“Good evening, sir,” boomed the elderly-looking and well-dressed man who had accompanied Belle Boyd into the mansion in Atlanta, Georgia, that had been converted to a luxurious gambling house. “My name is Culpepper, Colonel Ebediah F. Culpepper the Third. Retired, of course. They say I’m too old for duty, sir. Well, I’ll show them.” While his left hand tapped the metal ferrule of the silver-topped polished ebony cane in his left hand on the floor as if to emphasize the point he was making, he slapped where the inside breast of his white cutaway jacket bulged with his right palm and went on just as flamboyantly, “I trust, sir, you have liberal funds to meet the winnings I shall have to be used to set up my niece in the manner she deserves?”
It was highly unlikely that anybody who had known the beautiful, willowy girl when she was living happily at Baton Royale Manor would have recognized her at that moment. She was dressed and behaving in the manner required by her pose of being the kind of fluttery, featherbrained, and generally less-than-competent-at-anything Southron maiden already often portrayed on the stage and met in real life often enough to give credence to the character. She had so ably created the guise for her first assignment as a member of the Confederate States Secret Service.
Three months had elapsed since Belle had achieved her purpose by having been inducted into the service of the organization she had sought to locate by employing the unconventional methods that brought her to its member’s attention. Although being related to Rose Greenhow, who she had discovered was high in its hierarchy, she was aware that it was solely her own efforts and willingness to learn whatever was required of her that had allowed her to get as far as she had. What was more, on learning how her aunt had been able to reach Richmond, she had discovered something of the dedication that would be expected from her if she was to succeed as a Rebel spy.
Finding that the attentions of Allan Pinkerton, who she claimed to be the most efficient member of the Union’s Secret Service, had made Washington, D.C., too hot for safety and also having acquired intelligence of vital importance that must be delivered to her superiors with a minimum of delay, Rose had contrived with the help of another lady with Southern sympathies, but who was unable to travel from the North for family reasons, to escape. When telling Belle of the means employed, sounding a trifle defiant and perhaps even a little conscience-stricken, the beautiful black-haired woman had stated that she would not have permitted the sacrifice of liberty if the intelligence she had acquired had not been a matter of highest importance.
Being a realist, the girl had accepted that she might be compelled to reach similar unpleasant decisions in the work that lay ahead and hoped she would have the strength of will to behave in the same fashion.
There was one thing of which Belle felt confident. Should she fail in her duties, it would not be because of a lack of training. In fact, even more than while she was carrying out the program that led to her being brought to the attention of Captain Alexandre Dartagnan, the tall, debonair and handsome French Creole—who could prove to be descended from the famous Gascon swordsman of that name—almost every day had been fully occupied by something that would offer her a greater chance of survival or prove of use for the duties she was to perform.
The skills that Belle had acquired from Alfred Higgins were improved under his still-willing guidance, with him expressing such admiration for the way they had been followed undetected by him to their burglary that he had offered his services to the organization. Having seen proof of his abilities by the way in which he had helped the girl carry out the robbery and then return the loot—chosen so carefully by her as being embarrassing to the loser rather than of military importance or secrecy—with such dexterity and care that General Wilberforce Crumley never learned its temporary removal had taken place, this was accepted without reservations.
Instructed by Rose, who was an expert in the subject, as had been proved by the way her return to Richmond had been effected, the girl had improved her already latent ability at creating different characters by using disguises and had been supplied with several things—including the start of a collection of realistic-looking wigs—to give greater credence to whatever persona she adopted. She had become adept at using the code employing a substitution of letters by numbers with which messages could be passed. xii Although competent in the use of savate, she had learned from Dartagnan to employ methods of attack that would result in an immediate disqualification if applied during a formal sporting contest. He had told her with Gallic humor that, instead of making the spectacular leaping high kick to the chest when trying to go to Higgins’s assistance, she would have achieved far better results by delivering a more potent kick to somewhere he described as being “between neck and knee” and was followed by a demonstration that indicated the point on the masculine anatomy he had in mind.
Much to Belle’s satisfaction, as they were subjects generally regarded as being male-only accomplishments—especially by members of her class, especially in the Southern states—and of which she suspected her aunt did not entirely approve despite appreciating how useful having them was likely to be, there had been fields in which it was considered she already possessed a sufficiency of competence. Because of the training she had received at her father’s instigation, she had a superlative ability at riding a horse sidesaddle or astride across the most difficult terrain, a skill that was to serve her so well in her career.
Furthermore, having demonstrated it in practice, the girl’s ability in the use of firearms of various kinds had received praise. On having put to the test her ability at fighting, as opposed to formally fencing, Dartagnan, being an acknowledged master at both, had claimed that the lessons learned from Captain Anatol de-Farge had been so comprehensive in their scope that there was nothing further he could teach her. The devices for self-protection supplied by the gambler had met with the approval of everybody to whom they were shown, as did the modification she had had made to her skirts at his suggestion. To the former implements, she had added the kind of most effective concealed and disguised weapon that her aunt possessed, and one of them would be an important factor in her later survival. It was claimed that the instructions in detecting and even using some of the methods employed by dishonest professional gamblers, given by an old friend of her family to add to her other unconventional accomplishments, might serve another useful purpose when she commenced her duties.
