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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5805.txt b/5805.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8e7cd3b --- /dev/null +++ b/5805.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9131 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel + +Author: Baroness Orczy + +Posting Date: October 4, 2011 [EBook #5805] +Release Date: June, 2004 +[This file was first posted on September 4, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL + +BY BARONESS ORCZY + +AUTHOR OF "FLOWER O' THE LILY," "LORD TONY'S WIFE," "THE SCARLET +PIMPERNEL," ETC. + + + + +CONTENTS + +I SIR PERCY EXPLAINS + +II A QUESTION OF PASSPORTS + +III TWO GOOD PATRIOTS + +IV THE OLD SCARECROW + +V A FINE BIT OF WORK + +VI HOW JEAN PIERRE MET THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL + +VII OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH + +VIII THE TRAITOR + +IX THE CABARET DE LA LIBERTE + +X "NEEDS MUST--" + +XI A BATTLE OF WITS + + + + +I + +SIR PERCY EXPLAINS + + +It was not, Heaven help us all! a very uncommon occurrence these days: a +woman almost unsexed by misery, starvation, and the abnormal excitement +engendered by daily spectacles of revenge and of cruelty. They were to +be met with every day, round every street corner, these harridans, more +terrible far than were the men. + +This one was still comparatively young, thirty at most; would have been +good-looking too, for the features were really delicate, the nose +chiselled, the brow straight, the chin round and small. But the mouth! +Heavens, what a mouth! Hard and cruel and thin-lipped; and those eyes! +sunken and rimmed with purple; eyes that told tales of sorrow and, yes! +of degradation. The crowd stood round her, sullen and apathetic; poor, +miserable wretches like herself, staring at her antics with lack-lustre +eyes and an ever-recurrent contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. + +The woman was dancing, contorting her body in the small circle of light +formed by a flickering lanthorn which was hung across the street from +house to house, striking the muddy pavement with her shoeless feet, all +to the sound of a be-ribboned tambourine which she struck now and again +with her small, grimy hand. From time to time she paused, held out the +tambourine at arm's length, and went the round of the spectators, asking +for alms. But at her approach the crowd at once seemed to disintegrate, +to melt into the humid evening air; it was but rarely that a greasy +token fell into the outstretched tambourine. Then as the woman started +again to dance the crowd gradually reassembled, and stood, hands in +pockets, lips still sullen and contemptuous, but eyes watchful of the +spectacle. There were such few spectacles these days, other than the +monotonous processions of tumbrils with their load of aristocrats for +the guillotine! + +So the crowd watched, and the woman danced. The lanthorn overhead threw +a weird light on red caps and tricolour cockades, on the sullen faces of +the men and the shoulders of the women, on the dancer's weird antics and +her flying, tattered skirts. She was obviously tired, as a poor, +performing cur might be, or a bear prodded along to uncongenial +buffoonery. Every time that she paused and solicited alms with her +tambourine the crowd dispersed, and some of them laughed because she +insisted. + +"Voyons," she said with a weird attempt at gaiety, "a couple of sous for +the entertainment, citizen! You have stood here half an hour. You can't +have it all for nothing, what?" + +The man--young, square-shouldered, thick-lipped, with the look of a +bully about his well-clad person--retorted with a coarse insult, which +the woman resented. There were high words; the crowd for the most part +ranged itself on the side of the bully. The woman backed against the +wall nearest to her, held feeble, emaciated hands up to her ears in a +vain endeavour to shut out the hideous jeers and ribald jokes which were +the natural weapons of this untamed crowd. + +Soon blows began to rain; not a few fell upon the unfortunate woman. She +screamed, and the more she screamed the louder did the crowd jeer, the +uglier became its temper. Then suddenly it was all over. How it happened +the woman could not tell. She had closed her eyes, feeling sick and +dizzy; but she had heard a loud call, words spoken in English (a +language which she understood), a pleasant laugh, and a brief but +violent scuffle. After that the hurrying retreat of many feet, the click +of sabots on the uneven pavement and patter of shoeless feet, and then +silence. + +She had fallen on her knees and was cowering against the wall, had lost +consciousness probably for a minute or two. Then she heard that pleasant +laugh again and the soft drawl of the English tongue. + +"I love to see those beggars scuttling off, like so many rats to their +burrows, don't you, Ffoulkes?" + +"They didn't put up much fight, the cowards!" came from another voice, +also in English. "A dozen of them against this wretched woman. What had +best be done with her?" + +"I'll see to her," rejoined the first speaker. "You and Tony had best +find the others. Tell them I shall be round directly." + +It all seemed like a dream. The woman dared not open her eyes lest +reality--hideous and brutal--once more confronted her. Then all at once +she felt that her poor, weak body, encircled by strong arms, was lifted +off the ground, and that she was being carried down the street, away +from the light projected by the lanthorn overhead, into the sheltering +darkness of a yawning porte cochere. But she was not then fully +conscious. + + +II + +When she reopened her eyes she was in what appeared to be the lodge of a +concierge. She was lying on a horsehair sofa. There was a sense of +warmth and of security around her. No wonder that it still seemed like a +dream. Before her stood a man, tall and straight, surely a being from +another world--or so he appeared to the poor wretch who, since +uncountable time, had set eyes on none but the most miserable dregs of +struggling humanity, who had seen little else but rags, and faces either +cruel or wretched. This man was clad in a huge caped coat, which made +his powerful figure seem preternaturally large. His hair was fair and +slightly curly above his low, square brow; the eyes beneath their heavy +lids looked down on her with unmistakable kindness. + +The poor woman struggled to her feet. With a quick and pathetically +humble gesture she drew her ragged, muddy skirts over her ankles and her +tattered kerchief across her breast. + +"I had best go now, Monsieur ... citizen," she murmured, while a hot +flush rose to the roots of her unkempt hair. "I must not stop here.... +I--" + +"You are not going, Madame," he broke in, speaking now in perfect French +and with a great air of authority, as one who is accustomed to being +implicitly obeyed, "until you have told me how, a lady of culture and of +refinement, comes to be masquerading as a street-dancer. The game is a +dangerous one, as you have experienced to-night." + +"It is no game, Monsieur ... citizen," she stammered; "nor yet a +masquerade. I have been a street-dancer all my life, and--" + +By way of an answer he took her hand, always with that air of authority +which she never thought to resent. + +"This is not a street-dancer's hand; Madame," he said quietly. "Nor is +your speech that of the people." + +She drew her hand away quickly, and the flush on her haggard face +deepened. + +"If you will honour me with your confidence, Madame," he insisted. + +The kindly words, the courtesy of the man, went to the poor creature's +heart. She fell back upon the sofa and with her face buried in her arms +she sobbed out her heart for a minute or two. The man waited quite +patiently. He had seen many women weep these days, and had dried many a +tear through deeds of valour and of self-sacrifice, which were for ever +recorded in the hearts of those whom he had succoured. + +When this poor woman had succeeded in recovering some semblance of +self-control, she turned her wan, tear-stained face to him and said +simply: + +"My name is Madeleine Lannoy, Monsieur. My husband was killed during the +emeutes at Versailles, whilst defending the persons of the Queen and of +the royal children against the fury of the mob. When I was a girl I had +the misfortune to attract the attentions of a young doctor named Jean +Paul Marat. You have heard of him, Monsieur?" + +The other nodded. + +"You know him, perhaps," she continued, "for what he is: the most cruel +and revengeful of men. A few years ago he threw up his lucrative +appointment as Court physician to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois, and +gave up the profession of medicine for that of journalist and +politician. Politician! Heaven help him! He belongs to the most +bloodthirsty section of revolutionary brigands. His creed is pillage, +murder, and revenge; and he chooses to declare that it is I who, by +rejecting his love, drove him to these foul extremities. May God forgive +him that abominable lie! The evil we do, Monsieur, is within us; it does +not come from circumstance. I, in the meanwhile, was a happy wife. My +husband, M. de Lannoy, who was an officer in the army, idolised me. We +had one child, a boy--" + +She paused, with another catch in her throat. Then she resumed, with +calmness that, in view of the tale she told, sounded strangely weird: + +"In June last year my child was stolen from me--stolen by Marat in +hideous revenge for the supposed wrong which I had done him. The details +of that execrable outrage are of no importance. I was decoyed from home +one day through the agency of a forged message purporting to come from a +very dear friend whom I knew to be in grave trouble at the time. Oh! the +whole thing was thoroughly well thought out, I can assure you!" she +continued, with a harsh laugh which ended in a heartrending sob. "The +forged message, the suborned servant, the threats of terrible reprisals +if anyone in the village gave me the slightest warning or clue. When the +whole miserable business was accomplished, I was just like a trapped +animal inside a cage, held captive by immovable bars of obstinate +silence and cruel indifference. No one would help me. No one ostensibly +knew anything; no one had seen anything, heard anything. The child was +gone! My servants, the people in the village--some of whom I could have +sworn were true and sympathetic--only shrugged their shoulders. 'Que +voulez-vous, Madame? Children of bourgeois as well as of aristos were +often taken up by the State to be brought up as true patriots and no +longer pampered like so many lap-dogs.' + +"Three days later I received a letter from that inhuman monster, Jean +Paul Marat. He told me that he had taken my child away from me, not from +any idea of revenge for my disdain in the past, but from a spirit of +pure patriotism. My boy, he said, should not be brought up with the same +ideas of bourgeois effeteness and love of luxury which had disgraced the +nation for centuries. No! he should be reared amongst men who had +realised the true value of fraternity and equality and the ideal of +complete liberty for the individual to lead his own life, unfettered by +senseless prejudices of education and refinement. Which means, +Monsieur," the poor woman went on with passionate misery, "that my child +is to be reared up in the company of all that is most vile and most +degraded in the disease-haunted slums of indigent Paris; that, with the +connivance of that execrable fiend Marat, my only son will, mayhap, come +back to me one day a potential thief, a criminal probably, a +drink-sodden reprobate at best. Such things are done every day in this +glorious Revolution of ours--done in the sacred name of France and of +Liberty. And the moral murder of my child is to be my punishment for +daring to turn a deaf ear to the indign passion of a brute!" + +Once more she paused, and when the melancholy echo of her broken voice +had died away in the narrow room, not another murmur broke the stillness +of this far-away corner of the great city. + +The man did not move. He stood looking down upon the poor woman before +him, a world of pity expressed in his deep-set eyes. Through the +absolute silence around there came the sound as of a gentle flutter, the +current of cold air, mayhap, sighing through the ill-fitting shutters, +or the soft, weird soughing made by unseen things. The man's heart was +full of pity, and it seemed as if the Angel of Compassion had come at +his bidding and enfolded the sorrowing woman with his wings. + +A moment or two later she was able to finish her pathetic narrative. + +"Do you marvel, Monsieur," she said, "that I am still sane--still alive? +But I only live to find my child. I try and keep my reason in order to +fight the devilish cunning of a brute on his own ground. Up to now all +my inquiries have been in vain. At first I squandered money, tried +judicial means, set an army of sleuth-hounds on the track. I tried +bribery, corruption. I went to the wretch himself and abased myself in +the dust before him. He only laughed at me and told me that his love for +me had died long ago; he now was lavishing its treasures upon the +faithful friend and companion--that awful woman, Simonne Evrard--who had +stood by him in the darkest hours of his misfortunes. Then it was that I +decided to adopt different tactics. Since my child was to be reared in +the midst of murderers and thieves, I, too, would haunt their abodes. I +became a street-singer, dancer, what you will. I wear rags now and +solicit alms. I haunt the most disreputable cabarets in the lowest slums +of Paris. I listen and I spy; I question every man, woman, and child who +might afford some clue, give me some indication. There is hardly a house +in these parts that I have not visited and whence I have not been kicked +out as an importunate beggar or worse. Gradually I am narrowing the +circle of my investigations. Presently I shall get a clue. I shall! I +know I shall! God cannot allow this monstrous thing to go on!" + +Again there was silence. The poor woman had completely broken down. +Shame, humiliation, passionate grief, had made of her a mere miserable +wreckage of humanity. + +The man waited awhile until she was composed, then he said simply: + +"You have suffered terribly, Madame; but chiefly, I think, because you +have been alone in your grief. You have brooded over it until it has +threatened your reason. Now, if you will allow me to act as your friend, +I will pledge you my word that I will find your son for you. Will you +trust me sufficiently to give up your present methods and place yourself +entirely in my hands? There are more than a dozen gallant gentlemen, who +are my friends, and who will help me in my search. But for this I must +have a free hand, and only help from you when I require it. I can find +you lodgings where you will be quite safe under the protection of my +wife, who is as like an angel as any man or woman I have ever met on +this earth. When your son is once more in your arms, you will, I hope, +accompany us to England, where so many of your friends have already +found a refuge. If this meets with your approval, Madame, you may +command me, for with your permission I mean to be your most devoted +servant." + +Dante, in his wild imaginations of hell and of purgatory and fleeting +glimpses of paradise, never put before us the picture of a soul that was +lost and found heaven, after a cycle of despair. Nor could Madeleine +Lannoy ever explain her feelings at that moment, even to herself. To +begin with, she could not quite grasp the reality of this ray of hope, +which came to her at the darkest hour of her misery. She stared at the +man before her as she would on an ethereal vision; she fell on her knees +and buried her face in her hands. + +What happened afterwards she hardly knew; she was in a state of +semi-consciousness. When she once more woke to reality, she was in +comfortable lodgings; she moved and talked and ate and lived like a +human being. She was no longer a pariah, an outcast, a poor, +half-demented creature, insentient save for an infinite capacity for +suffering. She suffered still, but she no longer despaired. There had +been such marvellous power and confidence in that man's voice when he +said: "I pledge you my word." Madeleine Lannoy lived now in hope and a +sweet sense of perfect mental and bodily security. Around her there was +an influence, too, a presence which she did not often see, but always +felt to be there: a woman, tall and graceful and sympathetic, who was +always ready to cheer, to comfort, and to help. Her name was Marguerite. +Madame Lannoy never knew her by any other. The man had spoken of her as +being as like an angel as could be met on this earth, and poor Madeleine +Lannoy fully agreed with him. + + +III + +Even that bloodthirsty tiger, Jean Paul Marat, has had his apologists. +His friends have called him a martyr, a selfless and incorruptible +exponent of social and political ideals. We may take it that Simonne +Evrard loved him, for a more impassioned obituary speech was, mayhap, +never spoken than the one which she delivered before the National +Assembly in honour of that sinister demagogue, whose writings and +activities will for ever sully some of the really fine pages of that +revolutionary era. + +But with those apologists we have naught to do. History has talked its +fill of the inhuman monster. With the more intimate biographists alone +has this true chronicle any concern. It is one of these who tells us +that on or about the eighteenth day of Messidor, in the year I of the +Republic (a date which corresponds with the sixth of July, 1793, of our +own calendar), Jean Paul Marat took an additional man into his service, +at the instance of Jeannette Marechal, his cook and maid-of-all-work. +Marat was at this time a martyr to an unpleasant form of skin disease, +brought on by the terrible privations which he had endured during the +few years preceding his association with Simonne Evrard, the faithful +friend and housekeeper, whose small fortune subsequently provided him +with some degree of comfort. + +The man whom Jeannette Marechal, the cook, introduced into the household +of No. 30, Rue des Cordeliers, that worthy woman had literally picked +one day out of the gutter where he was grabbing for scraps of food like +some wretched starving cur. He appeared to be known to the police of the +section, his identity book proclaiming him to be one Paul Mole, who had +served his time in gaol for larceny. He professed himself willing to do +any work required of him, for the merest pittance and some kind of roof +over his head. Simonne Evrard allowed Jeannette to take him in, partly +out of compassion and partly with a view to easing the woman's own +burden, the only other domestic in the house--a man named Bas--being +more interested in politics and the meetings of the Club des Jacobins +than he was in his master's ailments. The man Mole, moreover, appeared +to know something of medicine and of herbs and how to prepare the warm +baths which alone eased the unfortunate Marat from pain. He was +powerfully built, too, and though he muttered and grumbled a great deal, +and indulged in prolonged fits of sulkiness, when he would not open his +mouth to anyone, he was, on the whole, helpful and good-tempered. + +There must also have been something about his whole wretched personality +which made a strong appeal to the "Friend of the People," for it is +quite evident that within a few days Paul Mole had won no small measure +of his master's confidence. + +Marat, sick, fretful, and worried, had taken an unreasoning dislike to +his servant Bas. He was thankful to have a stranger about him, a man who +was as miserable as he himself had been a very little while ago; who, +like himself, had lived in cellars and in underground burrows, and lived +on the scraps of food which even street-curs had disdained. + +On the seventh day following Mole's entry into the household, and while +the latter was preparing his employer's bath, Marat said abruptly to +him: + +"You'll go as far as the Chemin de Pantin to-day for me, citizen. You +know your way?" + +"I can find it, what?" muttered Mole, who appeared to be in one of his +surly moods. + +"You will have to go very circumspectly," Marat went on, in his cracked +and feeble voice. "And see to it that no one spies upon your movements. +I have many enemies, citizen ... one especially ... a woman.... She is +always prying and spying on me.... So beware of any woman you see +lurking about at your heels." + +Mole gave a half-audible grunt in reply. + +"You had best go after dark," the other rejoined after awhile. "Come +back to me after nine o'clock. It is not far to the Chemin de +Pantin--just where it intersects the Route de Meaux. You can get there +and back before midnight. The people will admit you. I will give you a +ring--the only thing I possess.... It has little or no value," he added +with a harsh, grating laugh. "It will not be worth your while to steal +it. You will have to see a brat and report to me on his condition--his +appearance, what?... Talk to him a bit.... See what he says and let me +know. It is not difficult." + +"No, citizen." + +Mole helped the suffering wretch into his bath. Not a movement, not a +quiver of the eyelid betrayed one single emotion which he may have +felt--neither loathing nor sympathy, only placid indifference. He was +just a half-starved menial, thankful to accomplish any task for the sake +of satisfying a craving stomach. Marat stretched out his shrunken limbs +in the herbal water with a sigh of well-being. + +"And the ring, citizen?" Mole suggested presently. + +The demagogue held up his left hand--it was emaciated and disfigured by +disease. A cheap-looking metal ring, set with a false stone, glistened +upon the fourth finger. + +"Take it off," he said curtly. + +The ring must have all along been too small for the bony hand of the +once famous Court physician. Even now it appeared embedded in the flabby +skin and refused to slide over the knuckle. + +"The water will loosen it," remarked Mole quietly. + +Marat dipped his hand back into the water, and the other stood beside +him, silent and stolid, his broad shoulders bent, his face naught but a +mask, void and expressionless beneath its coating of grime. + +One or two seconds went by. The air was heavy with steam and a medley of +evil-smelling fumes, which hung in the close atmosphere of the narrow +room. The sick man appeared to be drowsy, his head rolled over to one +side, his eyes closed. He had evidently forgotten all about the ring. + +A woman's voice, shrill and peremptory, broke the silence which had +become oppressive: + +"Here, citizen Mole, I want you! There's not a bit of wood chopped up +for my fire, and how am I to make the coffee without firing, I should +like to know?" + +"The ring, citizen," Mole urged gruffly. + +Marat had been roused by the woman's sharp voice. He cursed her for a +noisy harridan; then he said fretfully: + +"It will do presently--when you are ready to start. I said nine o'clock +... it is only four now. I am tired. Tell citizeness Evrard to bring me +some hot coffee in an hour's time.... You can go and fetch me the +Moniteur now, and take back these proofs to citizen Dufour. You will +find him at the 'Cordeliers,' or else at the printing works.... Come +back at nine o'clock.... I am tired now ... too tired to tell you where +to find the house which is off the Chemin de Pantin. Presently will +do...." + +Even while he spoke he appeared to drop into a fitful sleep. His two +hands were hidden under the sheet which covered the bath. Mole watched +him in silence for a moment or two, then he turned on his heel and +shuffled off through the ante-room into the kitchen beyond, where +presently he sat down, squatting in an angle by the stove, and started +with his usual stolidness to chop wood for the citizeness' fire. + +When this task was done, and he had received a chunk of sour bread for +his reward from Jeannette Marechal, the cook, he shuffled out of the +place and into the street, to do his employer's errands. + + +IV + +Paul Mole had been to the offices of the Moniteur and to the printing +works of L'Ami du Peuple. He had seen the citizen Dufour at the Club +and, presumably, had spent the rest of his time wandering idly about the +streets of the quartier, for he did not return to the Rue des