Speaker 1: A Foreign Office Romance by Arthur Conan Doyle. There are
many folk anew Alfonse Laqueur in his old age, from
about the time of the Revolution of forty eight until
he died in the second year of the Crimean War,
he was always to be found in the same corner
of the Cafe de Provence at the end of the
Rue Saint Rorey, coming down about nine in the evening,
and going when he could find no one to talk with.
It took some self restraint to listen to the old diplomatist,
for his stories were beyond all belief, and yet he
was quick at detecting the shadow of a smile or
the slightest little raising of the eyebrows. Then his huge
rounded back would straighten itself, his bulldog chin would project,
and his ars would bur like a kettle drum. When
he got as far as ah monsieur rite er vulnem
mikroie pabunc, it was quite time to remember that you
had a ticket for the opera. There was his story
of Talleyrand and the Five oyster shells, and there was
his utterly absurd account of Napoleon's second visit to a Jacquio.
Then there was that most circumstantial romance, which he never
ventured upon until his second bottle had been on cork
of the Emperor's escape from Saint Helena. How he lived
for a whole year in Philadelphia, while Count Ebert de Berkhan,
who was his living image, personated him at Longwood. But
of all his stories there was none which was more
notorious than that of the Koran and the Foreign Office Messenger.
And yet when Monsieur Otto's memoirs were written, it was
found that there really was some foundation for old Lequeur's
incredible statement. You must know, Monsieur. He would say that
I left Egypt after Clabert's assassination. I would gladly have
stayed on, for I was engaged in a translation of
the Koran, and between ourselves, I had thoughts at the
time of embracing Mahometanism, for I was deeply struck by
the wisdom of their views about marriage. They had made
an incredible mistake, however, upon the subject of wine, and
this was what the Mufti who attempted to convert me,
could never get over. Then, when Old Clabert died and
Menu came to the top, I felt that it was
time for me to go. It's not for me to
speak of my own capabilities, Monsieur, but you will really
understand that the man does not care to be ridden
by the mule. I carried my koren and my papers
to London, where Monsieur Otto had been sent by the
First Council to arrange a treaty of peace, for both
nations were very weary of the war, which had already
lasted ten years. Here I was most useful to Monsieur
Otto an account of my knowledge of English tongue, and also,
if I may say so, on account of my natural capacity.
They were happy days during which I lived in the
square of Bloomsbergy. The climate of Monsieur's country, as it
must be confessed, detestable. But then what would you have.
Flowers grow best in the rain. One has but to
point to the Monsieur's fellow country women to prove it well.
Monsieur Ratto, our ambassador, was kept terribly busy over that treaty,
and all of his staff were worked to death. We
had not Pitt to deal with, which was perhaps as
well for us. He was a terrible man, that Pitt.
And wherever half a dozen enemies of France were plotting together.
There was a sharp pointed nose right in the middle
of them. The nation, however, had been thoughtful enough to
put him out of office, and we had to do
with Monsieur Addington. But my Lord Hawkesbury was the Foreign Minister,
and it was with him that we were obliged to
do our bargaining. You can understand that it was no
child's play. After ten years of war, each nation had
got hold of a great deal which had belonged to
the other or to the other's allies. What was to
be given back and what was to be kept? Is
this island worth that peninsula? If we do this at Venice,
will you do that at Sierra Leone? If we give
up Egypt to the Sultan? Will you restore the cape
of good Hope which you have taken from our allies,
the Dutch. So we wrangled and wrestled, and I have
seen Monsieur Otto come back to the embassy so exhausted
that his secretary and I had to help him from
carriage to his sofa. But at last things adjusted themselves,
and the night came round when the treaty was to
be finally signed. Now you must know that one great
card which we held, the one great card, and which
we played, played, played at every point of the game,
was that we had Egypt. The English were very nervous
about our being there. It gave us a foot on
each end of the Mediterranean, you say, and they were
not sure that that wonderful little Napoleon of ours might
not make it the base of an advance against India.
So whenever Lord Hawkesbury proposed to retain anything, we had
only to reply, in that case, of course, we cannot
consent to evacuate Egypt. And in this way we quickly
brought him to reason. It was by the help of
Egypt that we gained terms that were remarkably favorable, and
especially that we caused the English to consent to give
up the Cape of Good Hope. We did not wish
your people, monsieur, to have any foothold in South Africa.
