To the conspirators in Colonel Marbet's lodgings, the usurper was the elected leader of their country, and the rumours that he had attempted to poison himself gave their intentions a greater urgency.

'Someone's coming!' Duroc's remark galvanized them all. He was on his feet in an instant; Delaborde woke with a start and dropped the glass, caught it on his boot from where it rolled unbroken onto the floor. Colonel Marbet removed the pipe from his mouth and rose slowly, turning in anticipation to the door, while Rear-Admiral Lejeune merely lowered his book.

Colonel Montholon threw open the door and was greeted by the stares of the four men.

'Well?' demanded Duroc.

Montholon closed the door behind him.

'Were you followed?' asked Lejeune.

'I don't think so,' said Montholon.

'Well, where is it to be?' Duroc pressed, fuming with impatience.

'Is the Emperor fit to travel?'

'He'll have to travel, whether he likes it or not,' snarled Duroc. 'The point is where to? You do know, don't you?' The tall man turned on Montholon, 'Or have we got to hang about while your sister ...'

'Hold your tongue, Duroc!' snapped Lejeune, closing his book, standing up and stepping up to Montholon to place a consoling hand upon his shoulder. 'Take no notice of Gaston, Etienne, he's a boor.'

Duroc grunted again and poured another glass. He also filled a second and handed it to Montholon. 'No offence,' he grumbled.

'He's just a big-booted bastard,' Marbet added genially, smiling conciliatorily, his eyes on Montholon. 'Well, Etienne?'

‘It's to be the Azores, gentlemen,' Montholon said, then raised the glass lo his lips.

There was a sigh of collective relief, then Lejeune, as though finding the news too good, asked Montholon, 'So it is not to be Elba?'