As time went by and she realized she was gaining an ever-growing satisfaction over the way her training was progressing, Belle had begun to become impatient to commence active duties. Although she never forgot her desire to take a justifiable revenge upon Alfred Tollinger and George Barmain for the murder of her parents—Rose having contrived to learn that they had joined other “liberals” in a section of the Yankee Secret Service that was less efficient than the branch run by Allan Pinkerton without as yet finding out where they might be serving—she had accepted that they were probably beyond her reach in the line of duty. What was more, she never allowed herself to forget the promise she had given on her word of honor to her aunt on the night they met, and continually swore to herself she would never turn aside from her duty should she learn where she could find them.
The chance for the girl to be sent into what her companions referred to as “the field” came as the result of complaints from their superiors being received by Rose Greenhow in a coded message. There was a serious leakage of information taking place in Atlanta, and Belle was sent with Dartagnan to help try to locate, then stamp out, the source. At her suggestion, made because Higgins had said his specialized services might prove useful and asked her to make it, he was included in the small party. On arrival and after establishing contact, they had found that the local agents had made considerable progress in the matter, but felt their assistance would be of little use in bringing the matter to a conclusion.
As a result of the investigations carried out on the spot, it had been ascertained that the first part of the problem was almost certainly the result of a small number of Army and Navy officers—not all of whom were young and of junior rank—and others in positions allowing access to items that the North would find of use, being regular participants in the games of chance offered at a high-class gambling house in the city. Several were known to have sustained heavy losses and lacked the financial means to settle their debts, yet they had not appeared to be pressed by the owners to do so. In fact, there had been rumors that some had had the liabilities discounted supposedly on grounds of loyalty to the Southern cause. While such a contingency was possible, the local operative had stated that the owners of the gambling house would be most unlikely to show generosity in such a fashion, as to do so would establish what they were almost certain to regard as a dangerous precedent.
Wanting the matter investigated, Colonel Charles Jeremiah Mason, the head of the Secret Service in Atlanta, had suggested that the matter be handled by the visitors from Richmond, since they were strangers in the town and less likely to arouse suspicion than any of his men, all of whom—with one exception—had been residents for some time and had never shown any interest in gambling, even before taking up their duties.
On being introduced to the exception, Belle had been delighted to find that he was Joseph Brambile, who in addition to being a successful professional gambler was an old friend of her family. Without waiting to be told of the accomplishments she had added since their last meeting, as he had heard what happened to her parents, he guessed what had motivated her to join the Secret Service. Therefore, he had suggested a means by which proof might be obtained about the honesty of the gambling house if nothing more positive.
“Ole Dixie,” as the Colonel was cheerfully and respectfully referred to behind his back by his juniors on account of his being a descendant of one of the men who surveyed what had already become known as the Mason-Dixon line and accepted as separating the Southern “slave” and Northern “free” states, had agreed that the proof would at least allow the establishment to be closed and its owners and employees to be run out of town. However, it was apparent to Belle from the way he had looked briefly in her direction that—due to his upbringing as a Southern gentleman—he had been far from enamored of making use of her services in the capacity that was suggested. However, Brambile had insisted that she was a most essential part of the deception he was planning, and Dartagnan had rallied to her support by declaring that there was no woman more capable of self-protection should the need for this arise. Accepting both points, Mason had given what was clearly an acceptance filled with unspoken misgivings.
Because the matter was regarded as being of the greatest urgency, no time had been wasted in putting the plan proposed by Brambile into effect. To avoid being recognized, although he had not been even close to Atlanta in several years, he had adopted the attire of a well-to-do plantation owner older than Brambile himself. For her part, Belle had donned a blond wig of a suitable style to go with the expensive dress and other accoutrements—including the protective devices from de-Farge and a fancy parasol of a style copied in every respect from one in the possession of her aunt—to add credence to the character in which she had been introduced: his less-than-bright and insipidly garrulous, albeit trimly curvaceous and beautiful companion whom he claimed to be his niece but who gave the impression of qualifying more accurately as his mistress.
~*~
“Yes, Colonel,” Martin Jacques confirmed with the suggestion of bonhomie he always exuded so convincingly when addressing men he knew to be very wealthy and less-than-successful gamblers. Big, burly, with features just short of ugly, he was excellently and expensively dressed in a manner that gave no indication of how he earned his living. He glanced quickly to where his partner, David Hunt—whose lean and gaunt physique was clad in a similar fashion—stood close by listening to what was said while studying the “blonde” in a frankly lascivious manner. “We most certainly do, and it is always our pleasure to see it go to a gentleman of distinction like yourself.”
