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certainly will never know what became of the scepter, I’ll put ten sous on that,” he declared.
    “All the more reason to keep him working,” said Bessieres, enjoying his speculation. “If he flees, then we pursue him.”
    Berthier was driven to exclaim, “I don’t understand you! This Vernet is very likely a killer! He has stolen treasure from Napoleon himself. How can we let him roam free? We must confine him. If you will not convene a court-martial, then at least put him in chains.”
    “But why should we do that?” asked Desaix. “He will not tell us where the scepter is from a cell.” His youthful features showed sympathy. “He isn’t a monster, is he?”
    “A killer,” Berthier insisted.
    “Well, you have no proof of this and so are many of my officers,” Napoleon said. “That isn’t reason enough to put him in prison.” He folded his arms and regarded his officers. “There are other places that stand between us and the Orient. We need that man in the field. For the time being, I am willing to extend to him the benefit of the doubt. What of the rest of you?”
    Bessieres smiled wryly. “We’re not about to debate that with you.”
    Murat cracked a laugh. “No, that we’re not,” he said, and added, “I don’t think we can affix any blame on Vernet, not yet. I think we need more time to search for the scepter. If we find the scepter, then it may be that we will find out what happened to the private. After what happened last night, no one expects us to send anything back to Paris, not for a long time.”
    This was aggravating to Berthier, who bit the nail of his index finger off to the quick and sucked it to keep it from bleeding. “I’ll do whatever you wish, General,” he said sullenly. “But I must reiterate that I am certain this Lucien Vernet has stolen the scepter and murdered the marine guard. Who else was capable of the act? If you dismiss Vernet, then the rest of you”—he indicated all the men in the tent except the general—”come under suspicion. I think it is foolish to let him run free.”
    “Point taken,” said Napoleon, staring down at the writing table as if there were hidden messages there. “Suppose I send him away from here? He will still be working for our cause, but he will not be able to interfere with the investigation to find the scepter.”
    “Where were you planning on sending him?” asked Desaix.
    Napoleon thought about it. “What of Jaffa? We need more intelligence on that area before we act. We also need to establish a depot there. Let him do his best for us there.” He looked at his officers. “What do you think?”
    “I think it is the best of a bad situation,” said Berthier heavily.
    “It serves our purposes with a duality of good,” said Murat. “He continues to advance our cause and our gendarme officer is kept away from any venture where he might cause mischief.”
    “I don’t see any reason to object,” Bessieres remarked. “If he sends regular reports, we will be able to keep track of him and gain needed intelligence at the same time.”
    Desaix nodded. “In the meantime, what do we do about the scepter?”
    “I will decide what course to follow before the day after tomorrow,” Napoleon informed them. “Make yourselves available that evening, if you will.” It was as great a courtesy as Napoleon ever extended to his officers, and they accepted his brusqueness out of habit.
    Berthier sighed. “When will you order him to leave for Jaffa?”
    “Tomorrow afternoon, I think. That will be time enough,” answered Napoleon. “If we send him away today, he might bolt for it.”
    “And his wife?” asked Berthier.
    “His wife is with him,” said Napoleon, his memory jogged. “Yes.”
    “Does she go with him?” Berthier prompted.
    Napoleon pulled at his lower lip, bouncing once on the balls of his feet. “No,” he decided. “She’ll remain here, with most of the other wives. She can make herself useful with the wounded.