For history has taught us that the British foothold of
one half century is the British Empire the net. It
is not your army or your navy against which we
have to guard, but it is your terrible younger son
and your man in search of a career, When we
friends have at possession across the seas. We like to
sit in Paris and to felicitate ourselves upon it. With you,
it is different. You take your wives and your children,
and you run away to see what kind of a
place this may be. And after that we might as
well try to take that old square of Bloomsbury away
from you. But well, it was upon the first of
October that the treaty was finally to be signed. In
the morning I was congratulating monsieur Otto upon the happy
conclusion of his labors. He was a little pale shrimp
of a man, very quick and nervous, and he was
so delighted now at his own success that he could
not sit still, but ran about the room, chattering and laughing,
while I sat on a cushion in the corner, as
I had learned to do in the East. Suddenly in
came a messenger with a letter which had been forwarded
from Paris. Monsieur Otto cast his eyes upon it, and then,
without a word, his knees gave way, and he fell
senseless upon the floor. I ran to him, as did
the courier, and between us we carried him to the sofa.
He might have been dead from his appearance, but I
could steal Phila's heart thrilling beneath my palm. What is this, then,
I asked, I I do not know, answered the messenger.
Monsieur Talian told me to hurry as never man hurried before,
and to put this letter into the hands of Monsieur Otto.
I was in Paris at mid day yesterday. I know
that I am to blame, but I could not help
glancing at the letter, picking it out of the senseless
hand of Monsieur Otto. My god, the thunderbolt that it was,
I did not faint, but I sat down beside my
chief and I burst into tears. It was but a
few words, but they told us that Egypt had been
evacuated by our troops a month before. All our treaty
was undone. Then in the one consideration which had induced
our enemies to give us good terms and vanished in
twelve hours, it would not have mattered. But now the
treaty was not yet signed. We should have to give
up the cape. We should have to let England have Malta.
Now that Egypt was gone. We had nothing to offer
in exchange. Ah, But we are not so easily beaten
we frenchmen. You English misjudge us when you think that
because we show emotions which you conceal, that we are
therefore of a weak and womanly nature. You cannot read
your histories and believe that. Monsieur Otto recovered his sense presently,
and we took counsel. What we should do? It is
useless to go on, Alphonse said, he this Englishman will
laugh at me when I ask him to sign courage,
I cried, and then a sudden thought came into my head.
How do we know that the English will have news
of this? Perhaps they may sign the treaty before they
know of it. Monsieur Otto sprang from the sofa and
flung himself into my arms. Del Fonse, he cried, you
have saved me. Why should they know about it? Our
news has come from Toulon to Paris and then straight
to London. Theirs will come by sea through the straits
of Gibral. At this moment it is unlikely that anyone
in Paris knows of it, save only Talyland on the
First Council. If we keep our secret, we may still
get our treaty sign ah, Monsieur, you can imagine the
horrible uncertainty in which we spent the day. Never, never
shall I forget those slow hours during which we sat together,
starting at every distant shout, lest it should be the
first sign of the rejoicing which this news would cause.
In London, Monsieur Otto passed from youth to age in
a day. As for me, I find it easier to
go out and meet danger than to wait for it.
I set forth Therefore, toward evening I wandered here and
wandered there. I was in the fencing rooms of Monsieur Angelo,
and in the cell on the box of Monsieur Jackson,
and in the club of Brooks, and in the lobby
of the Chamber of Deputies. But nowhere did I hear
any news. Still, it was possible that my Lord Hawkesbury
had received it himself, just as we had. He lived
in Harley Street, and there it was that the treaty
was to be finally signed. That night, at eight I
entreated Monsieur to drink two glasses of Burgundy before he went,
for I feared lest his haggard face and trembling hands
should arouse suspicion in the English minister. Well, we went
round together in one of the embassy's carriages. About half
past seven, Monsieur Otto went in alone, but presently on
excuse of getting his portfolio. He came out again, with
his cheeks flushed with joy, to tell me that all
was well. He knows nothing, he whispered. Ah, if the
next half hour were over, give me a sign when
it is settled, said I. For what reason? Because until
then no messenger shall interrupt you. I give you my promise.
I alphonse la caire. He clasped my hands in both
of his. I shall make an excuse to move one
of the candles on to the table in the window,
said he, and hurried into the house, whilst I was
left waiting beside the carriage. Well, if we could but
secure ourselves from interruption for a single half hour, the
day would be our own. I had hardly begun to
form my plans when I saw the lights of a
carriage coming swiftly from the direction of Oxford STREETA. Oh,
if it should be the messenger, what could I do?
