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Audierne—almost in sight of Brest and, of course, in French waters.
    â€œThen, according to the cavalry officer, on the 23rd Bonaparte issued an order to detain British men between the ages of eighteen and sixty who are liable to serve in the British army or navy.”
    Ramage glanced at Sarah. It was now the 25th of May. Britain and France had been at war for exactly a week. Yet yesterday when the two of them spent much of the day out on Pointe St Mathieu there had been no sign of police guarding the roads, no sign of a blockade; not a frigate on the horizon.
    The valet seemed to have more to say, but whatever it was, he was not enjoying the prospect.
    â€œWell, Gilbert, is that all?”
    â€œNo, milord, I regret it is not. You appreciate that my purpose in listening at the door was to obtain information to pass to you …”
    â€œI am sure you were doing exactly what the Count would wish you to do, Gilbert, and we are grateful.”
    â€œWell, milord, the cavalry officer stressed that the Count was being arrested on the orders of Bonaparte but as the result of information laid by the Countess—the former Countess, I mean. And she had told the authorities that he was likely to have English guests staying with him. That was why I wanted you to leave your suite quickly.”
    â€œBut they’ll look in the trunks …”
    Gilbert shook his head. “I doubt it, sir: the suite looked unoccupied when I came to you. Not only that, it is hardly where you would
expect
to find guests …” There was no mistaking Gilbert’s horror at the choice of rooms forced on the Count by the Revolution. “The Count’s own suite has even less furniture. Anyway, the soldiers will start their search in the kitchen—”
    â€œThe
kitchen?
”
    â€œOh yes, milord, straight to the kitchen—to look for wine. I sent Edouard there at once to make sure there was plenty readily available. Once the officer has taken the Count away and the soldiers start searching, they will be half drunk. I do not think it will be a careful search.”
    â€œThey were taking the Count away at once?” Sarah asked.
    â€œThe officer gave him ten minutes to dress and pack a small bag, milady.”
    Ramage was conscious that what he did from now on would govern whether or not he was marched off to a French prison as a
détenu,
but he was much more frightened of Sarah’s possible fate. A selfish thought slid in before he had time to parry it: being married did indeed mean you had given a hostage to fortune. Now he could understand Lord St Vincent’s dictum, that an officer who married was lost to the Service. Quite apart from Sarah’s own safety in a case like this (which was admittedly unusual), would a happily married officer risk his own life in battle with the same recklessness as a bachelor, knowing that he now had something very special to lose? And if he had children …
    He looked up at Gilbert. “What will they do to the Count? Guillotine him?”
    â€œIt is possible, milord, but—if I may speak freely—I think the Countess, the former Countess rather, will probably make sure his life is saved. I thought they were happily married—until the Revolution, when she became caught up in the fever. Transportation is likely—I believe many Royalists who were not executed were sent to Cayenne, which I’m sure you know is a tiny island in the Tropics off the coast of French Guinea, in South America. Priests, masons, monarchists, indeed anyone out of favour with the Republic, are sent to Cayenne.”
    â€œWhat do you suggest we do now? Obviously we want to get back to England.”
    Gilbert nodded cautiously. “The first priority is to avoid you falling into the Republic’s hands. The second is to get you back to England. If you will excuse me, I will go to see what news Edouard has. The soldiers will have been talking freely to him, I am