Cordeliers +until nearly nine o'clock. + +As soon as he came to the top of the street, he fell in with the crowd +which had collected outside No. 30. With his habitual slouchy gait and +the steady pressure of his powerful elbows, he pushed his way to the +door, whilst gleaning whisperings and rumours on his way. + +"The citizen Marat has been assassinated." + +"By a woman." + +"A mere girl." + +"A wench from Caen. Her name is Corday." + +"The people nearly tore her to pieces awhile ago." + +"She is as much as guillotined already." + +The latter remark went off with a loud guffaw and many a ribald joke. + +Mole, despite his great height, succeeded in getting through +unperceived. He was of no account, and he knew his way inside the house. +It was full of people: journalists, gaffers, women and men--the usual +crowd that come to gape. The citizen Marat was a great personage. The +Friend of the People. An Incorruptible, if ever there was one. Just look +at the simplicity, almost the poverty, in which he lived! Only the +aristos hated him, and the fat bourgeois who battened on the people. +Citizen Marat had sent hundreds of them to the guillotine with a stroke +of his pen or a denunciation from his fearless tongue. + +Mole did not pause to listen to these comments. He pushed his way +through the throng up the stairs, to his late employer's lodgings on the +first floor. + +The anteroom was crowded, so were the other rooms; but the greatest +pressure was around the door immediately facing him, the one which gave +on the bathroom. In the kitchen on his right, where awhile ago he had +been chopping wood under a flood of abuse from Jeannette Marechal, he +caught sight of this woman, cowering by the hearth, her filthy apron +thrown over her head, and crying--yes! crying for the loathsome +creature, who had expiated some of his abominable crimes at the hands of +a poor, misguided girl, whom an infuriated mob was even now threatening +to tear to pieces in its rage. + +The parlour and even Simonne's room were also filled with people: men, +most of whom Mole knew by sight; friends or enemies of the ranting +demagogue who lay murdered in the very bath which his casual servant had +prepared for him. Every one was discussing the details of the murder, +the punishment of the youthful assassin. Simonne Evrard was being loudly +blamed for having admitted the girl into citizen Marat's room. But the +wench had looked so simple, so innocent, and she said she was the bearer +of a message from Caen. She had called twice during the day, and in the +evening the citizen himself said that he would see her. Simonne had been +for sending her away. But the citizen was peremptory. And he was so +helpless ... in his bath ... name of a name, the pitiable affair! + +No one paid much attention to Mole. He listened for a while to Simonne's +impassioned voice, giving her version of the affair; then he worked his +way stolidly into the bathroom. + +It was some time before he succeeded in reaching the side of that awful +bath wherein lay the dead body of Jean Paul Marat. The small room was +densely packed--not with friends, for there was not a man or woman +living, except Simonne Evrard and her sisters, whom the bloodthirsty +demagogue would have called "friend"; but his powerful personality had +been a menace to many, and now they came in crowds to see that he was +really dead, that a girl's feeble hand had actually done the deed which +they themselves had only contemplated. They stood about whispering, +their heads averted from the ghastly spectacle of this miserable +creature, to whom even death had failed to lend his usual attribute of +tranquil dignity. + +The tiny room was inexpressibly hot and stuffy. Hardly a breath of +outside air came in through the narrow window, which only gave on the +bedroom beyond. An evil-smelling oil-lamp swung from the low ceiling and +shed its feeble light on the upturned face of the murdered man. + +Mole stood for a moment or two, silent and pensive, beside that hideous +form. There was the bath, just as he had prepared it: the board spread +over with a sheet and laid across the bath, above which only the head +and shoulders emerged, livid and stained. One hand, the left, grasped +the edge of the board with the last convulsive clutch of supreme agony. + +On the fourth finger of that hand glistened the shoddy ring which Marat +had said was not worth stealing. Yet, apparently, it roused the cupidity +of the poor wretch who had served him faithfully for these last few +days, and who now would once more be thrown, starving and friendless, +upon the streets of Paris. + +Mole threw a quick, furtive glance around him. The crowd which had come +to gloat over the murdered Terrorist stood about whispering, with heads +averted, engrossed in their own affairs. He slid his hand +surreptitiously over that of the dead man. With dexterous manipulation +he lifted the finger round which glistened the metal ring. Death +appeared to have shrivelled the flesh still more upon the bones, to have +contracted the knuckles and shrunk the tendons. The ring slid off quite +easily. Mole had it in his hand, when suddenly a rough blow struck him +on the shoulder. + +"Trying to rob the dead?" a stern voice shouted in his ear. "Are you a +disguised aristo, or what?" + +At once the whispering ceased. A wave of excitement went round the room. +Some people shouted, others pressed forward to gaze on the abandoned +wretch who had been caught in the act of committing a gruesome deed. + +"Robbing the dead!" + +They were experts in evil, most of these men here. Their hands were +indelibly stained with some of the foulest crimes ever recorded in +history. But there was something ghoulish in this attempt to plunder +that awful thing lying there, helpless, in the water. There was also a +great relief to nerve-tension in shouting Horror and Anathema with +self-righteous indignation; and additional excitement in the suggested +"aristo in disguise." + +Mole struggled vigorously. He was powerful and his fists were heavy. But +he was soon surrounded, held fast by both arms, whilst half a dozen +hands tore at his tattered clothes, searched him to his very skin, for +the booty which he was thought to have taken from the dead. + +"Leave me alone, curse you!" he shouted, louder than his aggressors. "My +name is Paul Mole, I tell you. Ask the citizeness Evrard. I waited on +citizen Marat. I prepared his bath. I was the only friend who did not +turn away from him in his sickness and his poverty. Leave me alone, I +say! Why," he added, with a hoarse laugh, "Jean Paul in his bath was as +naked as on the day he was born!" + +"'Tis true," said one of those who had been most active in rummaging +through Mole's grimy rags. "There's nothing to be found on him." + +But suspicion once aroused was not easily allayed. Mole's protestations +became more and more vigorous and emphatic. His papers were all in +order, he vowed. He had them on him: his own identity papers, clear for +anyone to see. Someone had dragged them out of his pocket; they were +dank and covered with splashes of mud--hardly legible. They were handed +over to a man who stood in the immediate circle of light projected by +the lamp. He seized them and examined them carefully. This man was short +and slight, was dressed in well-made cloth clothes; his hair was held in +at the nape of the next in a modish manner with a black taffeta bow. His +hands were clean, slender, and claw-like, and he wore the tricolour +scarf of office round his waist which proclaimed him to be a member of +one of the numerous Committees which tyrannised over the people. + +The papers appeared to be in order, and proclaimed the bearer to be Paul +Mole, a native of Besancon, a carpenter by trade. The identity book had +recently been signed by Jean Paul Marat, the man's latest employer, and +been counter-signed by the Commissary of the section. + +The man in the tricolour scarf turned with some acerbity on the crowd +who was still pressing round the prisoner. + +"Which of you here," he queried roughly, "levelled an unjust accusation +against an honest citizen?" + +But, as usual in such cases, no one replied directly to the charge. It +was not safe these days to come into conflict with men like Mole. The +Committees were all on their side, against the bourgeois as well as +against the aristos. This was the reign of the proletariat, and the +sans-culotte always emerged triumphant in a conflict against the +well-to-do. Nor was it good to rouse the ire of citizen Chauvelin, one +of the most powerful, as he was the most pitiless members of the +Committee of Public Safety. Quiet, sarcastic rather than aggressive, +something of the aristo, too, in his clean linen and well-cut clothes, +he had not even yielded to the defunct Marat in cruelty and relentless +persecution of aristocrats. + +Evidently his sympathies now were all with Mole, the out-at-elbows, +miserable servant of an equally miserable master. His pale-coloured, +deep-set eyes challenged the crowd, which gave way before him, slunk +back into the corners, away from his coldly threatening glance. Thus he +found himself suddenly face to face with Mole, somewhat isolated from +the rest, and close to the tin bath with its grim contents. Chauvelin +had the papers in his hand. + +"Take these, citizen," he said curtly to the other. "They are all in +order." + +He looked up at Mole as he said this, for the latter, though his +shoulders were bent, was unusually tall, and Mole took the papers from +him. Thus for the space of a few seconds the two men looked into one +another's face, eyes to eyes--and suddenly Chauvelin felt an icy sweat +coursing down his spine. The eyes into which he gazed had a strange, +ironical twinkle in them, a kind of good-humoured arrogance, whilst +through the firm, clear-cut lips, half hidden by a dirty and ill-kempt +beard, there came the sound--oh! a mere echo--of a quaint and inane +laugh. + +The whole thing--it seemed like a vision--was over in a second. +Chauvelin, sick and faint with the sudden rush of blood to his head, +closed his eyes for one brief instant. The next, the crowd had closed +round him; anxious inquiries reached his re-awakened senses. + +But he uttered one quick, hoarse cry: + +"Hebert! A moi! Are you there?" + +"Present, citizen!" came in immediate response. And a tall figure in the +tattered uniform affected by the revolutionary guard stepped briskly out +of the crowd. Chauvelin's claw-like hand was shaking visibly. + +"The man Mole," he called in a voice husky with excitement. "Seize him +at once! And, name of a dog! do not allow a living soul in or out of the +house!" + +Hebert turned on his heel. The next moment his harsh voice was heard +above the din and the general hubbub around: + +"Quite safe, citizen!" he called to his chief. "We have the rogue right +enough!" + +There was much shouting and much cursing, a great deal of bustle and +confusion, as the men of the Surete closed the doors of the defunct +demagogue's lodgings. Some two score men, a dozen or so women, were +locked in, inside the few rooms which reeked of dirt and of disease. +They jostled and pushed, screamed and protested. For two or three +minutes the din was quite deafening. Simonne Evrard pushed her way up to +the forefront of the crowd. + +"What is this I hear?" she queried peremptorily. "Who is accusing +citizen Mole? And of what, I should like to know? I am responsible for +everyone inside these apartments ... and if citizen Marat were still +alive--" + +Chauvelin appeared unaware of all the confusion and of the woman's +protestations. He pushed his way through the crowd to the corner of the +anteroom where Mole stood, crouching and hunched up, his grimy hands +idly fingering the papers which Chauvelin had returned to him a moment +ago. Otherwise he did not move. + +He stood, silent and sullen; and when Chauvelin, who had succeeded in +mastering his emotion, gave the peremptory command: "Take this man to +the depot at once. And do not allow him one instant out of your sight!" +he made no attempt at escape. + +He allowed Hebert and the men to seize him, to lead him away. He +followed without a word, without a struggle. His massive figure was +hunched up like that of an old man; his hands, which still clung to his +identity papers, trembled slightly like those of a man who is very +frightened and very helpless. The men of the Surete handled him very +roughly, but he made no protest. The woman Evrard did all the +protesting, vowing that the people would not long tolerate such tyranny. +She even forced her way up to Hebert. With a gesture of fury she tried +to strike him in the face, and continued, with a loud voice, her insults +and objurgations, until, with a movement of his bayonet, he pushed her +roughly out of the way. + +After that Paul Mole, surrounded by the guard, was led without ceremony +out of the house. Chauvelin gazed after him as if he had been brought +face to face with a ghoul. + + +V + +Chauvelin hurried to the depot. After those few seconds wherein he had +felt dazed, incredulous, almost under a spell, he had quickly regained +the mastery of his nerves, and regained, too, that intense joy which +anticipated triumph is wont to give. + +In the out-at-elbows, half-starved servant of the murdered Terrorist, +citizen Chauvelin, of the Committee of Public Safety, had recognised his +arch enemy, that meddlesome and adventurous Englishman who chose to hide +his identity under the pseudonym of the Scarlet Pimpernel. He knew that +he could reckon on Hebert; his orders not to allow the prisoner one +moment out of sight would of a certainty be strictly obeyed. + +Hebert, indeed, a few moments later, greeted his chief outside the doors +of the depot with the welcome news that Paul Mole was safely under lock +and key. + +"You had no trouble with him?" Chauvelin queried, with ill-concealed +eagerness. + +"No, no! citizen, no trouble," was Hebert's quick reply. "He seems to be +a well-known rogue in these parts," he continued with a complacent +guffaw; "and some of his friends tried to hustle us at the corner of the +Rue de Tourraine; no doubt with a view to getting the prisoner away. But +we were too strong for them, and Paul Mole is now sulking in his cell +and still protesting that his arrest is an outrage against the liberty +of the people." + +Chauvelin made no further remark. He was obviously too excited to speak. +Pushing past Hebert and the men of the Surete who stood about the dark +and narrow passages of the depot, he sought the Commissary of the +Section in the latter's office. + +It was now close upon ten o'clock. The citizen Commissary Cuisinier had +finished his work for the day and was preparing to go home and to bed. +He was a family man, had been a respectable bourgeois in his day, and +though he was a rank opportunist and had sacrificed not only his +political convictions but also his conscience to the exigencies of the +time, he still nourished in his innermost heart a secret contempt for +the revolutionary brigands who ruled over France at this hour. + +To any other man than citizen Chauvelin, the citizen Commissary would, +no doubt, have given a curt refusal to a request to see a prisoner at +this late hour of the evening. But Chauvelin was not a man to be denied, +and whilst muttering various objections in his ill-kempt beard, +Cuisinier, nevertheless, gave orders that the citizen was to be +conducted at once to the cells. + +Paul Mole had in truth turned sulky. The turnkey vowed that the prisoner +had hardly stirred since first he had been locked up in the common cell. +He sat in a corner at the end of the bench, with his face turned to the +wall, and paid no heed either to his fellow-prisoners or to the +facetious remarks of the warder. + +Chauvelin went up to him, made some curt remark. Mole kept an obstinate +shoulder turned towards him--a grimy shoulder, which showed naked +through a wide rent in his blouse. This portion of the cell was +well-nigh in total darkness; the feeble shaft of light which came +through the open door hardly penetrated to this remote angle of the +squalid burrow. The same sense of mystery and unreality overcame +Chauvelin again as he looked on the miserable creature in whom, an hour +ago, he had recognised the super-exquisite Sir Percy Blakeney. Now he +could only see a vague outline in the gloom: the stooping shoulders, the +long limbs, that naked piece of shoulder which caught a feeble reflex +from the distant light. Nor did any amount of none too gentle prodding +on the part of the warder induce him to change his position. + +"Leave him alone," said Chauvelin curly at last. "I have seen all that I +wished to see." + +The cell was insufferably hot and stuffy. Chauvelin, finical and queasy, +turned away with a shudder of disgust. There was nothing to be got now +out of a prolonged interview with his captured foe. He had seen him: +that was sufficient. He had seen the super-exquisite Sir Percy Blakeney +locked up in a common cell with some of the most scrubby and abject +rogues which the slums of indigent Paris could yield, having apparently +failed in some undertaking which had demanded for its fulfilment not +only tattered clothes and grimy hands, but menial service with a +beggarly and disease-ridden employer, whose very propinquity must have +been positive torture to the fastidious dandy. + +Of a truth this was sufficient for the gratification of any revenge. +Chauvelin felt that he could now go contentedly to rest after an +evening's work excellently done. + +He gave order that Mole should be put in a separate cell, denied all +intercourse with anyone outside or in the depot, and that he should be +guarded on sight day and night. After that he went his way. + + +VI + +The following morning citizen Chauvelin, of the Committee of Public +Safety, gave due notice to citizen Fouquier-Tinville, the Public +Prosecutor, that the dangerous English spy, known to the world as the +Scarlet Pimpernel, was now safely under lock and key, and that he must +be transferred to the Abbaye prison forthwith and to the guillotine as +quickly as might be. No one was to take any risks this time; there must +be no question either of discrediting his famous League or of obtaining +other more valuable information out of him. Such methods had proved +disastrous in the past. + +There were no safe Englishmen these days, except the dead ones, and it +would not take citizen Fouquier-Tinville much thought or time to frame +an indictment against the notorious Scarlet Pimpernel, which would do +away with the necessity of a prolonged trial. The revolutionary +government was at war with England now, and short work could be made of +all poisonous spies. + +By order, therefore, of the Committee of Public Safety, the prisoner, +Paul Mole, was taken out of the cells of the depot and conveyed in a +closed carriage to the Abbaye prison. Chauvelin had the pleasure of +watching this gratifying spectacle from the windows of the Commissariat. +When he saw the closed carriage drive away, with Hebert and two men +inside and two others on the box, he turned to citizen Commissary +Cuisinier with a sigh of intense satisfaction. + +"There goes the most dangerous enemy our glorious revolution has had," +he said, with an accent of triumph which he did not attempt to disguise. + +Cuisinier shrugged his shoulders. + +"Possibly," he retorted curtly. "He did not seem to me to be very +dangerous and his papers were quite in order." + +To this assertion Chauvelin made no reply. Indeed, how could he explain +to this stolid official the subtle workings of an intriguing brain? Had +he himself not had many a proof of how little the forging of identity +papers or of passports troubled the members of that accursed League? Had +he not seen the Scarlet Pimpernel, that exquisite Sir Percy Blakeney, +under disguises that were so grimy and so loathsome that they would have +repelled the most abject, suborned spy? + +Indeed, all that was wanted now was the assurance that Hebert--who +himself had a deadly and personal grudge against the Scarlet +Pimpernel--would not allow him for one moment out of his sight. + +Fortunately as to this, there was no fear. One hint to Hebert and the +man was as keen, as determined, as Chauvelin himself. + +"Set your mind at rest, citizen," he said with a rough oath. "I guessed +how matters stood the moment you gave me the order. I knew you would not +take all that trouble for a real Paul Mole. But have no fear! That +accursed Englishman has not been one second out of my sight, from the +moment I arrested him in the late citizen Marat's lodgings, and by +Satan! he shall not be either, until I have seen his impudent head fall +under the guillotine." + +He himself, he added, had seen to the arrangements for the disposal of +the prisoner in the Abbaye: an inner cell, partially partitioned off in +one of the guard-rooms, with no egress of its own, and only a tiny +grated air-hole high up in the wall, which gave on an outside corridor, +and through which not even a cat could manage to slip. Oh! the prisoner +was well guarded! The citizen Representative need, of a truth, have no +fear! Three or four men--of the best and most trustworthy--had not left +the guard-room since the morning. He himself (Hebert) had kept the +accursed Englishman in sight all night, had personally conveyed him to +the Abbaye, and had only left the guard-room a moment ago in order to +speak with the citizen Representative. He was going back now at once, +and would not move until the order came for the prisoner to be conveyed +to the Court of Justice and thence to summary execution. + +For the nonce, Hebert concluded with a complacent chuckle, the +Englishman was still crouching dejectedly in a corner of his new cell, +with little of him visible save that naked shoulder through his torn +shirt, which, in the process of transference from one prison to another, +had become a shade more grimy than before. + +Chauvelin nodded, well satisfied. He commended Hebert for his zeal, +rejoiced with him over the inevitable triumph. It would be well to +avenge that awful humiliation at Calais last September. Nevertheless, he +felt anxious and nervy; he could not comprehend the apathy assumed by +the factitious Mole. That the apathy was assumed Chauvelin was keen +enough to guess. What it portended he could not conjecture. But that the +Englishman would make a desperate attempt at escape was, of course, a +foregone conclusion. It rested with Hebert and a guard that could +neither be bribed nor fooled into treachery, to see that such an attempt +remained abortive. + +What, however, had puzzled citizen Chauvelin all along was the motive +which had induced Sir Percy Blakeney to play the role of menial to Jean +Paul Marat. Behind it there lay, undoubtedly, one of those subtle +intrigues for which that insolent Scarlet Pimpernel was famous; and with +it was associated an attempt at theft upon the murdered body of the +demagogue ... an attempt which had failed, seeing that the +supposititious Paul Mole had been searched and nothing suspicious been +found upon his person. + +Nevertheless, thoughts of that attempted theft disturbed Chauvelin's +equanimity. The old legend of the crumpled roseleaf was applicable in +his case. Something of his intense satisfaction would pale if this final +enterprise of the audacious adventurer were to be brought to a +triumphant close in the end. + + +VII + +That same forenoon, on his return from the Abbaye and the depot, +Chauvelin found that a visitor was waiting for him. A woman, who gave +her name as Jeannette Marechal, desired to speak with the citizen +Representative. Chauvelin knew the woman as his colleague Marat's +maid-of-all-work, and he gave orders that she should be admitted at +once. + +Jeannette Marechal, tearful and not a little frightened, assured the +citizen Representative that her errand was urgent. Her late employer had +so few friends; she did not know to whom to turn until she bethought +herself of citizen Chauvelin. It took him some little time to +disentangle the tangible facts out of the woman's voluble narrative. At +first the words: "Child ... Chemin de Pantin ... Leridan," were only a +medley of sounds which conveyed no meaning to his ear. But when occasion +demanded, citizen Chauvelin was capable of infinite patience. Gradually +he understood what the woman was driving at. + +"The child, citizen!" she reiterated excitedly. "What's to be done about +him? I know that citizen Marat would have wished--" + +"Never mind now