The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ have as disastrous an effect as a postponement of the marriage.”

      “Well, then, talk sense,” says I. “If the Prince can’t marry her in six weeks, the wedding’s off, ain’t it? You’ll have to think of something else.”

      “We have,” says Bismarck. “And the wedding will take place.”

      “You’re talking bloody nonsense,” says I. “Anyway, what the hell do I care? What has all this to do with me?”

      Bismarck tossed down on the table the thing he had been holding. It slithered along the length of the wood and stopped in front of me. I saw it was a gold case, oval and about four inches long.

      “Open it,” says Bismarck.

      I touched the catch, and the thing sprang open. In it was a miniature, in very fine colour, showing a man in uniform, youngish, but with a completely bald head which gave him an unnatural look. He wasn’t bad-looking, though, and it seemed to me I knew him … and then the case dropped from my fingers, and the room seemed to swim about me. For I did know him; saving the bald head, the face in the miniature was my own. It was all too familiar from my own mirror: the likeness was uncanny, exact.

      “Prince Carl Gustaf of Denmark,” says Bismarck, and his voice seemed to be coming through a fog.

      I’m not often at a loss for words, but at that moment I sat stricken dumb. The enormity of the idea—for it was as plain as a pikestaff in an instant—was beyond reasonable comment. I just sat and gaped from them to the miniature and back, and Rudi’s jovial laugh rang out.

      “Magnificent!” cries he. “I’d not have missed that moment for a dukedom! I wish you could have seen your face—your own face, I mean.”

      “You will remember,” says Bismarck, “that when we first met in London I was puzzled to remember where I had seen you before. I had not, of course—but I had seen the young Prince Carl when he visited Berlin. I realised then that you were doppelgängers, identical bodies, and regarded it as an interesting fact; no more. Three months ago, when I first learned of the Prince’s indisposition, and that his response to treatment was too slow to make it possible that he be married on the required date, I remembered the fact again. I perceived that here lay a way out. At first, as you may appreciate, I rejected the notion as absurd. Then I applied myself to study it minutely, and saw that it was possible. Incredible, perhaps, but still possible. I planned it step by step, and saw that with proper care and preparation it was more than that—it was virtually certain of success. My decision taken, I set in motion the events that have brought you here to Schönhausen.”

      At last I found my tongue. “You’re mad!” I shouted. “You’re a raving lunatic! You’d substitute me … for him … to … to … pose … to attempt the maddest, most ridiculous …”

      “Silence!” he shouted, and came round the table, his face working with passion. “Do you suppose I have entered on this matter lightly? That I have not examined it, time and time again, before I determined on it? Do you imagine I designed the plan that has brought you here, and spent the time and money I have used, without being certain that I could complete the whole business?” He bent down, his face close to mine, and spoke rapidly and quietly. “Consider, if you have the intelligence, the minute thoroughness of the stratagem that has brought you this far. Planned, my English numbskull, with a care and precision that your slow wits cannot conceive.”

      “Genius,” says Kraftstein, jerking his head like a doll.

      “Only one thing was a matter of chance—your presence in England. It was the prerequisite, and by good fortune it was there. The rest—organisation.” Bismarck took a breath and straightened up. “And as we have begun, so we will proceed.”

      Well, I saw one thing: he was mad; they all were. And, by God, if they thought they were dragging me into their lunacy, they had got the wrong man.

      “I won’t touch it,” says I, “and that’s flat. D’you think I’m as big a fool as you are? Good God, man, the thing’s impossible; I wouldn’t last five minutes as … a substitute for this poxed-up Danish fellow. And what then, eh?”

      Bismarck considered me a moment. Then: “Fill his glass, Kraftstein.” He walked back to his seat, and stretched his legs.

      “It is, perhaps, unreasonable to expect you to accept the scheme without being convinced of its soundness. Tell me, why do you suppose it might fail?”

      There were about seven hundred answers to that, and I burst out with the first one that came to mind.

      “I couldn’t get away with it! How could I pretend to be a Danish prince?”

      “Take my word for it that you could. The likeness, believe me, is astounding. No one would suspect the imposture for a moment.”

      “But I don’t speak Danish, dammit!”

      “But you have a gift for languages, remember? In the few weeks available, you can be given a smattering. No more than that will be necessary, for His Highness speaks German indifferently well, as you will before you take his place. You have a tolerable fluency as it is.”

      “But … but … well, how the devil do you propose that I should take his place? Go to Denmark, I suppose, and present suitable references! Balderdash!”

      “You need not go to Denmark. I have been in constant communication with Prince Carl Gustaf. Naturally, he does not know of our plan, but he does have great faith in me. One of the ministers I mentioned is in my employ. Through him, all has been arranged. The Prince will set out from Denmark when the time comes with his retinue; he has been led to believe that I have found a way out of his difficulties. He is rather a simple fellow, although amiable, and supposes that I can arrange matters. In that belief he will come to Holstein, en route to Strackenz, and in Holstein the substitution will take place. The mechanics you may leave to me.”

      It was like listening to some grotesque fairy-tale. The cool, precise way in which he told it was staggering.

      “But … but this retinue—his people, I mean …”

      “The minister who is my agent will accompany the Prince. His name is Detchard. With him at your side, you need have no fears. And no one will suspect you: why should they?”

      “Because I’ll give myself away in a hundred things, man! My voice, my actions—God knows what!”

      “That is not so,” said Bismarck. “I tell you, I know the Prince, his voice, his mannerisms—all of it. And I tell you that if you shave your head and upper lip, your own mothers would not know you apart.”

      “It’s true,” says Rudi, from the fireplace. “You aren’t just alike: you’re the same man. If you learn a few of his habits—gestures, that sort of thing—it can’t fail.”

      “But I’m not an actor! How can I—”

      “You wandered in Afghanistan disguised as a native, did you not?” says Bismarck. “I know as much about you as you do yourself, you see. If you can do that, you can easily do this.” He leaned forward again. “All this has been thought of. If you were not a man of action, of proved resource and courage, of geist und geschicklichkeit, wit and aptitude, I would not have entertained this scheme for a moment. It is because you have all these things, and СКАЧАТЬ