubt on de la Touche's royalist credentials might serve Bonaparte’s turn whether it were true or not. And the French intelligence service could have picked up hints of the existence of Le Hibou and his own alter ego, the Man in the Green Coat.
    But he had seen with his own eyes Dr Hargreaves removing a bullet from her side. Who the devil was Madame Aurore? Would he ever see Gabrielle again?
    It should not be for want of trying, vowed Mr Everett, and sent for Baxter.
    The taciturn manservant had many talents besides those of a gentleman’s gentleman. If anyone could run to earth an elderly French widow of uncertain antecedents, then Baxter was the one.
    And still more important, the mysterious woman would never know she had been found.
    * * * *
    Some hours later, the Honourable Lucius Everett emerged from Lord Hawkesbury’s office and made his way to his own.
    His elderly secretary, a tall, thin, meek-looking man, took one glance through wire-rimmed spectacles at his grim face and asked, “They didn’t believe it, sir?”
    “They do not choose to believe it, Davis.”
    “But the message was from Le Hibou! He has always been the most reliable source we have, since before you joined the service even. His lordship was grateful enough for the information we received from Russia last month.”
    “The message purported to be from Le Hibou. I am just sufficiently uncertain of its actual provenance to argue convincingly.”
    “You were convinced last week, sir, when you returned from Dover in such a hurry.”
    “Something has happened since which I cannot but regard as a cause for suspicion. The person who brought the message out of France . . . Hush! There is someone at the door.”
    The door was flung open and a large gentleman breezed in. Taller than Mr Everett, he was not precisely stout, but rather bulky in an unhealthy manner; flabby, with the look of muscles gone to waste. His bushy eyebrows, joined in the centre in a straight line, contrasted oddly with his nearly bald head.
    “Everett, there you are!” he exclaimed jovially, if unnecessarily. “I hear you’ve been closeted with the Secretary for hours. And young Monsyer Cadoudal and the French General too. Pichegru, isn’t it? Hawkesbury been giving you a hard time, has he?”
    “I am not at liberty to discuss the matter, Sir Oswald. You must excuse me, I have a great deal of work to accomplish.”
    “Piled up while you were gone, did it? Popping in and out like Punch and Judy, off to Dover and back again, they say. Daresay if the truth were known, you were just off on a repairing lease to your country place, eh, you sly dog?”
    “Who told you that I went to Dover?”
    “Oh, I’m not complaining, mind. ‘Pon my soul, a man deserves a break now and then when he sticks as close to his last as you do, Everett. Just like Sir Cosmo. You remember my father, Davis? Always nose to the grindstone. I like to pop in now and then to see how the old man’s office is managing without him. Of course, I’ve all sorts of obligations meself—head of the family, estate to run, and so on. Matter of fact, my place ain’t so far from yours, Everett. Near Sevenoaks, isn’t it? Surprised we don’t see you in Kent more often.”
    “I spend very little time at Wrotham, Sir Oswald. Now you really must excuse me, if you please.”
    “Of course, of course,” replied the baronet testily. “I hope you will dine with me tonight? Just a small card party, you know, nothing special.”
    “Thank you, but I have promised to escort my sister tonight. Another time, perhaps. Goodbye, Sir Oswald!”
    Mr Everett and his secretary converged on the unwanted visitor and at last succeeded in forcing him to retreat through the open doorway.
    “Nosy,” said the secretary disapprovingly, closing the door with a decided click. “You didn’t know his