I dare say that I had already read my uncle’s
letter a hundred times, and I am sure that I knew
it by heart. None the less I took it out of
my pocket, and, sitting on the side of the lugger,
I went over it again with as much attention as if
it were for the first time. It was written in
a prim, angular hand, such as one might expect from
a man who had begun life as a village attorney, and
it was addressed to Louis de Laval, to the care of
William Hargreaves, of the Green Man in Ashford, Kent.
The landlord had many a hogshead of untaxed French
brandy from the Normandy coast, and the letter had
found its way by the same hands.
‘My dear nephew Louis,’ said the letter,
’now that your father is dead, and that you
are alone in the world, I am sure that you will not
wish to carry on the feud which has existed between
the two halves of the family. At the time of
the troubles your father was drawn towards the side
of the King, and I towards that of the people, and
it ended, as you know, by his having to fly from the
country, and by my becoming the possessor of the estates
of Grosbois. No doubt it is very hard that you
should find yourself in a different position to your
ancestors, but I am sure that you would rather that
the land should be held by a Bernac than by a stranger.
From the brother of your mother you will at least
always meet with sympathy and consideration.
’And now I have some advice for you. You
know that I have always been a Republican, but it
has become evident to me that there is no use in fighting
against fate, and that Napoleon’s power is far
too great to be shaken. This being so, I have
tried to serve him, for it is well to howl when you
are among wolves. I have been able to do so much
for him that he has become my very good friend, so
that I may ask him what I like in return. He
is now, as you are probably aware, with the army at
Boulogne, within a few miles of Grosbois. If
you will come over at once he will certainly forget
the hostility of your father in consideration of the
services of your uncle. It is true that your
name is still proscribed, but my influence with the
Emperor will set that matter right. Come to
me, then, come at once, and come with confidence.
’Your
uncle,
‘C.
Bernac.’
So much for the letter, but it was the outside which
had puzzled me most. A seal of red wax had been
affixed at either end, and my uncle had apparently
used his thumb as a signet. One could see the
little rippling edges of a coarse skin imprinted upon
the wax. And then above one of the seals there
was written in English the two words, ’Don’t
come.’ It was hastily scrawled, and whether
by a man or a woman it was impossible to say; but
there it stared me in the face, that sinister addition
to an invitation.