what citizen Marat would have wished," Chauvelin broke +in quietly. "Tell me first who this child is." + +"I do not know, citizen," she replied. + +"How do you mean, you do not know? Then I pray you, citizeness, what is +all this pother about?" + +"About the child, citizen," reiterated Jeannette obstinately. + +"What child?" + +"The child whom citizen Marat adopted last year and kept at that awful +house on the Chemin de Pantin." + +"I did not know citizen Marat had adopted a child," remarked Chauvelin +thoughtfully. + +"No one knew," she rejoined. "Not even citizeness Evrard. I was the only +one who knew. I had to go and see the child once every month. It was a +wretched, miserable brat," the woman went on, her shrivelled old breast +vaguely stirred, mayhap, by some atrophied feeling of motherhood. "More +than half-starved ... and the look in its eyes, citizen! It was enough +to make you cry! I could see by his poor little emaciated body and his +nice little hands and feet that he ought never to have been put in that +awful house, where--" + +She paused, and that quick look of furtive terror, which was so often to +be met with in the eyes of the timid these days, crept into her wrinkled +face. + +"Well, citizeness," Chauvelin rejoined quietly, "why don't you proceed? +That awful house, you were saying. Where and what is that awful house of +which you speak?" + +"The place kept by citizen Leridan, just by Bassin de l'Ourcq," the +woman murmured. "You know it, citizen." + +Chauvelin nodded. He was beginning to understand. + +"Well, now, tell me," he said, with that bland patience which had so oft +served him in good stead in his unavowable profession. "Tell me. Last +year citizen Marat adopted--we'll say adopted--a child, whom he placed +in the Leridans' house on the Pantin road. Is that correct?" + +"That is just how it is, citizen. And I--" + +"One moment," he broke in somewhat more sternly, as the woman's +garrulity was getting on his nerves. "As you say, I know the Leridans' +house. I have had cause to send children there myself. Children of +aristos or of fat bourgeois, whom it was our duty to turn into good +citizens. They are not pampered there, I imagine," he went on drily; +"and if citizen Marat sent his--er--adopted son there, it was not with a +view to having him brought up as an aristo, what?" + +"The child was not to be brought up at all," the woman said gruffly. "I +have often heard citizen Marat say that he hoped the brat would prove a +thief when he grew up, and would take to alcoholism like a duck takes to +water." + +"And you know nothing of the child's parents?" + +"Nothing, citizen. I had to go to Pantin once a month and have a look at +him and report to citizen Marat. But I always had the same tale to tell. +The child was looking more and more like a young reprobate every time I +saw him." + +"Did citizen Marat pay the Leridans for keeping the child?" + +"Oh, no, citizen! The Leridans make a trade of the children by sending +them out to beg. But this one was not to be allowed out yet. Citizen +Marat's orders were very stern, and he was wont to terrify the Leridans +with awful threats of the guillotine if they ever allowed the child out +of their sight." + +Chauvelin sat silent for a while. A ray of light had traversed the dark +and tortuous ways of his subtle brain. While he mused the woman became +impatient. She continued to talk on with the volubility peculiar to her +kind. He paid no heed to her, until one phrase struck his ear. + +"So now," Jeannette Marechal was saying, "I don't know what to do. The +ring has disappeared, and the Leridans are suspicious." + +"The ring?" queried Chauvelin curtly. "What ring?" + +"As I was telling you, citizen," she replied querulously, "when I went +to see the child, the citizen Marat always gave me this ring to show to +the Leridans. Without I brought the ring they would not admit me inside +their door. They were so terrified with all the citizen's threats of the +guillotine." + +"And now you say the ring has disappeared. Since when?" + +"Well, citizen," replied Jeannette blandly, "since you took poor Paul +Mole into custody." + +"What do you mean?" Chauvelin riposted. "What had Paul Mole to do with +the child and the ring?" + +"Only this, citizen, that he was to have gone to Pantin last night +instead of me. And thankful I was not to have to go. Citizen Marat gave +the ring to Mole, I suppose. I know he intended to give it to him. He +spoke to me about it just before that execrable woman came and murdered +him. Anyway, the ring has gone and Mole too. So I imagine that Mole has +the ring and--" + +"That's enough!" Chauvelin broke in roughly. "You can go!" + +"But, citizen--" + +"You can go, I said," he reiterated sharply. "The matter of the child +and the Leridans and the ring no longer concerns you. You understand?" + +"Y--y--yes, citizen," murmured Jeannette, vaguely terrified. + +And of a truth the change in citizen Chauvelin's demeanour was enough to +scare any timid creature. Not that he raved or ranted or screamed. Those +were not his ways. He still sat beside his desk as he had done before, +and his slender hand, so like the talons of a vulture, was clenched upon +the arm of his chair. But there was such a look of inward fury and of +triumph in his pale, deep-set eyes, such lines of cruelty around his +thin, closed lips, that Jeannette Marechal, even with the picture before +her mind of Jean Paul Marat in his maddest moods, fled, with the +unreasoning terror of her kind, before the sternly controlled, fierce +passion of this man. + +Chauvelin never noticed that she went. He sat for a long time, silent +and immovable. Now he understood. Thank all the Powers of Hate and +Revenge, no thought of disappointment was destined to embitter the +overflowing cup of his triumph. He had not only brought his arch-enemy +to his knees, but had foiled one of his audacious ventures. How clear +the whole thing was! The false Paul Mole, the newly acquired menial in +the household of Marat, had wormed himself into the confidence of his +employer in order to wrest from him the secret of the aristo's child. +Bravo! bravo! my gallant Scarlet Pimpernel! Chauvelin now could see it +all. Tragedies such as that which had placed an aristo's child in the +power of a cunning demon like Marat were not rare these days, and +Chauvelin had been fitted by nature and by temperament to understand and +appreciate an execrable monster of the type of Jean Paul Marat. + +And Paul Mole, the grimy, degraded servant of the indigent demagogue, +the loathsome mask which hid the fastidious personality of Sir Percy +Blakeney, had made a final and desperate effort to possess himself of +the ring which would deliver the child into his power. Now, having +failed in his machinations, he was safe under lock and key--guarded on +sight. The next twenty-four hours would see him unmasked, awaiting his +trial and condemnation under the scathing indictment prepared by +Fouquier-Tinville, the unerring Public Prosecutor. The day after that, +the tumbril and the guillotine for that execrable English spy, and the +boundless sense of satisfaction that his last intrigue had aborted in +such a signal and miserable manner. + +Of a truth Chauvelin at this hour had every cause to be thankful, and it +was with a light heart that he set out to interview the Leridans. + + +VIII + +The Leridans, anxious, obsequious, terrified, were only too ready to +obey the citizen Representative in all things. + +They explained with much complacency that, even though they were +personally acquainted with Jeannette Marechal, when the citizeness +presented herself this very morning without the ring they had refused +her permission to see the brat. + +Chauvelin, who in his own mind had already reconstructed the whole +tragedy of the stolen child, was satisfied that Marat could not have +chosen more efficient tools for the execution of his satanic revenge +than these two hideous products of revolutionary Paris. + +Grasping, cowardly, and avaricious, the Leridans would lend themselves +to any abomination for a sufficiency of money; but no money on earth +would induce them to risk their own necks in the process. Marat had +obviously held them by threats of the guillotine. They knew the power of +the "Friend of the People," and feared him accordingly. Chauvelin's +scarf of office, his curt, authoritative manner, had an equally +awe-inspiring effect upon the two miserable creatures. They became +absolutely abject, cringing, maudlin in their protestations of good-will +and loyalty. No one, they vowed, should as much as see the child--ring +or no ring--save the citizen Representative himself. Chauvelin, however, +had no wish to see the child. He was satisfied that its name was +Lannoy--for the child had remembered it when first he had been brought +to the Leridans. Since then he had apparently forgotten it, even though +he often cried after his "Maman!" + +Chauvelin listened to all these explanations with some impatience. The +child was nothing to him, but the Scarlet Pimpernel had desired to +rescue it from out of the clutches of the Leridans; had risked his +all--and lost it--in order to effect that rescue! That in itself was a +sufficient inducement for Chauvelin to interest himself in the execution +of Marat's vengeance, whatever its original mainspring may have been. + +At any rate, now he felt satisfied that the child was safe, and that the +Leridans were impervious to threats or bribes which might land them on +the guillotine. + +All that they would own to was to being afraid. + +"Afraid of what?" queried Chauvelin sharply. + +That the brat may be kidnapped ... stolen. Oh! he could not be decoyed +... they were too watchful for that! But apparently there were +mysterious agencies at work.... + +"Mysterious agencies!" Chauvelin laughed aloud at the suggestion. The +"mysterious agency" was even now rotting in an obscure cell at the +Abbaye. What other powers could be at work on behalf of the brat? + +Well, the Leridans had had a warning! + +What warning? + +"A letter," the man said gruffly. "But as neither my wife nor I can +read--" + +"Why did you not speak of this before?" broke in Chauvelin roughly. "Let +me see the letter." + +The woman produced a soiled and dank scrap of paper from beneath her +apron. Of a truth she could not read its contents, for they were writ in +English in the form of a doggerel rhyme which caused Chauvelin to utter +a savage oath. + +"When did this come?" he asked. "And how?" + +"This morning, citizen," the woman mumbled in reply. "I found it outside +the door, with a stone on it to prevent the wind from blowing it away. +What does it mean, citizen?" she went on, her voice shaking with terror, +for of a truth the citizen Representative looked as if he had seen some +weird and unearthly apparition. + +He gave no reply for a moment or two, and the two catiffs had no +conception of the tremendous effort at self-control which was hidden +behind the pale, rigid mask of the redoubtable man. + +"It probably means nothing that you need fear," Chauvelin said quietly +at last. "But I will see the Commissary of the Section myself, and tell +him to send a dozen men of the Surete along to watch your house and be +at your beck and call if need be. Then you will feel quite safe, I +hope." + +"Oh, yes! quite safe, citizen!" the woman replied with a sigh of genuine +relief. Then only did Chauvelin turn on his heel and go his way. + + +IX + +But that crumpled and soiled scrap of paper given to him by the woman +Leridan still lay in his clenched hand as he strode back rapidly +citywards. It seemed to scorch his palm. Even before he had glanced at +the contents he knew what they were. That atrocious English doggerel, +the signature--a five-petalled flower traced in crimson! How well he +knew them! + +"We seek him here, we seek him there!" + +The most humiliating moments in Chauvelin's career were associated with +that silly rhyme, and now here it was, mocking him even when he knew +that his bitter enemy lay fettered and helpless, caught in a trap, out +of which there was no escape possible; even though he knew for a +positive certainty that the mocking voice which had spoken those rhymes +on that far-off day last September would soon be stilled for ever. + +No doubt one of that army of abominable English spies had placed this +warning outside the Leridans' door. No doubt they had done that with a +view to throwing dust in the eyes of the Public Prosecutor and causing a +confusion in his mind with regard to the identity of the prisoner at the +Abbaye, all to the advantage of their chief. + +The thought that such a confusion might exist, that Fouquier-Tinville +might be deluded into doubting the real personality of Paul Mole, +brought an icy sweat all down Chauvelin's spine. He hurried along the +interminably long Chemin de Pantin, only paused at the Barriere du +Combat in order to interview the Commissary of the Section on the matter +of sending men to watch over the Leridans' house. Then, when he felt +satisfied that this would be effectively and quickly done, an +unconquerable feeling of restlessness prompted him to hurry round to the +lodgings of the Public Prosecutor in the Rue Blanche--just to see him, +to speak with him, to make quite sure. + +Oh! he must be sure that no doubts, no pusillanimity on the part of any +official would be allowed to stand in the way of the consummation of all +his most cherished dreams. Papers or no papers, testimony or no +testimony, the incarcerated Paul Mole was the Scarlet Pimpernel--of this +Chauvelin was as certain as that he was alive. His every sense had +testified to it when he stood in the narrow room of the Rue des +Cordeliers, face to face--eyes gazing into eyes--with his sworn enemy. + +Unluckily, however, he found the Public Prosecutor in a surly and +obstinate mood, following on an interview which he had just had with +citizen Commissary Cuisinier on the matter of the prisoner Paul Mole. + +"His papers are all in order, I tell you," he said impatiently, in +answer to Chauvelin's insistence. "It is as much as my head is worth to +demand a summary execution." + +"But I tell you that, those papers of his are forged," urged Chauvelin +forcefully. + +"They are not," retorted the other. "The Commissary swears to his own +signature on the identity book. The concierge at the Abbaye swears that +he knows Mole, so do all the men of the Surete who have seen him. The +Commissary has known him as an indigent, good-for-nothing lubbard who +has begged his way in the streets of Paris ever since he was released +from gaol some months ago, after he had served a term for larceny. Even +your own man Hebert admits to feeling doubtful on the point. You have +had the nightmare, citizen," concluded Fouquier-Tinville with a harsh +laugh. + +"But, name of a dog!" broke in Chauvelin savagely. "You are not +proposing to let the man go?" + +"What else can I do?" the other rejoined fretfully. "We shall get into +terrible trouble if we interfere with a man like Paul Mole. You know +yourself how it is these days. We should have the whole of the rabble of +Paris clamouring for our blood. If, after we have guillotined him, he is +proved to be a good patriot, it will be my turn next. No! I thank you!" + +"I tell you, man," retorted Chauvelin desperately, "that the man is not +Paul Mole--that he is the English spy whom we all know as the Scarlet +Pimpernel." + +"EH BIEN!" riposted Fouquier-Tinville. "Bring me more tangible proof +that our prisoner is not Paul Mole and I'll deal with him quickly +enough, never fear. But if by to-morrow morning you do not satisfy me on +the point ... I must let him go his way." + +A savage oath rose to Chauvelin's lips. He felt like a man who has been +running, panting to reach a goal, who sees that goal within easy +distance of him, and is then suddenly captured, caught in invisible +meshes which hold him tightly, and against which he is powerless to +struggle. For the moment he hated Fouquier-Tinville with a deadly +hatred, would have tortured and threatened him until he wrung a consent, +an admission, out of him. + +Name of a name! when that damnable English spy was actually in his +power, the man was a pusillanimous fool to allow the rich prize to slip +from his grasp! Chauvelin felt as if he were choking; his slender +fingers worked nervily around his cravat; beads of perspiration trickled +unheeded down his pallid forehead. + +Then suddenly he had an inspiration--nothing less! It almost seemed as +if Satan, his friend, had whispered insinuating words into his ear. That +scrap of paper! He had thrust it awhile ago into the breast pocket of +his coat. It was still there, and the Public Prosecutor wanted a +tangible proof.... Then, why not....? + +Slowly, his thoughts still in the process of gradual coordination, +Chauvelin drew that soiled scrap of paper out of his pocket. +Fouquier-Tinville, surly and ill-humoured, had his back half-turned +towards him, was moodily picking at his teeth. Chauvelin had all the +leisure which he required. He smoothed out the creases in the paper and +spread it out carefully upon the desk close to the other man's elbow. +Fouquier-Tinville looked down on it, over his shoulder. + +"What is that?" he queried. + +"As you see, citizen," was Chauvelin's bland reply. "A message, such as +you yourself have oft received, methinks, from our mutual enemy, the +Scarlet Pimpernel." + +But already the Public Prosecutor had seized upon the paper, and of a +truth Chauvelin had no longer cause to complain of his colleague's +indifference. That doggerel rhyme, no less than the signature, had the +power to rouse Fouquier-Tinville's ire, as it had that of disturbing +Chauvelin's well-studied calm. + +"What is it?" reiterated the Public Prosecutor, white now to the lips. + +"I have told you, citizen," rejoined Chauvelin imperturbably. "A message +from that English spy. It is also the proof which you have demanded of +me--the tangible proof that the prisoner, Paul Mole, is none other than +the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"But," ejaculated the other hoarsely, "where did you get this?" + +"It was found in the cell which Paul Mole occupied in the depot of the +Rue de Tourraine, where he was first incarcerated. I picked it up there +after he was removed ... the ink was scarcely dry upon it." + +The lie came quite glibly to Chauvelin's tongue. Was not every method +good, every device allowable, which would lead to so glorious an end? + +"Why did you not tell me of this before?" queried Fouquier-Tinville, +with a sudden gleam of suspicion in his deep-set eyes. + +"You had not asked me for a tangible proof before," replied Chauvelin +blandly. "I myself was so firmly convinced of what I averred that I had +well-nigh forgotten the existence of this damning scrap of paper." + +Damning indeed! Fouquier-Tinville had seen such scraps of paper before. +He had learnt the doggerel rhyme by heart, even though the English +tongue was quite unfamiliar to him. He loathed the English--the entire +nation--with all that deadly hatred which a divergence of political aims +will arouse in times of acute crises. He hated the English government, +Pitt and Burke and even Fox, the happy-go-lucky apologist of the young +Revolution. But, above all, he hated that League of English spies--as he +was pleased to call them--whose courage, resourcefulness, as well as +reckless daring, had more than once baffled his own hideous schemes of +murder, of pillage, and of rape. + +Thank Beelzebub and his horde of evil spirits, citizen Chauvelin had +been clear-sighted enough to detect that elusive Pimpernel under the +disguise of Paul Mole. + +"You have deserved well of your country," said Tinville with lusty +fervour, and gave Chauvelin a vigorous slap on the shoulder. "But for +you I should have allowed that abominable spy to slip through our +fingers." + +"I have succeeded in convincing you, citizen?" Chauvelin retorted dryly. + +"Absolutely!" rejoined the other. "You may now leave the matter to me. +And 'twill be friend Mole who will be surprised to-morrow," he added +with a harsh guffaw, "when he finds himself face to face with me, before +a Court of Justice." + +He was all eagerness, of course. Such a triumph for him! The indictment +of the notorious Scarlet Pimpernel on a charge of espionage would be the +crowning glory of his career! Let other men look to their laurels! Those +who brought that dangerous enemy of revolution to the guillotine would +for ever be proclaimed as the saviours of France. + +"A short indictment," he said, when Chauvelin, after a lengthy +discussion on various points, finally rose to take his leave, "but a +scathing one! I tell you, citizen Chauvelin, that to-morrow you will be +the first to congratulate me on an unprecedented triumph." + +He had been arguing in favour of a sensational trial and no less +sensational execution. Chauvelin, with his memory harking back on many +mysterious abductions at the very foot of the guillotine, would have +liked to see his elusive enemy quietly put to death amongst a batch of +traitors, who would help to mask his personality until after the +guillotine had fallen, when the whole of Paris should ring with the +triumph of this final punishment of the hated spy. + +In the end, the two friends agreed upon a compromise, and parted well +pleased with the turn of events which a kind Fate had ordered for their +own special benefit. + +X + +Thus satisfied, Chauvelin returned to the Abbaye. Hebert was safe and +trustworthy, but Hebert, too, had been assailed with the same doubts +which had well-nigh wrecked Chauvelin's triumph, and with such doubts in +his mind he might slacken his vigilance. + +Name of a name! every man in charge of that damnable Scarlet Pimpernel +should have three pairs of eyes wherewith to watch his movements. He +should have the alert brain of a Robespierre, the physical strength of a +Danton, the relentlessness of a Marat. He should be a giant in sheer +brute force, a tiger in caution, an elephant in weight, and a mouse in +stealthiness! + +Name of a name! but 'twas only hate that could give such powers to any +man! + +Hebert, in the guard-room, owned to his doubts. His comrades, too, +admitted that after twenty-four hours spent on the watch, their minds +were in a whirl. The Citizen Commissary had been so sure--so was the +chief concierge of the Abbaye even now; and the men of the Surete!... +they themselves had seen the real Mole more than once ... and this man +in the cell.... Well, would the citizen Representative have a final good +look at him? + +"You seem to forget Calais, citizen Hebert," Chauvelin said sharply, +"and the deadly humiliation you suffered then at the hands of this man +who is now your prisoner. Surely your eyes should have been, at least, +as keen as mine own." + +Anxious, irritable, his nerves well-nigh on the rack, he nevertheless +crossed the guard-room with a firm step and entered the cell where the +prisoner was still lying upon the palliasse, as he had been all along, +and still presenting that naked piece of shoulder through the hole in +his shirt. + +"He has been like this the best part of the day," Hebert said with a +shrug of the shoulders. "We put his bread and water right under his +nose. He ate and he drank, and I suppose he slept. But except for a good +deal of swearing, he has not spoken to any of us." + +He had followed his chief into the cell, and now stood beside the +palliasse, holding a small dark lantern in his hand. At a sign from +Chauvelin he flashed the light upon the prisoner's averted head. + +Mole cursed for awhile, and muttered something about "good patriots" and +about "retribution." Then, worried by the light, he turned slowly round, +and with fish-like, bleary eyes looked upon his visitor. + +The words of stinging irony and triumphant sarcasm, all fully prepared, +froze on Chauvelin's lips. He gazed upon the prisoner, and a weird sense +of something unfathomable and mysterious came over him as he gazed. He +himself could not have defined that feeling: the very next moment he was +prepared to ridicule his own cowardice--yes, cowardice! because for a +second or two he had felt positively afraid. + +Afraid of what, forsooth? The man who crouched here in the cell was his +arch-enemy, the Scarlet Pimpernel--the man whom he hated most bitterly +in all the world, the man whose death he desired more than that of any +other living creature. He had been apprehended by the very side of the +murdered man whose confidence he had all but gained. He himself +(Chauvelin) had at that fateful moment looked into the factitious Mole's +eyes, had seen the mockery in them, the lazy insouciance which was the +chief attribute of Sir Percy Blakeney. He had heard a faint echo of that +inane laugh which grated upon his nerves. Hebert had then laid hands +upon this very same man; agents of the Surete had barred every ingress +and egress to the house, had conducted their prisoner straightway to the +depot and thence to the Abbaye, had since that moment guarded him on +sight, by day and by night. Hebert and the other men as well as the +chief warder, all swore to that! + +No, no! There could be no doubt! There was no doubt! The days of magic +were over! A man could not assume a personality other than his own; he +could not fly out of that personality like a bird out of its cage. There +on the palliasse in the miserable cell were the same long limbs, the +broad shoulders, the grimy face with the three days' growth of stubbly +beard--the whole wretched personality of Paul Mole, in fact, which hid +the exquisite one of Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart. And yet!... + +A cold sweat ran down Chauvelin's spine as he gazed, mute and immovable, +into those fish-like, bleary eyes, which were not--no! they were not +those of the real Scarlet Pimpernel. + +The whole situation became dreamlike, almost absurd. Chauvelin was not +the man for such a mock-heroic, melodramatic situation. Commonsense, +reason, his own cool powers of deliberation, would soon reassert +themselves. But for the moment he was dazed. He had worked too hard, no +doubt; had yielded too much to excitement, to triumph, and to hate. He +turned to Hebert, who was standing stolidly by, gave him a few curt +orders in a clear and well-pitched voice. Then he walked out of the +cell, without bestowing another look on the prisoner. + +Mole had once more turned over on his palliasse and, apparently, had +gone to sleep. Hebert, with a strange and puzzled laugh, followed his +chief out of the cell. + +XI + +At first Chauvelin had the wish to go back and see the Public +Prosecutor--to speak with him--to tell him--what? Yes, what? That he, +Chauvelin, had all of a sudden been assailed with the same doubts which +already had worried Hebert and the others?