“There, Maggie-child,” Joseph Brambile boomed in the manner of speech he knew the man he was impersonating invariably used. “I told you we’d come to the right place.”
“That you did, Third-honey,” Belle Boyd asserted, giving her companion’s left arm a squeeze suggestive of affection, in keeping with the character she wanted to establish for “Magnolia Beauregard,” the name she had chosen to use and would often use in the future as being indicative of her birth and background. “But then, you’re always right about everything, I do declare.”
“What will your pleasure be, Colonel?” Jacques inquired, and waved a fat hand in a leisurely fashion around the big room. “As you can see, we offer a variety of games of chance, and although I say it myself, you won’t find any better served nor more honest no matter where you go.”
“If I doubted that, sir,” the disguised gambler replied with the same feisty bombast, “I would not have brought my niece here in the first place. By the way, allow me to present her. This is Miss Magnolia Beauregard.”
“Proud to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” the bulky man said formally, with a bow that was deeper than required by convention.
“Enchante, m’sieur,” Belle responded in poorer French than she would normally have employed, while giving a curtsy that allowed Hunt an opportunity that he took the most advantage of to see down into the daring décolleté of her white crinoline gown’s bodice. ‘Third-honey does so love to gamble, and I enjoy him doing it.”
“Perhaps you would care for a libation while you are making your choice, Colonel?” Jacques suggested, drawing the intended conclusion that Magnolia Beauregard found the participation in gambling served to stir her elderly keeper sexually. “And you, of course, Mam’zelle Beauregard?”
“Can I have some champagne, Third-honey?” Belle cooed. “You know how I dearly love what it does to m—the way the bubbles tickle my nose!”
“I certainly do and you most certainly may” Brambile authorized, also keeping the impression that there was a special significance in the way the first part of the explanation was worded before being altered to something more innocuous. “I’ll take a bourbon, sir, while I’m looking around and deciding at which game I will do my winning from you.”
“How do you think it’s going, Third-honey?” Belle inquired, just loudly enough for Brambile alone to hear, after they had accepted the drinks that were brought by a colored waiter in response to a signal and order from Jacques and they had started to walk slowly across the room.
“What a name you’ve picked, Maggie-child,” the gambler replied no more loudly, pleased and amused by the way in which the girl was making it appear that she was cooing sweet nothings into his ear. “But everything’s going along quite satisfactorily so far. The fat feller’s obviously heard of Colonel Ebediah F. Culpepper, which I expected to be the case, but hasn’t made his acquaintance face-to-face.”
“That could have been difficult.”
“It could, although I calculated the odds to be in our favor against its having happened. Even if it did, unless they had been on close terms, I was confident I look and sound enough like the good Colonel for him to assume it was only the passage of time which caused any minor discrepancies.”
At first, although the girl thought the surroundings were even more opulent than those of Captain Anatol de-Farge— which was understandable, as Baton Rouge was a smaller town than Atlanta—neither paid any particular attention at that moment to the various games of chance that were taking place. Rather, they subjected the people who were present to their scrutiny. The staff were well-dressed and, except for the half a dozen large men who loafed around without doing any kind of work or participating in the games, appeared courteously efficient.
The players were mostly military or naval officers of differing ranks and civilians whose attire implied affluent circumstances. However, there were a few women present. These were alike in being well-dressed and bejeweled. Belle was just wondering which of them were employed by the house. She was just about concluding that she could not tell if this was the case, or they were there either as companions brought by the players or even as participants at the games in their own behalf when she received something of a surprise. It took all her willpower to prevent her perturbation from becoming apparent.
Standing at the faro bank table, which was doing the most business and appeared to have the highest stakes, clad and jeweled as well as any other woman present, was the curvaceously close-to-buxom and attractive English redhead who called herself Roxanne Fortescue-Smethers!
For a moment Belle’s eyes locked with those of the redhead.
Then Roxanne looked away and gave her attention to the man by her side.
“What’s wrong, B—Maggie-child?” Brambile asked sotto voce, making the alteration to the name he had meant to say even though he was not likely to be overheard. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Is it that obvious?” the girl asked, having felt sure she had just managed to prevent her surprise from showing on her face.
“Only to somebody who knows you as well as I do. So what is it?”
“I’ve seen somebody I know and I think she may have recognized me.”
“Hm!’ Brambile breathed noncommittally, and although there was no difference in his face or manner, Belle sensed an air of controlled tension. “Is she a friend, or going by the way you looked likely to prove an enemy?”
“More of an acquaintance,” the girl admitted, thinking of the night she and the redhead put on what they turned into only a pretense at fighting. Then she gave a shrug and went on, “Well she hasn’t done anything yet and I may be wrong about her recognizing me, so we may as well see if we can do what we came here for.”