I was prepared to kill him, Yes, even to kill him,
rather than at this last moment allow our work to
be Undone thousands die to make a glorious war Why
should not one die to make a glorious peace? What
though they hurried me to the scaffold, I should have
sacrificed myself in my country. I had a little curved
turkish knife strapped to my waist. My hand was on
the hilt of it. When the carriage which had alarmed
me so rattled safely past me. But another might come.
I must be prepared, above all, I must not compromise
the embassy. I ordered our carriage to move on, and
I engaged what you call a Hackney coach. Then I
spoke to the driver and gave him a guinea. He
understood that it was a special service. You shall have
another guinea if you do what you are told, said I.
Oh art Master, said he, and turned his slow eyes
upon me, without a trace of excitement of curiosity. If
I enter your coach with another gin, you will drive
up and down Harley Street and take no orders from
any one but me. When I get out, you will
carry the other gentleman to Wakyer's Club in Bruton Street.
Or Master, said he again. So I stood outside my
Lord Hawkesbury's house, and you can think how often my
eyes went up to that window in the help of
seeing the candle twinkle in it. Five minutes passed and
another five. Oh, how slowly they crept along. It was
a true October night, raw and cold, with a white
fog crawling over the wet, shining cobblestones and blurring the
dim oil lamps. I could not see fifty paces in
either direction, but my ears were straining, straining to catch
the rattle of hoofs or the rumble of wheels. It's
not a cheering place, monsieur, this street of Harley, even
upon a sunny day. The houses are solid and very
respectable over yonder, but there is nothing of the feminine
about them. It's a city to be inhabited by males.
But on that raw night, amid the damp and the fog,
with the anxiety gnawing at my heart, it seemed the saddest,
weariest spot in the whole wide world. I paced up
and down, slapping my hands to keep them warm, and
still straining my ears. And then suddenly, out of the
dull hum of the traffic down in Oxford Street, I
heard a sound detach itself and grow louder and louder,
and clearer and clearer with every instant until two yellow
lights came flashing through the fog, and a light cabriolet
whirled up to the door of the Foreign Minister. It
had not stopped before a young fellow sprang out of
it and hurried to the steps, while the driver turned
his horse and rattled off into the fog once more. Ah,
it is in the moment of action that I am best, Monsieur. You,
who only see me when I am drinking my wine
in the Cafe de Pravens, cannot conceive the heights to
which I rise. At that moment, when I knew that
the fruit of a ten years wore at stake, I
was magnificent. It was the last French campaign, and I
the general and army in one Sir, said I, touching
him upon the arm Are you the messenger fort Hawksberry, Yes,
said he, I've been waiting for you half an hour.
You to follow me at once. He is with the
French ambassador. I spoke with such assurance that he never
hesitated for an instant When he entered the Hackney coach
and I followed him in my heart gave such a
thrill of joy that I could hardly keep from shouting aloud.
He was a poor little creature, this Foreign Office messenger
not much bigger than Monsieur Ratteau. And I, Monsieur can
see my hands now and imagine what they were like
when I was seven and twenty years of age. Well,
now that I had him in my coach, the question
was what I should do with him. I did not
wish to hurt him if I could help it. This
is pressing business, said he. I have a dispatch which
I must deliver instantly. Our coach had rattled down Harley Street,
but now in accordance with my instruction, had turned and
began to go up again. Hello, Hello, he cried, what's this? What? Then?
I asked, we are driving back. Where is Lord Hawkesbury?
We shall see him presently. Let me out, Let me out,
he shouted, There some trickery in this coachman stopped the coach.
Let me out, I say, I dashed him back into
his seat. As he tried to turn the handle of
the door, he roared for help. I clapped my palm
across his mouth. He made his teeth meet through the
side of it. I seized his own cravat and bounded
over his lips. He still mumbled and gurgled, but the
noise was covered by the rattle of our wheels. We
were passing the minister's house, and there was no candle
in the window. The messenger sat quiet for a little
and I could see the glint of his eyes as
he stared at me through the gloom. He was partly stunned,
I think, by the force with which I had hurled
him into his seat, and also he was pondering, perhaps
what he should do next. Presently he got his mouth
partly free from the cravat. You can have my watch
and my purse if you will let me go, said he.