--that he had told a +deliberate lie when he stated that the incriminating doggerel rhyme had +been found in Mole's cell? No, no! Such an admission would not only be +foolish, it would be dangerous now, whilst he himself was scarce +prepared to trust to his own senses. After all, Fouquier-Tinville was in +the right frame of mind for the moment. Paul Mole, whoever he was, was +safely under lock and key. + +The only danger lay in the direction of the house on the Chemin de +Pantin. At the thought Chauvelin felt giddy and faint. But he would +allow himself no rest. Indeed, he could not have rested until something +approaching certainty had once more taken possession of his soul. He +could not--would not--believe that he had been deceived. He was still +prepared to stake his very life on the identity of the prisoner at the +Abbaye. Tricks of light, the flash of the lantern, the perfection of the +disguise, had caused a momentary illusion--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, that awful feeling of restlessness which had possessed him +during the last twenty-four hours once more drove him to activity. And +although commonsense and reason both pulled one way, an eerie sense of +superstition whispered in his ear the ominous words, "If, after all!" + +At any rate, he would see the Leridans, and once more make sure of them; +and, late as was the hour, he set out for the lonely house on the Pantin +Road. + +Just inside the Barriere du Combat was the Poste de Section, where +Commissary Burban was under orders to provide a dozen men of the Surete, +who were to be on the watch round and about the house of the Leridans. +Chauvelin called in on the Commissary, who assured him that the men were +at their post. + +Thus satisfied, he crossed the Barriere and started at a brisk walk down +the long stretch of the Chemin de Pantin. The night was dark. The +rolling clouds overhead hid the face of the moon and presaged the storm. +On the right, the irregular heights of the Buttes Chaumont loomed out +dense and dark against the heavy sky, whilst to the left, on ahead, a +faintly glimmering, greyish streak of reflected light revealed the +proximity of the canal. + +Close to the spot where the main Route de Meux intersects the Chemin de +Pantin, Chauvelin slackened his pace. The house of the Leridans now lay +immediately on his left; from it a small, feeble ray of light, finding +its way no doubt through an ill-closed shutter, pierced the surrounding +gloom. Chauvelin, without hesitation, turned up a narrow track which led +up to the house across a field of stubble. The next moment a peremptory +challenge brought him to a halt. + +"Who goes there?" + +"Public Safety," replied Chauvelin. "Who are you?" + +"Of the Surete," was the counter reply. "There are a dozen of us about +here." + +"When did you arrive?" + +"Some two hours ago. We marched out directly after you left the orders +at the Commissariat." + +"You are prepared to remain on the watch all night?" + +"Those are our orders, citizen," replied the man. + +"You had best close up round the house, then. And, name of a dog!" he +added, with a threatening ring in his voice. "Let there be no slackening +of vigilance this night. No one to go in or out of that house, no one to +approach it under any circumstances whatever. Is that understood?" + +"Those were our orders from the first, citizen," said the man simply. + +"And all has been well up to now?" + +"We have seen no one, citizen." + +The little party closed in around their chief and together they marched +up to the house. Chauvelin, on tenterhooks, walked quicker than the +others. He was the first to reach the door. Unable to find the bell-pull +in the dark, he knocked vigorously. + +The house appeared silent and wrapped in sleep. No light showed from +within save that one tiny speck through the cracks of an ill-fitting +shutter, in a room immediately overhead. + +In response to Chauvelin's repeated summons, there came anon the sound +of someone moving in one of the upstairs rooms, and presently the light +overhead disappeared, whilst a door above was heard to open and to close +and shuffling footsteps to come slowly down the creaking stairs. + +A moment or two later the bolts and bars of the front door were +unfastened, a key grated in the rusty lock, a chain rattled in its +socket, and then the door was opened slowly and cautiously. + +The woman Leridan appeared in the doorway. She held a guttering tallow +candle high above her head. Its flickering light illumined Chauvelin's +slender figure. + +"Ah! the citizen Representative!" the woman ejaculated, as soon as she +recognised him. "We did not expect you again to-day, and at this late +hour, too. I'll tell my man--" + +"Never mind your man," broke in Chauvelin impatiently, and pushed +without ceremony past the woman inside the house. "The child? Is it +safe?" + +He could scarcely control his excitement. There was a buzzing, as of an +angry sea, in his ears. The next second, until the woman spoke, seemed +like a cycle of years. + +"Quite safe, citizen," she said placidly. "Everything is quite safe. We +were so thankful for those men of the Surete. We had been afraid before, +as I told the citizen Representative, and my man and I could not rest +for anxiety. It was only after they came that we dared go to bed." + +A deep sigh of intense relief came from the depths of Chauvelin's heart. +He had not realised himself until this moment how desperately anxious he +had been. The woman's reassuring words appeared to lift a crushing +weight from his mind. He turned to the man behind him. + +"You did not tell me," he said, "that some of you had been here +already." + +"We have not been here before," the sergeant in charge of the little +platoon said in reply. "I do not know what the woman means." + +"Some of your men came about three hours ago," the woman retorted; "less +than an hour after the citizen Representative was here. I remember that +my man and I marvelled how quickly they did come, but they said that +they had been on duty at the Barriere du Combat when the citizen +arrived, and that he had dispatched them off at once. They said they had +run all the way. But even so, we thought it was quick work--" + +The words were smothered in her throat in a cry of pain, for, with an +almost brutal gesture, Chauvelin had seized her by the shoulders. + +"Where are those men?" he queried hoarsely. "Answer!" + +"In there, and in there," the woman stammered, well-nigh faint with +terror as she pointed to two doors, one on each side of the passage. +"Three in each room. They are asleep now, I should say, as they seem so +quiet. But they were an immense comfort to us, citizen ... we were so +thankful to have them in the house...." + +But Chauvelin had snatched the candle from her hand. Holding it high +above his head, he strode to the door on the right of the passage. It +was ajar. He pushed it open with a vicious kick. The room beyond was in +total darkness. + +"Is anyone here?" he queried sharply. + +Nothing but silence answered him. For a moment he remained there on the +threshold, silent and immovable as a figure carved in stone. He had just +a sufficiency of presence of mind and of will power not to drop the +candle, to stand there motionless, with his back turned to the woman and +to the men who had crowded in, in his wake. He would not let them see +the despair, the rage and grave superstitious fear, which distorted +every line of his pallid face. + +He did not ask about the child. He would not trust himself to speak, for +he had realised already how completely he had been baffled. Those +abominable English spies had watched their opportunity, had worked on +the credulity and the fears of the Leridans and, playing the game at +which they and their audacious chief were such unconquerable experts, +they had made their way into the house under a clever ruse. + +The men of the Surete, not quite understanding the situation, were +questioning the Leridans. The man, too, corroborated his wife's story. +Their anxiety had been worked upon at the moment that it was most acute. +After the citizen Representative left them, earlier in the evening, they +had received another mysterious message which they had been unable to +read, but which had greatly increased their alarm. Then, when the men of +the Surete came.... Ah! they had no cause to doubt that they were men of +the Surete!... their clothes, their speech, their appearance ... figure +to yourself, even their uniforms! They spoke so nicely, so reassuringly. +The Leridans were so thankful to see them! Then they made themselves +happy in the two rooms below, and for additional safety the Lannoy child +was brought down from its attic and put to sleep in the one room with +the men of the Surete. + +After that the Leridans went to bed. Name of a dog! how were they to +blame? Those men and the child had disappeared, but they (the Leridans) +would go to the guillotine swearing that they were not to blame. + +Whether Chauvelin heard all these jeremiads, he could not afterwards +have told you. But he did not need to be told how it had all been done. +It had all been so simple, so ingenious, so like the methods usually +adopted by that astute Scarlet Pimpernel! He saw it all so clearly +before him. Nobody was to blame really, save he himself--he, who alone +knew and understood the adversary with whom he had to deal. + +But these people here should not have the gratuitous spectacle of a man +enduring the torments of disappointment and of baffled revenge. Whatever +Chauvelin was suffering now would for ever remain the secret of his own +soul. Anon, when the Leridans' rasping voices died away in one of the +more distant portions of the house and the men of the Surete were busy +accepting refreshment and gratuity from the two terrified wretches, he +had put down the candle with a steady hand and then walked with a firm +step out of the house. + +Soon the slender figure was swallowed up in the gloom as he strode back +rapidly towards the city. + +XII + +Citizen Fouquier-Tinville had returned home from the Palais at a very +late hour that same evening. His household in his simple lodgings in the +Place Dauphine was already abed: his wife and the twins were asleep. He +himself had sat down for a moment in the living-room, in dressing-gown +and slippers, and with the late edition of the Moniteur in his hand, too +tired to read. + +It was half-past ten when there came a ring at the front door bell. +Fouquier-Tinville, half expecting citizen Chauvelin to pay him a final +visit, shuffled to the door and opened it. + +A visitor, tall, well-dressed, exceedingly polite and urbane, requested +a few minutes' conversation with citizen Fouquier-Tinville. + +Before the Public Prosecutor had made up his mind whether to introduce +such a late-comer into his rooms, the latter had pushed his way through +the door into the ante-chamber, and with a movement as swift as it was +unexpected, had thrown a scarf round Fouquier-Tinville's neck and wound +it round his mouth, so that the unfortunate man's call for help was +smothered in his throat. + +So dexterously and so rapidly indeed had the miscreant acted, that his +victim had hardly realised the assault before he found himself securely +gagged and bound to a chair in his own ante-room, whilst that dare-devil +stood before him, perfectly at his ease, his hands buried in the +capacious pockets of his huge caped coat, and murmuring a few casual +words of apology. + +"I entreat you to forgive, citizen," he was saying in an even and +pleasant voice, "this necessary violence on my part towards you. But my +errand is urgent, and I could not allow your neighbours or your +household to disturb the few minutes' conversation which I am obliged to +have with you. My friend Paul Mole," he went on, after a slight pause, +"is in grave danger of his life owing to a hallucination on the part of +our mutual friend citizen Chauvelin; and I feel confident that you +yourself are too deeply enamoured of your own neck to risk it wilfully +by sending an innocent and honest patriot to the guillotine." + +Once more he paused and looked down upon his unwilling interlocutor, +who, with muscles straining against the cords that held him, and with +eyes nearly starting out of their sockets in an access of fear and of +rage, was indeed presenting a pitiful spectacle. + +"I dare say that by now, citizen," the brigand continued imperturbably, +"you will have guessed who I am. You and I have oft crossed invisible +swords before; but this, methinks, is the first time that we have met +face to face. I pray you, tell my dear friend M. Chauvelin that you have +seen me. Also that there were two facts which he left entirely out of +his calculations, perfect though these were. The one fact was that there +were two Paul Moles--one real and one factitious. Tell him that, I pray +you. It was the factitious Paul Mole who stole the ring and who stood +for one moment gazing into clever citizen Chauvelin's eyes. But that +same factitious Paul Mole had disappeared in the crowd even before your +colleague had recovered his presence of mind. Tell him, I pray you, that +the elusive Pimpernel whom he knows so well never assumes a fanciful +disguise. He discovered the real Paul Mole first, studied him, learned +his personality, until his own became a perfect replica of the miserable +caitiff. It was the false Paul Mole who induced Jeannette Marechal to +introduce him originally into the household of citizen Marat. It was he +who gained the confidence of his employer; he, for a consideration, +borrowed the identity papers of his real prototype. He again who for a +few francs induced the real Paul Mole to follow him into the house of +the murdered demagogue and to mingle there with the throng. He who +thrust the identity papers back into the hands of their rightful owner +whilst he himself was swallowed up by the crowd. But it was the real +Paul Mole who was finally arrested and who is now lingering in the +Abbaye prison, whence you, citizen Fouquier-Tinville, must free him on +the instant, on pain of suffering yourself for the nightmares of your +friend." + +"The second fact," he went on with the same good-humoured pleasantry, +"which our friend citizen Chauvelin had forgotten was that, though I +happen to have aroused his unconquerable ire, I am but one man amongst a +league of gallant English gentlemen. Their chief, I am proud to say; but +without them, I should be powerless. Without one of them near me, by the +side of the murdered Marat, I could not have rid myself of the ring in +time, before other rough hands searched me to my skin. Without them, I +could not have taken Madeleine Lannoy's child from out that terrible +hell, to which a miscreant's lustful revenge had condemned the poor +innocent. But while citizen Chauvelin, racked with triumph as well as +with anxiety, was rushing from the Leridans' house to yours, and thence +to the Abbaye prison, to gloat over his captive enemy, the League of the +Scarlet Pimpernel carefully laid and carried out its plans at leisure. +Disguised as men of the Surete, we took advantage of the Leridans' +terror to obtain access into the house. Frightened to death by our +warnings, as well as by citizen Chauvelin's threats, they not only +admitted us into their house, but actually placed Madeleine Lannoy's +child in our charge. Then they went contentedly to bed, and we, before +the real men of the Surete arrived upon the scene, were already safely +out of the way. My gallant English friends are some way out of Paris by +now, escorting Madeleine Lannoy and her child into safety. They will +return to Paris, citizen," continued the audacious adventurer, with a +laugh full of joy and of unconquerable vitality, "and be my henchmen as +before in many an adventure which will cause you and citizen Chauvelin +to gnash your teeth with rage. But I myself will remain in Paris," he +concluded lightly. "Yes, in Paris; under your very nose, and entirely at +your service!" + +The next second he was gone, and Fouquier-Tinville was left to marvel if +the whole apparition had not been a hideous dream. Only there was no +doubt that he was gagged and tied to a chair with cords: and here his +wife found him, an hour later, when she woke from her first sleep, +anxious because he had not yet come to bed. + + + + +II + +A QUESTION OF PASSPORTS + + +Bibot was very sure of himself. There never was, never had been, there +never would be again another such patriotic citizen of the Republic as +was citizen Bibot of the Town Guard. + +And because his patriotism was so well known among the members of the +Committee of Public Safety, and his uncompromising hatred of the +aristocrats so highly appreciated, citizen Bibot had been given the most +important military post within the city of Paris. + +He was in command of the Porte Montmartre, which goes to prove how +highly he was esteemed, for, believe me, more treachery had been going +on inside and out of the Porte Montmartre than in any other quarter of +Paris. The last commandant there, citizen Ferney, was guillotined for +having allowed a whole batch of aristocrats--traitors to the Republic, +all of them--to slip through the Porte Montmartre and to find safety +outside the walls of Paris. Ferney pleaded in his defence that these +traitors had been spirited away from under his very nose by the devil's +agency, for surely that meddlesome Englishman who spent his time in +rescuing aristocrats--traitors, all of them--from the clutches of Madame +la Guillotine must be either the devil himself, or at any rate one of +his most powerful agents. + +"Nom de Dieu! just think of his name! The Scarlet Pimpernel they call +him! No one knows him by any other name! and he is preternaturally tall +and strong and superhumanly cunning! And the power which he has of being +transmuted into various personalities--rendering himself quite +unrecognisable to the eyes of the most sharp-seeing patriot of France, +must of a surety be a gift of Satan!" + +But the Committee of Public Safety refused to listen to Ferney's +explanations. The Scarlet Pimpernel was only an ordinary mortal--an +exceedingly cunning and meddlesome personage it is true, and endowed +with a superfluity of wealth which enabled him to break the thin crust +of patriotism that overlay the natural cupidity of many Captains of the +Town Guard--but still an ordinary man for all that! and no true lover of +the Republic should allow either superstitious terror or greed to +interfere with the discharge of his duties which at the Porte Montmartre +consisted in detaining any and every person--aristocrat, foreigner, or +otherwise traitor to the Republic--who could not give a satisfactory +reason for desiring to leave Paris. Having detained such persons, the +patriot's next duty was to hand them over to the Committee of Public +Safety, who would then decide whether Madame la Guillotine would have +the last word over them or not. + +And the guillotine did nearly always have the last word to say, unless +the Scarlet Pimpernel interfered. + +The trouble was, that that same accursed Englishman interfered at times +in a manner which was positively terrifying. His impudence, certes, +passed all belief. Stories of his daring and of his impudence were +abroad which literally made the lank and greasy hair of every patriot +curl with wonder. 'Twas even whispered--not too loudly, forsooth--that +certain members of the Committee of Public Safety had measured their +skill and valour against that of the Englishman and emerged from the +conflict beaten and humiliated, vowing vengeance which, of a truth, was +still slow in coming. + +Citizen Chauvelin, one of the most implacable and unyielding members of +the Committee, was known to have suffered overwhelming shame at the +hands of that daring gang, of whom the so-called Scarlet Pimpernel was +the accredited chief. Some there were who said that citizen Chauvelin +had for ever forfeited his prestige, and even endangered his head by +measuring his well-known astuteness against that mysterious League of +spies. + +But then Bibot was different! + +He feared neither the devil, nor any Englishman. Had the latter the +strength of giants and the protection of every power of evil, Bibot was +ready for him. Nay! he was aching for a tussle, and haunted the purlieus +of the Committees to obtain some post which would enable him to come to +grips with the Scarlet Pimpernel and his League. + +Bibot's zeal and perseverance were duly rewarded, and anon he was +appointed to the command of the guard at the Porte Montmartre. + +A post of vast importance as aforesaid; so much so, in fact, that no +less a person than citizen Jean Paul Marat himself came to speak with +Bibot on that third day of Nivose in the year I of the Republic, with a +view to impressing upon him the necessity of keeping his eyes open, and +of suspecting every man, woman, and child indiscriminately until they +had proved themselves to be true patriots. + +"Let no one slip through your fingers, citizen Bibot," Marat admonished +with grim earnestness. "That accursed Englishman is cunning and +resourceful, and his impudence surpasses that of the devil himself." + +"He'd better try some of his impudence on me!" commented Bibot with a +sneer, "he'll soon find out that he no longer has a Ferney to deal with. +Take it from me, citizen Marat, that if a batch of aristocrats escape +out of Paris within the next few days, under the guidance of the d--d +Englishman, they will have to find some other way than the Porte +Montmartre." + +"Well said, citizen!" commented Marat. "But be watchful to-night ... +to-night especially. The Scarlet Pimpernel is rampant in Paris just +now." + +"How so?" + +"The ci-devant Duc and Duchesse de Montreux and the whole of their +brood--sisters, brothers, two or three children, a priest, and several +servants--a round dozen in all, have been condemned to death. The +guillotine for them to-morrow at daybreak! Would it could have been +to-night," added Marat, whilst a demoniacal leer contorted his face +which already exuded lust for blood from every pore. "Would it could +have been to-night. But the guillotine has been busy; over four hundred +executions to-day ... and the tumbrils are full--the seats bespoken in +advance--and still they come.... But to-morrow morning at daybreak +Madame la Guillotine will have a word to say to the whole of the +Montreux crowd!" + +"But they are in the Conciergerie prison surely, citizen! out of the +reach of that accursed Englishman?" + +"They are on their way, an I mistake not, to the prison at this moment. +I came straight on here after the condemnation, to which I listened with +true joy. Ah, citizen Bibot! the blood of these hated aristocrats is +good to behold when it drips from the blade of the guillotine. Have a +care, citizen Bibot, do not let the Montreux crowd escape!" + +"Have no fear, citizen Marat! But surely there is no danger! They have +been tried and condemned! They are, as you say, even now on their +way--well guarded, I presume--to the Conciergerie prison!