Traitor and the Tunnel Read Online Free PDF Page B

lies with the Lascar who attacked Mr Beaulieu-Buckworth. He wil insist that the Prince of Wales was present – perhaps, even, that he joined with Mr Beaulieu-Buckworth in attacking him. Pure invention, of course,” Commissioner Blake added hastily, “but these scoundrels seize upon anything to shore up their defence and muddy the truth.”
    “He may be certain of a second gentleman,”
    al owed the Queen, “but he is clearly mad if he imagines it to have been the Prince of Wales. Did you not say the man was an opium fiend?”
    “We believe so.”
    “And do opium addicts not suffer from fits and delusions?”
    “Y – yes…”
    “Then we have no difficulty.” There was a long, meaningful pause. “Have we?”
    “And yet we may.” Prince Albert’s voice was deep, reluctant – and utterly surprising. “The first attack,” he said very slowly, “was on the Prince of Wales. And you say the Asiatic sailor recognized him?”
    “The Prince of Wales thinks so,” said Blake. His expression was careful y neutral but tense al the same. “He believes he was recognized.”
    “Then we have not only a clear identification, but a much more serious crime: an attack – most likely a murderous attack – on the person of the future King of England.”
    There was a prolonged silence, during which the unspoken word seemed to reverberate about the chil y room. Treason – not merely against the state, but against the monarchy. That made it high treason.
    Blake bowed. “Correct, Your Highness.”
    Queen Victoria frowned. “That is true only if Bertie is correct about the identification. Could he not be in error? What would an opium-addled foreigner know about the Prince of Wales’s appearance to enable him to identify him so confidently – especial y in such circumstances?” Her voice grew angry. “It beggars belief that such a vil ain could instantly recognize –

    and have the temerity to attack – the future King.
    This must surely be a grotesque error.”
    “The Prince of Wales is a public figure,” argued Prince Albert. “His portrait appears regularly in society papers. Just as your subjects recognize you, my dear, they recognize your heir.”
    “Perhaps,” said the Queen. “And I grant the seriousness of the attack. But if we pursue this route, the Prince of Wales wil be subjected to a public scrutiny far too painful for him to bear. There wil be scandal, not to mention the horror of a trial – good God, what if he is required to testify? Only think of what people wil say – what newspapers might print!
    I cannot permit this!”
    There was another prolonged silence. It was perhaps fanciful of Mary to imagine, sightless as she was behind the drapes, but this pause had a different quality. It was not a stand-off, but a sort of silent negotiation between husband and wife. Mary had witnessed this before – the rapid, minute flashes of change and exchange in their eyes. The sort of conversation only a close, long-married couple could have.
    After a moment, Her Majesty once again addressed the commissioner. “The Prince Consort and I shal speak with our son tomorrow, when he is awake and calm. We shal ask the Prince of Wales to repeat his impressions of the night’s events. Once we have arrived at an understanding, we shal inform you of how we wish to proceed.”
    A pause. Then, reluctantly, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
    The interview was over, bar the formalities. Mary let out a long, silent breath she hadn’t known she was holding until that moment. She raised her shoulders and wil ed her tense muscles to soften.
    Outside this room, the day was starting. Servants would soon be rising. It was cutting it fine, but she ought to have time to return to the bedroom before Amy woke.
    “A moment, Commissioner.” Queen Victoria’s voice sliced through Mary’s thoughts. “What is the name of this opium fiend – the murderer?”
    “It’s a Chinese name, Your Majesty. Difficult to say
    – even assuming