Sir said, I I am as honorable a man as
you are yourself. Who are you? Then? My name is
of no importance? What do you What do you want
with me? It? It is a bet, a bet? But
what do you mean? And you understand that I'm on
the government service and that you will see the inside
of jail, for there that is the bet. That is
the sport, said I. You will find a poor sport
before you finish. He cried, what is this insane bet
of yours? Then I have bet, I answered that I
will recite a chapter of the Koran to the first
gentleman whom I should meet in the street. Well, I
don't know what what would me think of it? Save
that my translation was always running in my head. He
clutched at the door handle, and again I had to
hurl him back into his seat. How long will it take,
he gasped. It depends on the chapter, I answered, A
short one, then, and let me go. But is it fair?
I argued. When I say a chapter, I do not
mean the shortest chapter, but rather one which should be
of average length. Help, help, help, he squealed, and I
was compelled again to adjust his cravat. A little patient,
said I, and will soon be over. I should like
to recite the chapter which would be of most interest
to yourself. Will confess that I am trying to make
things as pleasant as I can for you. He slipped
his mouth free again, quick, then quick he groaned up
the chapter of a camel, I suggested, Oh yes, yes,
or that of the fleet's Stagion, Oh yes, yes, only proceed.
We had passed the window and there was no candle.
I settled down to recite the chapter of the Stagion
to him. Perhaps you do not know you Koren? Very well, monsieur, well,
I knew it by heart then, as I know it
by heart now. The style is a little exasperating for
anyone who is in a hurry, But then what would
you have. The people in the east are never in
a hurry, and it was written for them. I repeated
it all with the dignity and solemnity which a sacred
book demands. And the young Englishman he wriggled and groaned.
When the horses, standing on three feet and placing the
tip of their fourth foot upon the ground, were mustered
in front of him in the evening, he said, I
have loved the love of earthly good above the remembrance
of things on high, and have spent the time in
viewing these horses. Bring the horses back to me. And
when they were brought back, he began to cut off
their legs. It was at this moment that the young
Englishman sprang at me, My God, how little can I
remember the next few minutes. He was a boxer, this
shred of a man he had been trained to strike.
I tried to catch him by the hands back pack.
He came upon my nose and upon my eye. I
put down my head and thrust at him with it.
Pack he came from below, But ha I was too
much for him. I hurled myself upon him, and he
had no place where he could escape from my weight.
He fell flat upon the cushions, and I seated myself
upon him with such conviction that the wind flew from
him as from a burst bellows. Then I searched to
see what there was with which I could tie him.
I drew the strings from my shoes, and with one
I secured his wrists, and with another his ankles. Then
I tied the clovat round his mouth again, so that
he could only lie and glare at me. When I
had done all this, and it stopped the bleeding of
my own nose, I looked out of the couch, and, Ah, monsieur,
the very first thing that caught my eyes was that candle,
that dear little candle, glimmering in the window of the minister.
Alone with these two hands, I had retrieved the capitulation
of an army and the loss of a province. Yes, monsieur,
what Abercrombie and five thousand men had done upon the
beach of Abukuire was undone by me, single handed. In
a Hackney coach in Harley Street, well, of course, I
had no time to lose, for at any moment Monsieur
Otto might be down. I shouted to my driver, gave
him his second guinea, and allowed him to proceed to Watier's.
For myself. I sprang into our embassy carriage, and a
moment later the door of the minister opened. He had
himself escorted Monsieur Otto downstairs, and now so deep was
he in talk that he walked out, bareheaded, as far
as the carriage. As I stood there by the open door,
there came the rattle of wheels, and a man rushed
down the pavement, a dispatch of great importance from Alorrd Hawksberry.
He cried, I could see that it was not my messenger,
but a second one. Lord Hawkesbury caught the paper from
his hand and read it by the light of the
carriage lamp. His face Monsieur was as white as this plate.
Before he had finished, Monsieur Ratto, he cried, we have
signed this treaty upon a false understanding. Egypt is in
our hands. What what cried Monsieur otter m poseubrus. It
is certain it fell to Abercrombie last month. In that case,
said Monsieur Ratto. It is very fortunate that the treaty
is signed. Very fortunate for you, sir, cried my Lord Hawkesberry,
and he turned back to the house. Next day, Monsieur
what they call the Bow Street runners were after me,
but they could not run across salt water, and Alphonse
Laqueur was receiving the congratulations of Monsieur Talleyrand and the
First Council. Before ever his pursuers had got as far
as Dover, and of a Foreign Office romance by Arthur
Conan Doyle