--to-morrow at +daybreak, the guillotine! What is there to fear?" + +"Well! well!" said Marat, with a slight tone of hesitation, "it is best, +citizen Bibot, to be over-careful these times." + +Even whilst Marat spoke his face, usually so cunning and so vengeful, +had suddenly lost its look of devilish cruelty which was almost +superhuman in the excess of its infamy, and a greyish hue--suggestive of +terror--had spread over the sunken cheeks. He clutched Bibot's arm, and +leaning over the table he whispered in his ear: + +"The Public Prosecutor had scarce finished his speech to-day, judgment +was being pronounced, the spectators were expectant and still, only the +Montreux woman and some of the females and children were blubbering and +moaning, when suddenly, it seemed from nowhere, a small piece of paper +fluttered from out the assembly and alighted on the desk in front of the +Public Prosecutor. He took the paper up and glanced at its contents. I +saw that his cheeks had paled, and that his hand trembled as he handed +the paper over to me." + +"And what did that paper contain, citizen Marat?" asked Bibot, also +speaking in a whisper, for an access of superstitious terror was +gripping him by the throat. + +"Just the well-known accursed device, citizen, the small scarlet flower, +drawn in red ink, and the few words: 'To-night the innocent men and +women now condemned by this infamous tribunal will be beyond your +reach!'" + +"And no sign of a messenger?" + +"None." + +"And when did----" + +"Hush!" said Marat peremptorily, "no more of that now. To your post, +citizen, and remember--all are suspect! let none escape!" + +The two men had been sitting outside a small tavern, opposite the Porte +Montmartre, with a bottle of wine between them, their elbows resting on +the grimy top of a rough wooden table. They had talked in whispers, for +even the walls of the tumble-down cabaret might have had ears. + +Opposite them the city wall--broken here by the great gate of +Montmartre--loomed threateningly in the fast-gathering dusk of this +winter's afternoon. Men in ragged red shirts, their unkempt heads +crowned with Phrygian caps adorned with a tricolour cockade, lounged +against the wall, or sat in groups on the top of piles of refuse that +littered the street, with a rough deal plank between them and a greasy +pack of cards in their grimy fingers. Guns and bayonets were propped +against the wall. The gate itself had three means of egress; each of +these was guarded by two men with fixed bayonets at their shoulders, but +otherwise dressed like the others, in rags--with bare legs that looked +blue and numb in the cold--the sans-culottes of revolutionary Paris. + +Bibot rose from his seat, nodding to Marat, and joined his men. + +From afar, but gradually drawing nearer, came the sound of a ribald +song, with chorus accompaniment sung by throats obviously surfeited with +liquor. + +For a moment--as the sound approached--Bibot turned back once more to +the Friend of the People. + +"Am I to understand, citizen," he said, "that my orders are not to let +anyone pass through these gates to-night?" + +"No, no, citizen," replied Marat, "we dare not do that. There are a +number of good patriots in the city still. We cannot interfere with +their liberty or--" + +And the look of fear of the demagogue--himself afraid of the human +whirlpool which he has let loose--stole into Marat's cruel, piercing +eyes. + +"No, no," he reiterated more emphatically, "we cannot disregard the +passports issued by the Committee of Public Safety. But examine each +passport carefully, citizen Bibot! If you have any reasonable ground for +suspicion, detain the holder, and if you have not----" + +The sound of singing was quite near now. With another wink and a final +leer, Marat drew back under the shadow of the cabaret, and Bibot +swaggered up to the main entrance of the gate. + +"Qui va la?" he thundered in stentorian tones as a group of some +half-dozen people lurched towards him out of the gloom, still shouting +hoarsely their ribald drinking song. + +The foremost man in the group paused opposite citizen Bibot, and with +arms akimbo, and legs planted well apart tried to assume a rigidity of +attitude which apparently was somewhat foreign to him at this moment. + +"Good patriots, citizen," he said in a thick voice which he vainly tried +to render steady. + +"What do you want?" queried Bibot. + +"To be allowed to go on our way unmolested." + +"What is your way?" + +"Through the Porte Montmartre to the village of Barency." + +"What is your business there?" + +This query delivered in Bibot's most pompous manner seemed vastly to +amuse the rowdy crowd. He who was the spokesman turned to his friends +and shouted hilariously: + +"Hark at him, citizens! He asks me what is our business. Oh, citizen +Bibot, since when have you become blind? A dolt you've always been, else +you had not asked the question." + +But Bibot, undeterred by the man's drunken insolence, retorted gruffly: + +"Your business, I want to know." + +"Bibot! my little Bibot!" cooed the bibulous orator now in dulcet tones, +"dost not know us, my good Bibot? Yet we all know thee, citizen--Captain +Bibot of the Town Guard, eh, citizens! Three cheers for the citizen +captain!" + +When the noisy shouts and cheers from half a dozen hoarse throats had +died down, Bibot, without more ado, turned to his own men at the gate. + +"Drive these drunken louts away!" he commanded; "no one is allowed to +loiter here." + +Loud protest on the part of the hilarious crowd followed, then a slight +scuffle with the bayonets of the Town Guard. Finally the spokesman, +somewhat sobered, once more appealed to Bibot. + +"Citizen Bibot! you must be blind not to know me and my mates! And let +me tell you that you are doing yourself a deal of harm by interfering +with the citizens of the Republic in the proper discharge of their +duties, and by disregarding their rights of egress through this gate, a +right confirmed by passports signed by two members of the Committee of +Public Safety." + +He had spoken now fairly clearly and very pompously. Bibot, somewhat +impressed and remembering Marat's admonitions, said very civilly: + +"Tell me your business then, citizen, and show me your passports. If +everything is in order you may go your way." + +"But you know me, citizen Bibot?" queried the other. + +"Yes, I know you--unofficially, citizen Durand." + +"You know that I and the citizens here are the carriers for citizen +Legrand, the market gardener of Barency?" + +"Yes, I know that," said Bibot guardedly, "unofficially." + +"Then, unofficially, let me tell you, citizen, that unless we get to +Barency this evening, Paris will have to do without cabbages and +potatoes to-morrow. So now you know that you are acting at your own risk +and peril, citizen, by detaining us." + +"Your passports, all of you," commanded Bibot. + +He had just caught sight of Marat still sitting outside the tavern +opposite, and was glad enough, in this instance, to shelve his +responsibility on the shoulders of the popular "Friend of the People." +There was general searching in ragged pockets for grimy papers with +official seals thereon, and whilst Bibot ordered one of his men to take +the six passports across the road to citizen Marat for his inspection, +he himself, by the last rays of the setting winter sun, made close +examination of the six men who desired to pass through the Porte +Montmartre. + +As the spokesman had averred, he--Bibot--knew every one of these men. +They were the carriers to citizen Legrand, the Barency market gardener. +Bibot knew every face. They passed with a load of fruit and vegetables +in and out of Paris every day. There was really and absolutely no cause +for suspicion, and when citizen Marat returned the six passports, +pronouncing them to be genuine, and recognising his own signature at the +bottom of each, Bibot was at last satisfied, and the six bibulous +carriers were allowed to pass through the gate, which they did, arm in +arm, singing a wild curmagnole, and vociferously cheering as they +emerged out into the open. + +But Bibot passed an unsteady hand over his brow. It was cold, yet he was +in a perspiration. That sort of thing tells on a man's nerves. He +rejoined Marat, at the table outside the drinking booth, and ordered a +fresh bottle of wine. + +The sun had set now, and with the gathering dusk a damp mist descended +on Montmartre. From the wall opposite, where the men sat playing cards, +came occasional volleys of blasphemous oaths. Bibot was feeling much +more like himself. He had half forgotten the incident of the six +carriers, which had occurred nearly half an hour ago. + +Two or three other people had, in the meanwhile, tried to pass through +the gates, but Bibot had been suspicious and had detained them all. + +Marat having commended him for his zeal took final leave of him. Just as +the demagogue's slouchy, grimy figure was disappearing down a side +street there was the loud clatter of hoofs from that same direction, and +the next moment a detachment of the mounted Town Guard, headed by an +officer in uniform, galloped down the ill-paved street. + +Even before the troopers had drawn rein the officer had hailed Bibot. + +"Citizen," he shouted, and his voice was breathless, for he had +evidently ridden hard and fast, "this message to you from the citizen +Chief Commissary of the Section. Six men are wanted by the Committee of +Public Safety. They are disguised as carriers in the employ of a market +gardener, and have passports for Barency!... The passports are stolen: +the men are traitors--escaped aristocrats--and their spokesman is that +d--d Englishman, the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Bibot tried to speak; he tugged at the collar of his ragged shirt; an +awful curse escaped him. + +"Ten thousand devils!" he roared. + +"On no account allow these people to go through," continued the officer. +"Keep their passports. Detain them!... Understand?" + +Bibot was still gasping for breath even whilst the officer, ordering a +quick "Turn!" reeled his horse round, ready to gallop away as far as he +had come. + +"I am for the St. Denis Gate--Grosjean is on guard there!" he shouted. +"Same orders all round the city. No one to leave the gates!... +Understand?" + +His troopers fell in. The next moment he would be gone, and those cursed +aristocrats well in safety's way. + +"Citizen Captain!" + +The hoarse shout at last contrived to escape Bibot's parched throat. As +if involuntarily, the officer drew rein once more. + +"What is it? Quick!--I've no time. That confounded Englishman may be at +the St. Denis Gate even now!" + +"Citizen Captain," gasped Bibot, his breath coming and going like that +of a man fighting for his life. "Here!... at this gate!... not half an +hour ago ... six men ... carriers ... market gardeners ... I seemed to +know their faces...." + +"Yes! yes! market gardener's carriers," exclaimed the officer gleefully, +"aristocrats all of them ... and that d--d Scarlet Pimpernel. You've got +them? You've detained them?... Where are they?... Speak, man, in the +name of hell!..." + +"Gone!" gasped Bibot. His legs would no longer bear him. He fell +backwards on to a heap of street debris and refuse, from which lowly +vantage ground he contrived to give away the whole miserable tale. + +"Gone! half an hour ago. Their passports were in order!... I seemed to +know their faces! Citizen Marat was here.... He, too--" + +In a moment the officer had once more swung his horse round, so that the +animal reared, with wild forefeet pawing the air, with champing of bit, +and white foam scattered around. + +"A thousand million curses!" he exclaimed. "Citizen Bibot, your head +will pay for this treachery. Which way did they go?" + +A dozen hands were ready to point in the direction where the merry party +of carriers had disappeared half an hour ago; a dozen tongues gave +rapid, confused explanations. + +"Into it, my men!" shouted the officer; "they were on foot! They can't +have gone far. Remember the Republic has offered ten thousand francs for +the capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Already the heavy gates had been swung open, and the officer's voice +once more rang out clear through a perfect thunder-clap of fast +galloping hoofs: + +"Ventre a terre! Remember!--ten thousand francs to him who first sights +the Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +The thunder-clap died away in the distance, the dust of four score hoofs +was merged in the fog and in the darkness; the voice of the captain was +raised again through the mist-laden air. One shout ... a shout of +triumph ... then silence once again. + +Bibot had fainted on the heap of debris. + +His comrades brought him wine to drink. He gradually revived. Hope came +back to his heart; his nerves soon steadied themselves as the heavy +beverage filtrated through into his blood. + +"Bah!" he ejaculated as he pulled himself together, "the troopers were +well-mounted ... the officer was enthusiastic; those carriers could not +have walked very far. And, in any case, I am free from blame. Citoyen +Marat himself was here and let them pass!" + +A shudder of superstitious terror ran through him as he recollected the +whole scene: for surely he knew all the faces of the six men who had +gone through the gate. The devil indeed must have given the mysterious +Englishman power to transmute himself and his gang wholly into the +bodies of other people. + +More than an hour went by. Bibot was quite himself again, bullying, +commanding, detaining everybody now. + +At that time there appeared to be a slight altercation going on, on the +farther side of the gate. Bibot thought it his duty to go and see what +the noise was about. Someone wanting to get into Paris instead of out of +it at this hour of the night was a strange occurrence. + +Bibot heard his name spoken by a raucous voice. Accompanied by two of +his men he crossed the wide gates in order to see what was happening. +One of the men held a lanthorn, which he was swinging high above his +head. Bibot saw standing there before him, arguing with the guard by the +gate, the bibulous spokesman of the band of carriers. + +He was explaining to the sentry that he had a message to deliver to the +citizen commanding at the Porte Montmartre. + +"It is a note," he said, "which an officer of the mounted guard gave me. +He and twenty troopers were galloping down the great North Road not far +from Barency. When they overtook the six of us they drew rein, and the +officer gave me this note for citizen Bibot and fifty francs if I would +deliver it tonight." + +"Give me the note!" said Bibot calmly. + +But his hand shook as he took the paper; his face was livid with fear +and rage. + +The paper had no writing on it, only the outline of a small scarlet +flower done in red--the device of the cursed Englishman, the Scarlet +Pimpernel. + +"Which way did the officer and the twenty troopers go," he stammered, +"after they gave you this note?" + +"On the way to Calais," replied the other, "but they had magnificent +horses, and didn't spare them either. They are a league and more away by +now!" + +All the blood in Bibot's body seemed to rush up to his head, a wild +buzzing was in his ears.... + +And that was how the Duc and Duchesse de Montreux, with their servants +and family, escaped from Paris on that third day of Nivose in the year I +of the Republic. + + + + +III + +TWO GOOD PATRIOTS + + +Being the deposition of citizeness Fanny Roussell, who was brought up, +together with her husband, before the Tribunal of the Revolution on a +charge of treason--both being subsequently acquitted. + +My name is Fanny Roussell, and I am a respectable married woman, and as +good a patriot as any of you sitting there. + +Aye, and I'll say it with my dying breath, though you may send me to the +guillotine ... as you probably will, for you are all thieves and +murderers, every one of you, and you have already made up your minds +that I and my man are guilty of having sheltered that accursed +Englishman whom they call the Scarlet Pimpernel ... and of having helped +him to escape. + +But I'll tell you how it all happened, because, though you call me a +traitor to the people of France, yet am I a true patriot and will prove +it to you by telling you exactly how everything occurred, so that you +may be on your guard against the cleverness of that man, who, I do +believe, is a friend and confederate of the devil ... else how could he +have escaped that time? + +Well! it was three days ago, and as bitterly cold as anything that my +man and I can remember. We had no travellers staying in the house, for +we are a good three leagues out of Calais, and too far for the folk who +have business in or about the harbour. Only at midday the coffee-room +would get full sometimes with people on their way to or from the port. + +But in the evenings the place was quite deserted, and so lonely that at +times we fancied that we could hear the wolves howling in the forest of +St. Pierre. + +It was close on eight o'clock, and my man was putting up the shutters, +when suddenly we heard the tramp of feet on the road outside, and then +the quick word, "Halt!" + +The next moment there was a peremptory knock at the door. My man opened +it, and there stood four men in the uniform of the 9th Regiment of the +Line ... the same that is quartered at Calais. The uniform, of course, I +knew well, though I did not know the men by sight. + +"In the name of the People and by the order of the Committee of Public +Safety!" said one of the men, who stood in the forefront, and who, I +noticed, had a corporal's stripe on his left sleeve. + +He held out a paper, which was covered with seals and with writing, but +as neither my man nor I can read, it was no use our looking at it. + +Hercule--that is my husband's name, citizens--asked the corporal what +the Committee of Public Safety wanted with us poor hoteliers of a +wayside inn. + +"Only food and shelter for to-night for me and my men," replied the +corporal, quite civilly. + +"You can rest here," said Hercule, and he pointed to the benches in the +coffee-room, "and if there is any soup left in the stockpot, you are +welcome to it." + +Hercule, you see, is a good patriot, and he had been a soldier in his +day.... No! no ... do not interrupt me, any of you ... you would only be +saying that I ought to have known ... but listen to the end. + +"The soup we'll gladly eat," said the corporal very pleasantly. "As for +shelter ... well! I am afraid that this nice warm coffee-room will not +exactly serve our purpose. We want a place where we can lie hidden, and +at the same time keep a watch on the road. I noticed an outhouse as we +came. By your leave we will sleep in there." + +"As you please," said my man curtly. + +He frowned as he said this, and it suddenly seemed as if some vague +suspicion had crept into Hercule's mind. + +The corporal, however, appeared unaware of this, for he went on quite +cheerfully: + +"Ah! that is excellent! Entre nous, citizen, my men and I have a +desperate customer to deal with. I'll not mention his name, for I see +you have guessed it already. A small red flower, what?... Well, we know +that he must be making straight for the port of Calais, for he has been +traced through St. Omer and Ardres. But he cannot possibly enter Calais +city to-night, for we are on the watch for him. He must seek shelter +somewhere for himself and any other aristocrat he may have with him, +and, bar this house, there is no other place between Ardres and Calais +where he can get it. The night is bitterly cold, with a snow blizzard +raging round. I and my men have been detailed to watch this road, other +patrols are guarding those that lead toward Boulogne and to Gravelines; +but I have an idea, citizen, that our fox is making for Calais, and that +to me will fall the honour of handing that tiresome scarlet flower to +the Public Prosecutor en route for Madame la Guillotine." + +Now I could not really tell you, citizens, what suspicions had by this +time entered Hercule's head or mine; certainly what suspicions we did +have were still very vague. + +I prepared the soup for the men and they ate it heartily, after which my +husband led the way to the outhouse where we sometimes stabled a +traveller's horse when the need arose. + +It is nice and dry, and always filled with warm, fresh straw. The +entrance into it immediately faces the road; the corporal declared that +nothing would suit him and his men better. + +They retired to rest apparently, but we noticed that two men remained on +the watch just inside the entrance, whilst the two others curled up in +the straw. + +Hercule put out the lights in the coffee-room, and then he and I went +upstairs--not to bed, mind you--but to have a quiet talk together over +the events of the past half-hour. + +The result of our talk was that ten minutes later my man quietly stole +downstairs and out of the house. He did not, however, go out by the +front door, but through a back way which, leading through a +cabbage-patch and then across a field, cuts into the main road some two +hundred metres higher up. + +Hercule and I had decided that he would walk the three leagues into +Calais, despite the cold, which was intense, and the blizzard, which was +nearly blinding, and that he would call at the post of gendarmerie at +the city gates, and there see the officer in command and tell him the +exact state of the case. It would then be for that officer to decide +what was to be done; our responsibility as loyal citizens would be +completely covered. + +Hercule, you must know, had just emerged from our cabbage-patch on to +the field when he was suddenly challenged: + +"Qui va la?" + +He gave his name. His certificate of citizenship was in his pocket; he +had nothing to fear. Through the darkness and the veil of snow he had +discerned a small group of men wearing the uniform of the 9th Regiment +of the Line. + +"Four men," said the foremost of these, speaking quickly and +commandingly, "wearing the same uniform that I and my men are wearing +... have you seen them?" + +"Yes," said Hercule hurriedly. + +"Where are they?" + +"In the outhouse close by." + +The other suppressed a cry of triumph. + +"At them, my men!" he said in a whisper, "and you, citizen, thank your +stars that we have not come too late." + +"These men ..." whispered Hercule. "I had my suspicions." + +"Aristocrats, citizen," rejoined the commander of the little party, "and +one of them is that cursed Englishman--the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Already the soldiers, closely followed by Hercule, had made their way +through our cabbage-patch back to the house. + +The next moment they had made a bold dash for the barn. There was a +great deal of shouting, a great deal of swearing and some firing, whilst +Hercule and I, not a little frightened, remained in the coffee-room, +anxiously awaiting events. + +Presently the group of soldiers returned, not the ones who had first +come, but the others. I noticed their leader, who seemed to be +exceptionally tall. + +He looked very cheerful, and laughed loudly as he entered the +coffee-room. From the moment that I looked at his face I knew, somehow, +that Hercule and I had been fooled, and that now, indeed, we stood eye +to eye with that mysterious personage who is called the Scarlet +Pimpernel. + +I screamed, and Hercule made a dash for the door; but what could two +humble and peaceful citizens do against this band of desperate men, who +held their lives in their own hands? They were four and we were two, and +I do believe that their leader has supernatural strength and power. + +He treated us quite kindly, even though he ordered his followers to bind +us down to our bed upstairs, and to tie a cloth round our mouths so that +our cries could not be distinctly heard. + +Neither my man nor I closed an eye all night, of course, but we heard +the miscreants moving about in the coffee-room below. But they did no +mischief, nor did they steal any of the food or wines. + +At daybreak we heard them going out by the front door, and their +footsteps disappearing toward Calais. We found their discarded uniforms +lying in the coffee-room. They must have entered Calais by daylight, +when the gates were opened--just like other peaceable citizens. No doubt +they had forged passports, just as they had stolen uniforms. + +Our maid-of-all-work released us from our terrible position in the +course of the morning, and we released the soldiers of the 9th Regiment +of the Line, whom we found bound and gagged, some of them wounded, in +the outhouse. + +That same afternoon we were arrested, and here we are, ready to die if +we must, but I swear that I have told you the truth, and I ask you, in +the name of justice, if we have done anything wrong, and if we did not +act like loyal and true citizens, even though we were pitted against an +emissary of the devil? + + + + +IV + +THE OLD SCARECROW + + +Nobody in the quartier could quite recollect when it was that the new +Public Letter-Writer first set up in business at the angle formed by the +Quai des Augustins and the Rue Dauphine, immediately facing the Pont +Neuf; but there he certainly was on the 28th day of February, 1793, when +Agnes, with eyes swollen with tears, a market basket on her arm, and a +look of dreary despair on her young face, turned that selfsame angle on +her way to the Pont Neuf, and nearly fell over the rickety construction +which sheltered him and his stock-in-trade. + +"Oh, mon Dieu! citizen Lepine, I had no idea you were here," she +exclaimed as soon as she had recovered her balance. + +"Nor I, citizeness, that I should have the pleasure of seeing you this +morning," he retorted. + +"But you were always at the other corner of the Pont Neuf," she argued. + +"So I was," he replied, "so I was. But I thought I would like a change. +The Faubourg St. Michel appealed to me; most of my clients came to me +from this side of the river--all those on the other side seem to know +how to read and write." + +"I was just going over to see you," she remarked. + +"You, citizeness," he exclaimed in unfeigned surprise, "what should +procure a poor public writer the honour of--" + +"Hush, in God's name!" broke in the young girl quickly as she cast a +rapid, furtive glance up and down the quai and the narrow streets which +converged at this angle. + +She was dressed in the humblest and poorest of clothes, her skimpy shawl +round her shoulders could scarce protect her against the cold of this +cruel winter's morning; her hair was entirely hidden beneath a frilled +and starched cap, and her feet were encased in coarse worsted stockings +and sabots, but her hands were delicate and fine, and her face had that +nobility of feature and look of patient resignation in the midst of +overwhelming sorrow which proclaimed a lofty refinement both of soul and +of mind. + +The old Letter-Writer was surveying the pathetic young figure before him +through his huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and she smiled on him through +her fast-gathering tears. He used to have his pitch at the angle of the +Pont Neuf, and whenever Agnes had walked past it, she had nodded to him +and bidden him "Good morrow!" He had at times done little commissions +for her and gone on errands when she needed a messenger; to-day, in the +midst of her despair, she had suddenly thought of him and that rumour +credited him with certain knowledge which she would give her all to +possess. + +She had sallied forth this morning with the express purpose of speaking +with him; but now suddenly she felt afraid, and stood looking at him for +a moment or two, hesitating, wondering if she dared tell him--one never +knew these days into what terrible pitfall an ill-considered word might +lead one. + +A scarecrow he was, that old Public Letter-Writer, more like a great, +gaunt bird than a human being, with those spectacles of his, and his +long, very sparse and very lanky fringe of a beard which fell from his +cheeks and chin and down his chest for all the world like a crumpled +grey bib. He was wrapped from head to foot in a caped coat which had +once been green in colour, but was now of many hues not usually seen in +rainbows. He wore his coat all buttoned down the front, like a +dressing-gown, and below the hem there peeped out a pair of very large +feet encased in boots which had never been a pair. He sat upon a +rickety, straw-bottomed chair under an improvised awning which was made +up of four poles and a bit of sacking. He had a table in front of him--a +table partially and very insecurely propped up by a bundle of old papers +and books, since no two of its four legs were completely whole--and on +the table there was a neckless bottle half-filled with ink, a few sheets +of paper and a couple of quill pens. + +The young girl's hesitation had indeed not lasted more than a few +seconds. + +Furtively, like a young creature terrified of lurking enemies, she once +more glanced to right and left of her and down the two streets and the +river bank, for Paris was full of spies these days--human bloodhounds +ready for a few sous to sell their fellow-creatures' lives. It was +middle morning now, and a few passers-by were hurrying along wrapped to +the nose in mufflers, for the weather was bitterly cold. + +Agnes waited until there was no one in sight, then she leaned forward +over the table and whispered under her breath: + +"They say, citizen, that you alone in Paris know the whereabouts of the +English milor'--of him who is called the Scarlet Pimpernel...." + +"Hush-sh-sh!" said the old man quickly, for just at that moment two men +had gone by, in ragged coats and torn breeches, who had leered at Agnes +and her neat cap and skirt as they passed. Now they had turned the angle +of the street and the old man, too, sank his voice to a whisper. + +"I know nothing of any Englishman," he muttered. + +"Yes, you do," she rejoined insistently. "When poor Antoine Carre was +somewhere in hiding and threatened with arrest, and his mother dared not +write to him lest her letter be intercepted, she spoke to you about the +English milor', and the English milor' found Antoine Carre and took him +and his mother safely out of France. Mme. Carre is my godmother.... I +saw her the very night when she went to meet the English milor' at his +commands. I know all that happened then.... I know that you were the +intermediary." + +"And if I was," he muttered sullenly as he fiddled with his pen and +paper, "maybe I've had cause to regret it. For a week after that Carre +episode I dared not show my face in the streets of Paris; for nigh on a +fortnight I dared not ply my trade ... I have only just ventured again +to set up in business. I am not going to risk my old neck again in a +hurry...." + +"It is a matter of life and death," urged Agnes, as once more the tears +rushed to her pleading eyes and the look of misery settled again upon +her face. + +"Your life, citizeness?" queried the old man, "or that of citizen-deputy +Fabrice?" + +"Hush!" she broke in again, as a look of real terror now overspread her +face. Then she added under her breath: "You know?" + +"I know that Mademoiselle Agnes de Lucines is fiancee to the +citizen-deputy Arnould Fabrice," rejoined the old man quietly, "and that +it is Mademoiselle Agnes de Lucines who is speaking with me now." + +"You have known that all along?" + +"Ever since mademoiselle first tripped past me at the angle of the Pont +Neuf dressed in winsey kirtle and wearing sabots on her feet...." + +"But how?" she murmured, puzzled, not a little frightened, for his +knowledge might prove dangerous to her. She was of gentle birth, and as +such an object of suspicion to the Government of the Republic and of the +Terror; her mother was a hopeless cripple, unable to move: this together +with her love for Arnould Fabrice had kept Agnes de Lucines in France +these days, even though she was in hourly peril of arrest. + +"Tell me what has happened," the old man said, unheeding her last +anxious query. "Perhaps I can help ..." + +"Oh! you cannot--the English milor' can and will if only we could know +where he is. I thought of him the moment I received that awful man's +letter--and then I thought of you...." + +"Tell me about the letter--quickly," he interrupted her with some +impatience. "I'll be writing something--but talk away, I shall hear +every word. But for God's sake be as brief as you can." + +He drew some paper nearer to him and dipped his pen in the ink. He +appeared to be writing under her dictation. Thin, flaky snow had begun +to fall and settled in a smooth white carpet upon the frozen ground, and +the footsteps of the passers-by sounded muffled as they hurried along. +Only the lapping of the water of the sluggish river close by broke the +absolute stillness of the air. + +Agnes de Lucines' pale face looked ethereal in this framework of white +which covered her shoulders and the shawl crossed over her bosom: only +her eyes, dark, appealing, filled with a glow of immeasurable despair, +appeared tensely human and alive. + +"I had a letter this morning," she whispered, speaking very rapidly, +"from citizen Heriot--that awful man--you know him?" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"He used to be valet in the service of deputy Fabrice. Now he, too, is a +member of the National Assembly ... he is arrogant and cruel and vile. +He hates Arnould Fabrice and he professes himself passionately in love +with me." + +"Yes, yes!" murmured the old man, "but the letter?" + +"It came this morning. In it he says that he has in his possession a +number of old letters, documents and manuscripts which are quite enough +to send deputy Fabrice to the guillotine. He threatens to place all +those papers before the Committee of Public Safety unless ... unless +I...." + +She paused, and a deep blush, partly of shame, partly of wrath, suffused +her pale cheeks. + +"Unless you accept his grimy hand in marriage," concluded the man dryly. + +Her eyes gave him answer. With pathetic insistence she tried now to +glean a ray of hope from the old scarecrow's inscrutable face. But he +was bending over his writing: his fingers were blue with cold, his great +shoulders were stooping to his task. + +"Citizen," she pleaded. + +"Hush!" he muttered, "no more now. The very snowflakes are made up of +whispers that may reach those bloodhounds yet. The English milor' shall +know of this. He will send you a message if he thinks fit." + +"Citizen--" + +"Not another word, in God's name! Pay me five sous for this letter and +pray Heaven that you have not been watched." + +She shivered and drew her shawl closer round her shoulders, then she +counted out five sous with elaborate care and laid them out upon the +table. The old man took up the coins. He blew into his fingers, which +looked paralysed with the cold. The snow lay over everything now; the +rough awning had not protected him or his wares. + +Agnes turned to go. The last she saw of him, as she went up the Rue +Dauphine, was one broad shoulder still bending over the table, and clad +in the shabby, caped coat all covered with snow like an old Santa Claus. + + +II + +It was half-an-hour before noon, and citizen-deputy Heriot was preparing +to go out to the small tavern round the corner where he habitually took +his dejeuner. Citizen Rondeau, who for the consideration of ten sous a +day looked after Heriot's paltry creature-comforts, was busy tidying up +the squalid apartment which the latter occupied on the top floor of a +lodging-house in the Rue Cocatrice. This apartment consisted of three +rooms leading out of one another; firstly there was a dark and narrow +antichambre wherein slept the aforesaid citizen-servant; then came a +sitting-room sparsely furnished with a few chairs, a centre table and an +iron stove, and finally there was the bedroom wherein the most +conspicuous object was a large oak chest clamped with wide iron hinges +and a massive writing-desk; the bed and a very primitive washstand were +in an alcove at the farther end of the room and partially hidden by a +tapestry curtain. + +At exactly half-past seven that morning there came a peremptory knock at +the door of the antichambre, and as Rondeau was busy in the bedroom, +Heriot went himself to see who his unexpected visitor might be. On the +landing outside stood an extraordinary-looking individual--more like a +tall and animated scarecrow than a man--who in a tremulous voice asked +if he might speak with the citizen Heriot. + +"That is my name," said the deputy gruffly, "what do you want?" + +He would have liked to slam the door in the old scarecrow's face, but +the latter, with the boldness which sometimes besets the timid, had +already stepped into the anti-chambre and was now quietly sauntering +through to the next room into the one beyond. Heriot, being a +representative of the people and a social democrat of the most advanced +type, was supposed to be accessible to every one who desired speech with +him. Though muttering sundry curses, he thought it best not to go +against his usual practice, and after a moment's hesitation he followed +his unwelcome visitor. + +The latter was in the sitting-room by this time; he had drawn a chair +close to the table and sat down with the air of one who has a perfect +right to be where he is; as soon as Heriot entered he said placidly: + +"I would desire to speak alone with the citizen-deputy." + +And Heriot, after another slight hesitation, ordered Rondeau to close +the bedroom door. + +"Keep your ears open in case I call," he added significantly. + +"You are cautious, citizen," merely remarked the visitor with a smile. + +To this Heriot vouchsafed no reply. He, too, drew a chair forward and +sat opposite his visitor, then he asked abruptly: "Your name and +quality?" + +"My name is Lepine at your service," said the old man, "and by +profession I write letters at the rate of five sous or so, according to +length, for those who are not able to do it for themselves." + +"Your business with me?" queried Heriot curtly. + +"To offer you two thousand francs for the letters which you stole from +deputy Fabrice when you were his valet," replied Lepine with perfect +calm. + +In a moment Heriot was on his feet, jumping up as if he had been stung; +his pale, short-sighted eyes narrowed till they were mere slits, and +through them he darted a quick, suspicious glance at the extraordinary +out-at-elbows figure before him. Then he threw back his head and laughed +till the tears streamed down his cheeks and his sides began to ache. + +"This is a farce, I presume, citizen," he said when he had recovered +something of his composure. + +"No farce, citizen," replied Lepine calmly. "The money is at your +disposal whenever you care to bring the letters to my pitch at the angle +of the Rue Dauphine and the Quai des Augustins, where I carry on my +business." + +"Whose money is it? Agnes de Lucines' or did that fool Fabrice send +you?" + +"No one sent me, citizen. The money is mine--a few savings I possess--I +honour citizen Fabrice--I would wish to do him service by purchasing +certain letters from you." + +Then as Heriot, moody and sullen, remained silent and began pacing up +and down the long, bare floor of the room, Lepine added persuasively, +"Well! what do you say? Two thousand francs for a packet of letters--not +a bad bargain these hard times." + +"Get out of this room," was Heriot's fierce and sudden reply. + +"You refuse?" + +"Get out of this room!" + +"As you please," said Lepine as he, too, rose from his chair. "But +before I go, citizen Heriot," he added, speaking very quietly, "let me +tell you one thing. Mademoiselle Agnes de Lucines would far sooner cut +off her right hand than let yours touch it even for one instant. Neither +she nor deputy Fabrice would ever purchase their lives at such a price." + +"And who are you--you mangy old scarecrow?" retorted Heriot, who was +getting beside himself with rage, "that you should assert these things? +What are those people to you, or you to them, that you should interfere +in their affairs?" + +"Your question is beside the point, citizen," said Lepine blandly; "I am +here to propose a bargain. Had you not better agree to it?" + +"Never!" reiterated Heriot emphatically. + +"Two thousand francs," reiterated the old man imperturbably. + +"Not if you offered me two hundred thousand," retorted the other +fiercely. "Go and tell that, to those who sent you. Tell them that +I--Heriot--would look upon a fortune as mere dross against the delight +of seeing that man Fabrice, whom I hate beyond everything in earth or +hell, mount up the steps to the guillotine. Tell them that I know that +Agnes de Lucines loathes me, that I know that she loves him. I know that +I cannot win her save by threatening him. But you are wrong, citizen +Lepine," he continued, speaking more and more calmly as his passions of +hatred and of love seemed more and more to hold him in their grip; "you +are wrong if you think that she will not strike a bargain with me in +order to save the life of Fabrice, whom she loves. Agnes de Lucines will +be my wife within the month, or Arnould Fabrice's head will fall under +the guillotine, and you, my interfering friend, may go to the devil, if +you please." + +"That would be but a tame proceeding, citizen, after my visit to you," +said the old man, with unruffled sang-froid. "But let me, in my turn, +assure you of this, citizen Heriot," he added, "that Mlle. de Lucines +will never be your wife, that Arnould Fabrice will not end his valuable +life under the guillotine--and that you will never be allowed to use +against him the cowardly and stolen weapon which you possess." + +Heriot laughed--a low, cynical laugh and shrugged his thin shoulders: + +"And who will prevent me, I pray you?" he asked sarcastically. + +The old man made no immediate reply, but he came just a step or two +closer to the citizen-deputy and, suddenly drawing himself up to his +full height, he looked for one brief moment down upon the mean and +sordid figure of the ex-valet. To Heriot it seemed as if the whole man +had become transfigured; the shabby old scarecrow looked all of a sudden +like a brilliant and powerful personality; from his eyes there flashed +down a look of supreme contempt and of supreme pride, and Heriot--unable +to understand this metamorphosis which was more apparent to his inner +consciousness than to his outward sight, felt his knees shake under him +and all the blood rush back to his heart in an agony of superstitious +terror. + +From somewhere there came to his ear the sound of two words: "I will!" +in reply to his own defiant query. Surely those words uttered by a man +conscious of power and of strength could never have been spoken by the +dilapidated old scarecrow who earned a precarious living by writing +letters for ignorant folk. + +But before he could recover some semblance of presence of mind citizen +Lepine had gone, and only a loud and merry laugh seemed to echo through +the squalid room. + +Heriot shook off the remnant of his own senseless terror; he tore open +the door of the bedroom and shouted to Rondeau, who truly was thinking +that the citizen-deputy had gone mad: + +"After him!--after him! Quick! curse you!" he cried. + +"After whom?" gasped the man. + +"The man who was here just now--an aristo." + +"I saw no one--but the Public Letter-Writer, old Lepine--I know him +well---" + +"Curse you for a fool!" shouted Heriot savagely, "the man who was here +was that cursed Englishman--the one whom they call the Scarlet +Pimpernel. Run after him--stop him, I say!" + +"Too late, citizen," said the other placidly; "whoever was here before +is certainly half-way down the street by now." + + +III + +"No use, Ffoulkes," said Sir Percy Blakeney to his friend half-an-hour +later, "the man's passions of hatred and desire are greater than his +greed." + +The two men were sitting together in one of Sir Percy Blakeney's many +lodgings--the one in the Rue des Petits Peres--and Sir Percy had just +put Sir Andrew Ffoulkes au fait with the whole sad story of Arnould +Fabrice's danger and Agnes de Lucines' despair. + +"You could do nothing with the brute, then?" queried Sir Andrew. + +"Nothing," replied Blakeney. "He refused all bribes, and violence would +not have helped me, for what I wanted was not to knock him down, but to +get hold of the letters." + +"Well, after all, he might have sold you the letters and then denounced +Fabrice just the same." + +"No, without actual proofs he could not do that. Arnould Fabrice is not +a man against whom a mere denunciation would suffice. He has the +grudging respect of every faction in the National Assembly. Nothing but +irrefutable proof would prevail against him--and bring him to the +guillotine." + +"Why not get Fabrice and Mlle. de Lucines safely over to England?" + +"Fabrice would not come. He is not of the stuff that emigres are made +of. He is not an aristocrat; he is a republican by conviction, and a +demmed honest one at that. He would scorn to run away, and Agnes de +Lucines would not go without him." + +"Then what can we do?" + +"Filch those letters from that brute Heriot," said Blakeney calmly. + +"House-breaking, you mean!" commented Sir Andrew Ffoulkes dryly. + +"Petty theft, shall we say?" retorted Sir Percy. "I can bribe the lout +who has charge of Heriot's rooms to introduce us into his master's +sanctum this evening when the National Assembly is sitting and the +citizen-deputy safely out of the way." + +And the two men--one of whom was the most intimate friend of the Prince +of Wales and the acknowledged darling of London society--thereupon fell +to discussing plans for surreptitiously entering a man's room and +committing larceny, which in normal times would entail, if discovered, a +long term of imprisonment, but which, in these days, in Paris, and +perpetrated against a member of the National Assembly, would certainly +be punished by death. + + +IV + +Citizen Rondeau, whose business it was to look after the creature +comforts of deputy Heriot, was standing in the antichambre facing the +two visitors whom he had just introduced into his master's apartments, +and idly turning a couple of gold coins over and over between his grimy +fingers. + +"And mind, you are to see nothing and hear nothing of what goes on in +the next room," said the taller of the two strangers; "and when we go +there'll be another couple of louis for you. Is that understood?" + +"Yes! it's understood," grunted Rondeau sullenly; "but I am running +great risks. The citizen-deputy sometimes returns at ten o'clock, but +sometimes at nine.... I never know." + +"It is now seven," rejoined the other; "we'll be gone long before nine." + +"Well," said Rondeau surlily, "I go out now for my supper. I'll return +in half an hour, but at half-past eight you must clear out." + +Then he added with a sneer: + +"Citizens Legros and Desgas usually come back with deputy Heriot of +nights, and citizens Jeanniot and Bompard come in from next door for a +game of cards. You wouldn't stand much chance if you were caught here." + +"Not with you to back up so formidable a quintette of stalwarts," +assented the tall visitor gaily. "But we won't trouble about that just +now. We have a couple of hours before us in which to do all that we +want. So au revoir, friend Rondeau ... two more louis for your +complaisance, remember, when we have accomplished our purpose." + +Rondeau muttered something more, but the two strangers paid no further +heed to him; they had already walked to the next room, leaving Rondeau +in the antichambre. + +Sir Percy Blakeney did not pause in the sitting-room where an oil lamp +suspended from the ceiling threw a feeble circle of light above the +centre table. He went straight through to the bedroom. Here, too, a +small lamp was burning which only lit up a small portion of the +room--the writing-desk and the oak chest--leaving the corners and the +alcove, with its partially drawn curtains, in complete shadow. + +Blakeney pointed to the oak chest and to the desk. + +"You tackle the chest, Ffoulkes, and I will go for the desk," he said +quietly, as soon as he had taken a rapid survey of the room. "You have +your tools?" + +Ffoulkes nodded, and anon in this squalid room, ill-lit, ill-ventilated, +barely furnished, was presented one of the most curious spectacles of +these strange and troublous times: two English gentlemen, the +acknowledged dandies of London drawing-rooms, busy picking locks and +filing hinges like any common house-thieves. + +Neither of them spoke, and a strange hush fell over the room--a hush +only broken by the click of metal against metal, and the deep breathing +of the two men bending to their task. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was working +with a file on the padlocks of the oak chest, and Sir Percy Blakeney, +with a bunch of skeleton keys, was opening the drawers of the +writing-desk. These, when finally opened, revealed nothing of any +importance; but when anon Sir Andrew was able to lift the lid of the oak +chest, he disclosed an innumerable quantity of papers and documents tied +up in neat bundles, docketed and piled up in rows and tiers to the very +top of the chest. + +"Quick to work, Ffoulkes," said Blakeney, as in response to his friend's +call he drew a chair forward and, seating himself beside the chest, +started on the task of looking through the hundreds of bundles which lay +before him. "It will take us all our time to look through these." + +Together now the two men set to work--methodically and quietly--piling +up on the floor beside them the bundles of papers which they had already +examined, and delving into the oak chest for others. No sound was heard +save the crackling of crisp paper and an occasional ejaculation from +either of them when they came upon some proof or other of Heriot's +propensity for blackmail. + +"Agnes de Lucines is not the only one whom this brute is terrorising," +murmured Blakeney once between his teeth; "I marvel that the man ever +feels safe, alone in these lodgings, with no one but that weak-kneed +Rondeau to protect him. He must have scores of enemies in this city who +would gladly put a dagger in his heart or a bullet through his back." + +They had been at work for close on half an hour when an exclamation of +triumph, quickly smothered, escaped Sir Percy's lips. + +"By Gad, Ffoulkes!" he said, "I believe I have got what we want!" + +With quick, capable hands he turned over a bundle which he had just +extracted from the chest. Rapidly he glanced through them. "I have them, +Ffoulkes," he reiterated more emphatically as he put the bundle into his +pocket; "now everything back in its place and--" + +Suddenly he paused, his slender hand up to his lips, his head turned +toward the door, an expression of tense expectancy in every line of his +face. + +"Quick, Ffoulkes," he whispered, "everything back into the chest, and +the lid down." + +"What ears you have," murmured Ffoulkes as he obeyed rapidly and without +question. "I heard nothing." + +Blakeney went to the door and bent his head to listen. + +"Three men coming up the stairs," he said; "they are on the landing +now." + +"Have we time to rush them?" + +"No chance! They are at the door. Two more men have joined them, and I +can distinguish Rondeau's voice, too." + +"The quintette," murmured Sir Andrew. "We are caught like two rats in a +trap." + +Even as he spoke the opening of the outside door could be distinctly +heard, then the confused murmur of many voices. Already Blakeney and +Ffoulkes had with perfect presence of mind put the finishing touches to +the tidying of the room--put the chairs straight, shut down the lid of +the oak chest, closed all the drawers of the desk. + +"Nothing but good luck can save us now," whispered Blakeney as he +lowered the wick of the lamp. "Quick now," he added, "behind that +tapestry in the alcove and trust to our stars." + +Securely hidden for the moment behind the curtains in the dark recess of +the alcove the two men waited. The door leading into the sitting-room +was ajar, and they could hear Heriot and his friends making merry +irruption into the place. From out the confusion of general conversation +they soon gathered that the debates in the Chamber had been so dull and +uninteresting that, at a given signal, the little party had decided to +adjourn to Heriot's rooms for their habitual game of cards. They could +also hear Heriot calling to Rondeau to bring bottles and glasses, and +vaguely they marvelled what Rondeau's attitude might be like at this +moment. Was he brazening out the situation, or was he sick with terror? + +Suddenly Heriot's voice came out more distinctly. + +"Make yourselves at home, friends," he was saying; "here are cards, +dominoes, and wine. I must leave you to yourselves for ten minutes +whilst I write an important letter." + +"All right, but don't be long," came in merry response. + +"Not longer than I can help," rejoined Heriot. "I want my revenge +against Bompard, remember. He did fleece me last night." + +"Hurry on, then," said one of the men. "I'll play Desgas that return +game of dominoes until then." + +"Ten minutes and I'll be back," concluded Heriot. + +He pushed open the bedroom door. The light within was very dim. The two +men hidden behind the tapestry could hear him moving about the room +muttering curses to himself. Presently the light of the lamp was shifted +from one end of the room to the other. Through the opening between the +two curtains Blakeney could just see Heriot's back as he placed the lamp +at a convenient angle upon his desk, divested himself of his overcoat +and muffler, then sat down and drew pen and paper closer to him. He was +leaning forward, his elbow resting upon the table, his fingers fidgeting +with his long, lank hair. He had closed the door when he entered, and +from the other room now the voices of his friends sounded confused and +muffled. Now and then an exclamation: "Double!" "Je ... tiens!" +"Cinq-deux!" an oath, a laugh, the click of glasses and bottles came out +more clearly; but the rest of the time these sounds were more like a +droning accompaniment to the scraping of Heriot's pen upon the paper +when he finally began to write his letter. + +Two minutes went by and then two more. The scratching of Heriot's pen +became more rapid as he appeared to be more completely immersed in his +work. Behind the curtain the two men had been waiting: Blakeney ready to +act, Ffoulkes equally ready to interpret the slightest signal from his +chief. + +The next minute Blakeney had stolen out of the alcove, and his two +hands--so slender and elegant looking, and yet with a grip of steel--had +fastened themselves upon Heriot's mouth, smothering within the space of +a second the cry that had been half-uttered. Ffoulkes was ready to +complete the work of rendering the man helpless: one handkerchief made +an efficient gag, another tied the ankles securely. Heriot's own +coat-sleeves supplied the handcuffs, and the blankets off the bed tied +around his legs rendered him powerless to move. Then the two men lifted +this inert mass on to the bed and Ffoulkes whispered anxiously: "Now, +what next?" + +Heriot's overcoat, hat, and muffler lay upon a chair. Sir Percy, placing +a warning finger upon his lips, quickly divested himself of his own +coat, slipped that of Heriot on, twisted the muffler round his neck, +hunched up his shoulders, and murmuring: "Now for a bit of luck!" once +more lowered the light of the lamp and then went to the door. + +"Rondeau!" he called. "Hey, Rondeau!" And Sir Percy himself was +surprised at the marvellous way in which he had caught the very +inflection of Heriot's voice. + +"Hey, Rondeau!" came from one of the players at the table, "the +citizen-deputy is calling you!" + +They were all sitting round the table: two men intent upon their game of +dominoes, the other two watching with equal intentness. Rondeau came +shuffling out of the antichambre. His face, by the dim light of the oil +lamp, looked jaundiced with fear. + +"Rondeau, you fool, where are you?" called Blakeney once again. + +The next moment Rondeau had entered the room. No need for a signal or an +order this time. Ffoulkes knew by instinct what his chief's bold scheme +would mean to them both if it succeeded. He retired into the darkest +corner of the room as Rondeau shuffled across to the writing-desk. It +was all done in a moment. In less time than it had taken to bind and gag +Heriot, his henchman was laid out on the floor, his coat had been taken +off him, and he was tied into a mummy-like bundle with Sir Andrew +Ffoulkes' elegant coat fastened securely round his arms and chest. It +had all been done in silence. The men in the next room were noisy and +intent on their game; the slight scuffle, the quickly smothered cries +had remained unheeded. + +"Now, what next?" queried Sir Andrew Ffoulkes once more. + +"The impudence of the d--- l, my good Ffoulkes," replied Blakeney in a +whisper, "and may our stars not play us false. Now let me make you look +as like Rondeau as possible--there! Slip on his coat--now your hair over +your forehead--your coat-collar up--your knees bent--that's better!" he +added as he surveyed the transformation which a few deft strokes had +made in Sir Andrew Ffoulkes' appearance. "Now all you have to do is to +shuffle across the room--here's your prototype's handkerchief--of +dubious cleanliness, it is true, but it will serve--blow your nose as +you cross the room, it will hide your face. They'll not heed you--keep +in the shadows and God guard you--I'll follow in a moment or two ... but +don't wait for me." + +He opened the door, and before Sir Andrew could protest his chief had +pushed him out into the room where the four men were still intent on +their game. Through the open door Sir Percy now watched his friend who, +keeping well within the shadows, shuffled quietly across the room. The +next moment Sir Andrew was through and in the antichambre. Blakeney's +acutely sensitive ears caught the sound of the opening of the outer +door. He waited for a while, then he drew out of his pocket the bundle +of letters which he had risked so much to obtain. There they were neatly +docketed and marked: "The affairs of Arnould Fabrice." + +Well! if he got away to-night Agnes de Lucines would be happy and free +from the importunities of that brute Heriot; after that he must persuade +her and Fabrice to go to England and to freedom. + +For the moment his own safety was terribly in jeopardy; one false +move--one look from those players round the table.... Bah! even then--! + +With an inward laugh he pushed open the door once more and stepped into +the room. For the moment no one noticed him; the game was at its most +palpitating stage; four shaggy heads met beneath the lamp and four pairs +of eyes were gazing with rapt attention upon the intricate maze of the +dominoes. + +Blakeney walked quietly across the room; he was just midway and on a +level with the centre table when a voice was suddenly raised from that +tense group beneath the lamp: "Is it thou, friend Heriot?" + +Then one of the men looked up and stared, and another did likewise and +exclaimed: "It is not Heriot!" + +In a moment all was confusion, but confusion was the very essence of +those hair-breadth escapes and desperate adventures which were as the +breath of his nostrils to the Scarlet Pimpernel. Before those four men +had had time to jump to their feet, or to realise that something was +wrong with their friend Heriot, he had run across the room, his hand was +on the knob of the door--the door that led to the antichambre and to +freedom. + +Bompard, Desgas, Jeanniot, Legros were at his heels, but he tore open +the door, bounded across the threshold, and slammed it to with such a +vigorous bang that those on the other side were brought to a momentary +halt. That moment meant life and liberty to Blakeney; already he had +crossed the antichambre. Quite coolly and quietly now he took out the +key from the inner side of the main door and slipped it to the outside. +The next second--even as the four men rushed helter-skelter into the +antichambre he was out on the landing and had turned the key in the +door. + +His prisoners were safely locked in--in Heriot's apartments--and Sir +Percy Blakeney, calmly and without haste, was descending the stairs of +the house in the Rue Cocatrice. + +The next morning Agnes de Lucines received, through an anonymous +messenger, the packet of letters which would so gravely have compromised +Arnould Fabrice. Though the weather was more inclement than ever, she +ran out into the streets, determined to seek out the old Public +Letter-Writer and thank him for his mediation with the English milor, +who surely had done this noble action. + +But the old scarecrow had disappeared. + + + + +V + +A FINE BIT OF WORK + + +I + +"Sh!... sh!... It's the Englishman. I'd know his footstep anywhere--" + +"God bless him!" murmured petite maman fervently. + +Pere Lenegre went to the door; he stepped cautiously and with that +stealthy foot-tread which speaks in eloquent silence of daily, hourly +danger, of anguish and anxiety for lives that are dear. + +The door was low and narrow--up on the fifth floor of one of the huge +tenement houses in the Rue Jolivet in the Montmartre quarter of Paris. A +narrow stone passage led to it--pitch-dark at all times, but dirty, and +evil-smelling when the concierge--a free citizen of the new +democracy--took a week's holiday from his work in order to spend whole +afternoons either at the wineshop round the corner, or on the Place du +Carrousel to watch the guillotine getting rid of some twenty aristocrats +an hour for the glorification of the will of the people. + +But inside the small apartment everything was scrupulously neat and +clean. Petite maman was such an excellent manager, and Rosette was busy +all the day tidying and cleaning the poor little home, which Pere +Lenegre contrived to keep up for wife and daughter by working fourteen +hours a day in the government saddlery. + +When Pere Lenegre opened the narrow door, the entire framework of it was +filled by the broad, magnificent figure of a man in heavy caped coat and +high leather boots, with dainty frills of lace at throat and wrist, and +elegant chapeau-bras held in the hand. + +Pere Lenegre at sight of him, put a quick finger to his own quivering +lips. + +"Anything wrong, vieux papa?" asked the newcomer lightly. + +The other closed the door cautiously before he made reply. But petite +maman could not restrain her anxiety. + +"My little Pierre, milor?" she asked as she clasped her wrinkled hands +together, and turned on the stranger her tear-dimmed restless eyes. + +"Pierre is safe and well, little mother," he replied cheerily. "We got +him out of Paris early this morning in a coal cart, carefully hidden +among the sacks. When he emerged he was black but safe. I drove the cart +myself as far as Courbevoie, and there handed over your Pierre and those +whom we got out of Paris with him to those of my friends who were going +straight to England. There's nothing more to be afraid of, petite +maman," he added as he took the old woman's wrinkled hands in both his +own; "your son is now under the care of men who would die rather than +see him captured. So make your mind at ease, Pierre will be in England, +safe and well, within a week." + +Petite maman couldn't say anything just then because tears were choking +her, but in her turn she clasped those two strong and slender hands--the +hands of the brave Englishman who had just risked his life in order to +save Pierre from the guillotine--and she kissed them as fervently as she +kissed the feet of the Madonna when she knelt before her shrine in +prayer. + +Pierre had been a footman in the household of unhappy Marie Antoinette. +His crime had been that he remained loyal to her in words as well as in +thought. A hot-headed but nobly outspoken harangue on behalf of the +unfortunate queen, delivered in a public place, had at once marked him +out to the spies of the Terrorists as suspect of intrigue against the +safety of the Republic. He was denounced to the Committee of Public +Safety, and his arrest and condemnation to the guillotine would have +inevitably followed had not the gallant band of Englishmen, known as the +League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, succeeded in effecting his escape. + +What wonder that petite maman could not speak for tears when she clasped +the hands of the noble leader of that splendid little band of heroes? +What wonder that Pere Lenegre, when he heard that his son was safe +murmured a fervent: "God bless you, milor, and your friends!" and that +Rosette surreptitiously raised the fine caped coat to her lips, for +Pierre was her twin-brother, and she loved him very dearly. + +But already Sir Percy Blakeney had, with one of his characteristic +cheery words, dissipated the atmosphere of tearful emotion which +oppressed these kindly folk. + +"Now, Papa Lenegre," he said lightly, "tell me why you wore such a +solemn air when you let me in just now." + +"Because, milor," replied the old man quietly, "that d----d concierge, +Jean Baptiste, is a black-hearted traitor." + +Sir Percy laughed, his merry, infectious laugh. + +"You mean that while he has been pocketing bribes from me, he has +denounced me to the Committee." + +Pere Lenegre nodded: "I only heard it this morning," he said, "from one +or two threatening words the treacherous brute let fall. He knows that +you lodge in the Place des Trois Maries, and that you come here +frequently. I would have given my life to warn you then and there," +continued the old man with touching earnestness, "but I didn't know +where to find you. All I knew was that you were looking after Pierre." + +Even while the man spoke there darted from beneath the Englishman's +heavy lids a quick look like a flash of sudden and brilliant light out +of the lazy depths of his merry blue eyes; it was one of those glances +of pure delight and exultation which light up the eyes of the true +soldier when there is serious fighting to be done. + +"La, man," he said gaily, "there was no cause to worry. Pierre is safe, +remember that! As for me," he added with that wonderful insouciance +which caused him to risk his life a hundred times a day with a shrug of +his broad shoulders and a smile upon his lips; "as for me, I'll look +after myself, never fear." + +He paused awhile, then added gravely: "So long as you are safe, my good +Lenegre, and petite maman, and Rosette." + +Whereupon the old man was silent, petite maman murmured a short prayer, +and Rosette began to cry. The hero of a thousand gallant rescues had +received his answer. + +"You, too, are on the black list, Pere Lenegre?" he asked quietly. + +The old man nodded. + +"How do you know?" queried the Englishman. + +"Through Jean Baptiste, milor." + +"Still that demmed concierge," muttered Sir Percy. + +"He frightened petite maman with it all this morning, saying that he +knew my name was down on the Sectional Committee's list as a 'suspect.' +That's when he let fall a word or two about you, milor. He said it is +known that Pierre has escaped from justice, and that you helped him to +it. + +"I am sure that we shall get a domiciliary visit presently," continued +Pere Lenegre, after a slight pause. "The gendarmes have not yet been, +but I fancy that already this morning early I saw one or two of the +Committee's spies hanging about the house, and when I went to the +workshop I was followed all the time." + +The Englishman looked grave: "And tell me," he said, "have you got +anything in this place that may prove compromising to any of you?" + +"No, milor. But, as Jean Baptiste said, the Sectional Committee know +about Pierre. It is because of my son that I am suspect." + +The old man spoke quite quietly, very simply, like a philosopher who has +long ago learned to put behind him the fear of death. Nor did petite +maman cry or lament. Her thoughts were for the brave milor who had saved +her boy; but her fears for her old man left her dry-eyed and dumb with +grief. + +There was silence in the little room for one moment while the angel of +sorrow and anguish hovered round these faithful and brave souls, then +the Englishman's cheery voice, so full of spirit and merriment, rang out +once more--he had risen to his full, towering height, and now placed a +kindly hand on the old man's shoulder: + +"It seems to me, my good Lenegre," he said, "that you and I haven't many +moments to spare if we mean to cheat those devils by saving your neck. +Now, petite maman," he added, turning to the old woman, "are you going +to be brave?" + +"I will do anything, milor," she replied quietly, "to help my old man." + +"Well, then," said Sir Percy Blakeney in that optimistic, light-hearted +yet supremely authoritative tone of which he held the secret, "you and +Rosette remain here and wait for the gendarmes. When they come, say +nothing; behave with absolute meekness, and let them search your place +from end to end. If they ask you about your husband say that you believe +him to be at his workshop. Is that clear?" + +"Quite clear, milor," replied petite maman. + +"And you, Pere Lenegre," continued the Englishman, speaking now with +slow and careful deliberation, "listen very attentively to the +instructions I am going to give you, for on your implicit obedience to +them depends not only your own life but that of these two dear women. Go +at once, now, to the Rue Ste. Anne, round the corner, the second house +on your right, which is numbered thirty-seven. The porte cochere stands +open, go boldly through, past the concierge's box, and up the stairs to +apartment number twelve, second floor. Here is the key of the +apartment," he added, producing one from his coat pocket and handing it +over to the old man. "The rooms are nominally occupied by a certain +Maitre Turandot, maker of violins, and not even the concierge of the +place knows that the hunchbacked and snuffy violin-maker and the +meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel, whom the Committee of Public Safety would +so love to lay by the heels, are one and the same person. The apartment, +then, is mine; one of the many which I occupy in Paris at different +times," he went on. "Let yourself in quietly with this key, walk +straight across the first room to a wardrobe, which you will see in +front of you. Open it. It is hung full of shabby clothes; put these +aside, and you will notice that the panels at the back do not fit very +closely, as if the wardrobe was old or had been badly put together. +Insert your fingers in the tiny aperture between the two middle panels. +These slide back easily: there is a recess immediately behind them. Get +in there; pull the doors of the wardrobe together first, then slide the +back panels into their place. You will be perfectly safe there, as the +house is not under suspicion at present, and even if the revolutionary +guard, under some meddle-some sergeant or other, chooses to pay it a +surprise visit, your hiding-place will be perfectly secure. Now is all +that quite understood?" + +"Absolutely, milor," replied Lenegre, even as he made ready to obey Sir +Percy's orders, "but what about you? You cannot get out of this house, +milor," he urged; "it is watched, I tell you." + +"La!" broke in Blakeney, in his light-hearted way, "and do you think I +didn't know that? I had to come and tell you about Pierre, and now I +must give those worthy gendarmes the slip somehow. I have my rooms +downstairs on the ground floor, as you know, and I must make certain +arrangements so that we can all get out of Paris comfortably this +evening. The demmed place is no longer safe either for you, my good +Lenegre, or for petite maman and Rosette. But wherever I may be, +meanwhile, don't worry about me. As soon as the gendarmes have been and +gone, I'll go over to the Rue Ste. Anne and let you know what +arrangements I've been able to make. So do as I tell you now, and in +Heaven's name let me look after myself." + +Whereupon, with scant ceremony, he hustled the old man out of the room. + +Pere Lenegre had contrived to kiss petite maman and Rosette before he +went. It was touching to see the perfect confidence with which these +simple-hearted folk obeyed the commands of milor. Had he not saved +Pierre in his wonderful, brave, resourceful way? Of a truth he would +know how to save Pere Lenegre also. But, nevertheless, anguish gripped +the women's hearts; anguish doubly keen since the saviour of Pierre was +also in danger now. + +When Pere Lenegre's shuffling footsteps had died away along the flagged +corridor, the stranger once more turned to the two women. + +"And now, petite maman," he said cheerily, as he kissed the old woman on +both her furrowed cheeks, "keep up a good heart, and say your prayers +with Rosette. Your old man and I will both have need of them." + +He did not wait to say good-bye, and anon it was his firm footstep that +echoed down the corridor. He went off singing a song, at the top of his +voice, for the whole house to hear, and for that traitor, Jean Baptiste, +to come rushing out of his room marvelling at the impudence of the man, +and cursing the Committee of Public Safety who were so slow in sending +the soldiers of the Republic to lay this impertinent Englishman by the +heels. + + +II + +A quarter of an hour later half dozen men of the Republican Guard, with +corporal and sergeant in command, were in the small apartment on the +fifth floor of the tenement house in the Rue Jolivet. They had demanded +an entry in the name of the Republic, had roughly hustled petite maman +and Rosette, questioned them to Lenegre's whereabouts, and not satisfied +with the reply which they received, had turned the tidy little home +topsy-turvy, ransacked every cupboard, dislocated every bed, table or +sofa which might presumably have afforded a hiding place for a man. + +Satisfied now that the "suspect" whom they were searching for was not on +the premises, the sergeant stationed four of his men with the corporal +outside the door, and two within, and himself sitting down in the centre +of the room ordered the two women to stand before him and to answer his +questions clearly on pain of being dragged away forthwith to the St. +Lazare house of detention. + +Petite maman smoothed out her apron, crossed her arms before her, and +looked the sergeant quite straight in the face. Rosette's eyes were full +of tears, but she showed no signs of fear either, although her +shoulder--where one of the gendarmes had seized it so roughly--was +terribly painful. + +"Your husband, citizeness," asked the sergeant peremptorily, "where is +he?" + +"I am not sure, citizen," replied petite maman. "At this hour he is +generally at the government works in the Quai des Messageries." + +"He is not there now," asserted the sergeant. "We have knowledge that he +did not go back to his work since dinner-time." + +Petite maman was silent. + +"Answer," ordered the sergeant. + +"I cannot tell you more, citizen sergeant," she said firmly. "I do not +know." + +"You do yourself no good, woman, by this obstinacy," he continued +roughly. "My belief is that your husband is inside this house, hidden +away somewhere. If necessary I can get orders to have every apartment +searched until he is found: but in that case it will go much harder with +you and with your daughter, and much harder too with your husband than +if he gave us no trouble and followed us quietly." + +But with sublime confidence in the man who had saved Pierre and who had +given her explicit orders as to what she should do, petite maman, backed +by Rosette, reiterated quietly: + +"I cannot tell you more, citizen sergeant, I do not know." + +"And what about the Englishman?" queried the sergeant more roughly, "the +man they call the Scarlet Pimpernel, what do you know of him?" + +"Nothing, citizen," replied petite maman, "what should we poor folk know +of an English milor?" + +"You know at any rate this much, citizeness, that the English milor +helped your son Pierre to escape from justice." + +"If that is so," said petite maman quietly, "it cannot be wrong for a +mother to pray to God to bless her son's preserver." + +"It behooves every good citizen," retorted the sergeant firmly, "to +denounce all traitors to the Republic." + +"But since I know nothing about the Englishman, citizen sergeant--?" + +And petite maman shrugged her thin shoulders as if the matter had ceased +to interest her. + +"Think again, citizeness," admonished the sergeant, "it is your +husband's neck as well as your daughter's and your own that you are +risking by so much obstinacy." + +He waited a moment or two as if willing to give the old woman time to +speak: then, when he saw that she kept her thin, quivering lips +resolutely glued together he called his corporal to him. + +"Go to the citizen Commissary of the Section," he commanded, "and ask +for a general order to search every apartment in No. 24 Rue Jolivet. +Leave two of our men posted on the first and third landings of this +house and leave two outside this door. Be as quick as you can. You can +be back here with the order in half an hour, or perhaps the committee +will send me an extra squad; tell the citizen Commissary that this is a +big house, with many corridors. You can go." + +The corporal saluted and went. + +Petite maman and Rosette the while were still standing quietly in the +middle of the room, their arms folded underneath their aprons, their +wide-open, anxious eyes fixed into space. Rosette's tears were falling +slowly, one by one down her cheeks, but petite maman was dry-eyed. She +was thinking, and thinking as she had never had occasion to think +before. + +She was thinking of the brave and gallant Englishman who had saved +Pierre's life only yesterday. The sergeant, who sat there before her, +had asked for orders from the citizen Commissary to search this big +house from attic to cellar. That is what made petite maman think and +think. + +The brave Englishman was in this house at the present moment: the house +would be searched from attic to cellar and he would be found, taken, and +brought to the guillotine. + +The man who yesterday had risked his life to save her boy was in +imminent and deadly danger, and she--petite maman--could do nothing to +save him. + +Every moment now she thought to hear milor's firm tread resounding on +stairs or corridor, every moment she thought to hear snatches of an +English song, sung by a fresh and powerful voice, never after to-day to +be heard in gaiety again. + +The old clock upon the shelf ticked away these seconds and minutes while +petite maman thought and thought, while men set traps to catch a +fellow-being in a deathly snare, and human carnivorous beasts lay +lurking for their prey. + + +III + +Another quarter of an hour went by. Petite maman and Rosette had hardly +moved. The shadows of evening were creeping into the narrow room, +blurring the outlines of the pieces of furniture and wrapping all the +corners in gloom. + +The sergeant had ordered Rosette to bring in a lamp. This she had done, +placing it upon the table so that the feeble light glinted upon the belt +and buckles of the sergeant and upon the tricolour cockade which was +pinned to his hat. Petite maman had thought and thought until she could +think no more. + +Anon there was much commotion on the stairs; heavy footsteps were heard +ascending from below, then crossing the corridors on the various +landings. The silence which reigned otherwise in the house, and which +had fallen as usual on the squalid little street, void of traffic at +this hour, caused those footsteps to echo with ominous power. + +Petite maman felt her heart beating so vigorously that she could hardly +breathe. She pressed her wrinkled hands tightly against her bosom. + +There were the quick words of command, alas! so familiar in France just +now, the cruel, peremptory words that invariably preceded an arrest, +preliminaries to the dragging of some wretched--often wholly +harmless--creature before a tribunal that knew neither pardon nor mercy. + +The sergeant, who had become drowsy in the close atmosphere of the tiny +room, roused himself at the sound and jumped to his feet. The door was +thrown open by the men stationed outside even before the authoritative +words, "Open! in the name of the Republic!" had echoed along the narrow +corridor. + +The sergeant stood at attention and quickly lifted his hand to his +forehead in salute. A fresh squad of some half-dozen men of the +Republican Guard stood in the doorway; they were under the command of an +officer of high rank, a rough, uncouth, almost bestial-looking creature, +with lank hair worn the fashionable length under his greasy +chapeau-bras, and unkempt beard round an ill-washed and bloated face. +But he wore the tricolour sash and badge which proclaimed him one of the +military members of the Sectional Committee of Public Safety, and the +sergeant, who had been so overbearing with the women just now, had +assumed a very humble and even obsequious manner. + +"You sent for a general order to the sectional Committee," said the +new-comer, turning abruptly to the sergeant after he had cast a quick, +searching glance round the room, hardly condescending to look on petite +maman and Rosette, whose very souls were now gazing out of their +anguish-filled eyes. + +"I did, citizen commandant," replied the sergeant. + +"I am not a commandant," said the other curtly. "My name is Rouget, +member of the Convention and of the Committee of Public Safety. The +sectional Committee to whom you sent for a general order of search +thought that you had blundered somehow, so they sent me to put things +right." + +"I am not aware that I committed any blunder, citizen," stammered the +sergeant dolefully. "I could not take the responsibility of making a +domiciliary search all through the house. So I begged for fuller +orders." + +"And wasted the Committee's time and mine by such nonsense," retorted +Rouget harshly. "Every citizen of the Republic worthy of the name should +know how to act on his own initiative when the safety of the nation +demands it." + +"I did not know--I did not dare--" murmured the sergeant, obviously +cowed by this reproof, which had been delivered in the rough, +overbearing tones peculiar to these men who, one and all, had risen from +the gutter to places of importance and responsibility in the +newly-modelled State. + +"Silence!" commanded the other peremptorily. "Don't waste any more of my +time with your lame excuses. You have failed in zeal and initiative. +That's enough. What else have you done? Have you got the man Lenegre?" + +"No, citizen. He is not in hiding here, and his wife and daughter will +not give us any information about him." + +"That is their look-out," retorted Rouget with a harsh laugh. "If they +give up Lenegre of their own free will the law will deal leniently with +them, and even perhaps with him. But if we have to search the house for +him, then it means the guillotine for the lot of them." + +He had spoken these callous words without even looking on the two +unfortunate women; nor did he ask them any further questions just then, +but continued speaking to the sergeant: + +"And what about the Englishman? The sectional Committee sent down some +spies this morning to be on the look-out for him on or about this house. +Have you got him?" + +"Not yet, citizen. But--" + +"Ah ca, citizen sergeant," broke in the other brusquely, "meseems that +your zeal has been even more at fault than I had supposed. Have you done +anything at all, then, in the matter of Lenegre or the Englishman?" + +"I have told you, citizen," retorted the sergeant sullenly, "that I +believe Lenegre to be still in this house. At any rate, he had not gone +out of it an hour ago--that's all I know. And I wanted to search the +whole of this house, as I am sure we should have found him in one of the +other apartments. These people are all friends together, and will always +help each other to evade justice. But the Englishman was no concern of +mine. The spies of the Committee were ordered to watch for him, and when +they reported to me I was to proceed with the arrest. I was not set to +do any of the spying work. I am a soldier, and obey my orders when I get +them." + +"Very well, then, you'd better obey them now, citizen sergeant," was +Rouget's dry comment on the other man's surly explanation, "for you seem +to have properly blundered from first to last, and will be hard put to +it to redeem your character. The Republic, remember, has no use for +fools." + +The sergeant, after this covert threat, thought it best, apparently, to +keep his tongue, whilst Rouget continued, in the same aggressive, +peremptory tone: + +"Get on with your domiciliary visits at once. Take your own men with +you, and leave me the others. Begin on this floor, and leave your sentry +at the front door outside. Now let me see your zeal atoning for your +past slackness. Right turn! Quick march!" + +Then it was that petite maman spoke out. She had thought and thought, +and now she knew what she ought to do; she knew that that cruel, inhuman +wretch would presently begin his tramp up and down corridors and stairs, +demanding admittance at every door, entering every apartment. She knew +that the man who had saved her Pierre's life was in hiding somewhere in +the house--that he would be found and dragged to the guillotine, for she +knew that the whole governing body of this abominable Revolution was +determined not to allow that hated Englishman to escape again. + +She was old and feeble, small and thin--that's why everyone called her +petite maman--but once she knew what she ought to do, then her spirit +overpowered the weakness of her wizened body. + +Now she knew, and even while that arrogant member of an execrated +murdering Committee was giving final instructions to the sergeant, +petite maman said, in a calm, piping voice: + +"No need, citizen sergeant, to go and disturb all my friends and +neighbours. I'll tell you where my husband is." + +In a moment Rouget had swung round on his heel, a hideous gleam of +satisfaction spread over his grimy face, and he said, with an ugly +sneer: + +"So! you have thought better of it, have you? Well, out with it! You'd +better be quick about it if you want to do yourselves any good." + +"I have my daughter to think of," said petite maman in a feeble, +querulous way, "and I won't have all my neighbours in this house made +unhappy because of me. They have all been kind neighbours. Will you +promise not to molest them and to clear the house of soldiers if I tell +you where Lenegre is?" + +"The Republic makes no promises," replied Rouget gruffly. "Her citizens +must do their duty without hope of a reward. If they fail in it, they +are punished. But privately I will tell you, woman, that if you save us +the troublesome and probably unprofitable task of searching this +rabbit-warren through and through, it shall go very leniently with you +and with your daughter, and perhaps--I won't promise, remember--perhaps +with your husband also." + +"Very good, citizen," said petite maman calmly. "I am ready." + +"Ready for what?" he demanded. + +"To take you to where my husband is in hiding." + +"Oho! He is not in the house, then?" + +"No." + +"Where is he, then?" + +"In the Rue Ste. Anne. I will take you there." + +Rouget cast a quick, suspicious glance on the old woman, and exchanged +one of understanding with the sergeant. + +"Very well," he said after a slight pause. "But your daughter must come +along too. Sergeant," he added, "I'll take three of your men with me; I +have half a dozen, but it's better to be on the safe side. Post your +fellows round the outer door, and on my way to the Rue Ste. Anne I will +leave word at the gendarmerie that a small reinforcement be sent on to +you at once. These can be here in five minutes; until then you are quite +safe." + +Then he added under his breath, so that the women should not hear: "The +Englishman may still be in the house. In which case, hearing us depart, +he may think us all gone and try to give us the slip. You'll know what +to do?" he queried significantly. + +"Of course, citizen," replied the sergeant. + +"Now, then, citizeness--hurry up." + +Once more there was tramping of heavy feet on stone stairs and +corridors. A squad of soldiers of the Republican Guard, with two women +in their midst, and followed by a member of the Committee of Public +Safety, a sergeant, corporal and two or three more men, excited much +anxious curiosity as they descended the steep flights of steps from the +fifth floor. + +Pale, frightened faces peeped shyly through the doorways at sound of the +noisy tramp from above, but quickly disappeared again at sight of the +grimy scarlet facings and tricolour cockades. + +The sergeant and three soldiers remained stationed at the foot of the +stairs inside the house. Then citizen Rouget roughly gave the order to +proceed. It seemed strange that it should require close on a dozen men +to guard two women and to apprehend one old man, but as the member of +the Committee of Public Safety whispered to the sergeant before he +finally went out of the house: "The whole thing may be a trap, and one +can't be too careful. The Englishman is said to be very powerful; I'll +get the gendarmerie to send you another half-dozen men, and mind you +guard the house until my return." + + +IV + +Five minutes later the soldiers, directed by petite maman, had reached +No. 37 Rue Ste. Anne. The big outside door stood wide open, and the +whole party turned immediately into the house. + +The concierge, terrified and obsequious, rushed--trembling--out of his +box. + +"What was the pleasure of the citizen soldiers?" he asked. + +"Tell him, citizeness," commanded Rouget curtly. + +"We are going to apartment No. 12 on the second floor," said petite +maman to the concierge. + +"Have you a key of the apartment?" queried Rouget. + +"No, citizen," stammered the concierge, "but--" + +"Well, what is it?" queried the other peremptorily. + +"Papa Turandot is a poor, harmless maker of volins," said the concierge. +"I know him well, though he is not often at home. He lives with a +daughter somewhere Passy way, and only uses this place as a workshop. I +am sure he is no traitor." + +"We'll soon see about that," remarked Rouget dryly. + +Petite maman held her shawl tightly crossed over her bosom: her hands +felt clammy and cold as ice. She was looking straight out before her, +quite dry-eyed and calm, and never once glanced on Rosette, who was not +allowed to come anywhere near her mother. + +As there was no duplicate key to apartment No. 12, citizen Rouget +ordered his men to break in the door. It did not take very long: the +house was old and ramshackle and the doors rickety. The next moment the +party stood in the room which a while ago the Englishman had so +accurately described to pere Lenegre in petite maman's hearing. + +There was the wardrobe. Petite maman, closely surrounded by the +soldiers, went boldly up to it; she opened it just as milor had +directed, and pushed aside the row of shabby clothes that hung there. +Then she pointed to the panels that did not fit quite tightly together +at the back. Petite maman passed her tongue over her dry lips before she +spoke. + +"There's a recess behind those panels," she said at last. "They slide +back quite easily. My old man is there." + +"And God bless you for a brave, loyal soul," came in merry, ringing +accent from the other end of the room. "And God save the Scarlet +Pimpernel!" + +These last words, spoken in English, completed the blank amazement which +literally paralysed the only three genuine Republican soldiers +there--those, namely, whom Rouget had borrowed from the sergeant. As for +the others, they knew what to do. In less than a minute they had +overpowered and gagged the three bewildered soldiers. + +Rosette had screamed, terror-stricken, from sheer astonishment, but +petite maman stood quite still, her pale, tear-dimmed eyes fixed upon +the man whose gay "God bless you!" had so suddenly turned her despair +into hope. + +How was it that in the hideous, unkempt and grimy Rouget she had not at +once recognised the handsome and gallant milor who had saved her +Pierre's life? Well, of a truth he had been unrecognisable, but now that +he tore the ugly wig and beard from his face, stretched out his fine +figure to its full height, and presently turned his lazy, merry eyes on +her, she could have screamed for very joy. + +The next moment he had her by the shoulders and had imprinted two +sounding kisses upon her cheeks. + +"Now, petite maman," he said gaily, "let us liberate the old man." + +Pere Lenegre, from his hiding-place, had heard all that had been going +on in the room for the last few moments. True, he had known exactly what +to expect, for no sooner had he taken possession of the recess behind +the wardrobe than milor also entered the apartment and then and there +told him of his plans not only for pere's own safety, but for that of +petite maman and Rosette who would be in grave danger if the old man +followed in the wake of Pierre. + +Milor told him in his usual light-hearted way that he had given the +Committee's spies the slip. + +"I do that very easily, you know," he explained. "I just slip into my +rooms in the Rue Jolivet, change myself into a snuffy and hunchback +violin-maker, and walk out of the house under the noses of the spies. In +the nearest wine-shop my English friends, in various disguises, are all +ready to my hand: half a dozen of them are never far from where I am in +case they may be wanted." + +These half-dozen brave Englishmen soon arrived one by one: one looked +like a coal-heaver, another like a seedy musician, a third like a +coach-driver. But they all walked boldly into the house and were soon +all congregated in apartment No. 12. Here fresh disguises were assumed, +and soon a squad of Republican Guards looked as like the real thing as +possible. + +Pere Lenegre admitted himself that though he actually saw milor +transforming himself into citizen Rouget, he could hardly believe his +eyes, so complete was the change. + +"I am deeply grieved to have frightened and upset you so, petite maman," +now concluded milor kindly, "but I saw no other way of getting you and +Rosette out of the house and leaving that stupid sergeant and some of +his men behind. I did not want to arouse in him even the faintest breath +of suspicion, and of course if he had asked me for the written orders +which he was actually waiting for, or if his corporal had returned +sooner than I anticipated, there might have been trouble. But even +then," he added with his usual careless insouciance, "I should have +thought of some way of baffling those brutes." + +"And now," he concluded more authoritatively, "it is a case of getting +out of Paris before the gates close. Pere Lenegre, take your wife and +daughter with you and walk boldly out of this house. The sergeant and +his men have not vacated their post in the Rue Jolivet, and no one else +can molest you. Go straight to the Porte de Neuilly, and on the other +side wait quietly in the little cafe at the corner of the Avenue until I +come. Your old passes for the barriers still hold good; you were only +placed on the 'suspect' list this morning, and there has not been a hue +and cry yet about you. In any case some of us will be close by to help +you if needs be." + +"But you, milor," stammered pere Lenegre, "and your friends--?" + +"La, man," retorted Blakeney lightly, "have I not told you before never +to worry about me and my friends? We have more ways than one of giving +the slip to this demmed government of yours. All you've got to think of +is your wife and your daughter. I am afraid that petite maman cannot +take more with her than she has on, but we'll do all we can for her +comfort until we have you all in perfect safety--in England--with +Pierre." + +Neither pere Lenegre, nor petite maman, nor Rosette could speak just +then, for tears were choking them, but anon when milor stood nearer, +petite maman knelt down, and, imprisoning his slender hand in her brown, +wrinkled ones, she kissed it reverently. + +He laughed and chided her for this. + +"'Tis I should kneel to you in gratitude, petite maman," he said +earnestly, "you were ready to sacrifice your old man for me." + +"You have saved Pierre, milor," said the mother simply. + +A minute later pere Lenegre and the two women were ready to go. Already +milor and his gallant English friends were busy once more transforming +themselves into grimy workmen or seedy middle-class professionals. + +As soon as the door of apartment No. 12 finally closed behind the three +good folk, my lord Tony asked of his chief: + +"What about these three wretched soldiers, Blakeney?" + +"Oh! they'll be all right for twenty-four hours. They can't starve till +then, and by that time the concierge will have realised that there's +something wrong with the door of No. 12 and will come in to investigate +the matter. Are they securely bound, though?" + +"And gagged! Rather!" ejaculated one of the others. "Odds life, +Blakeney!" he added enthusiastically, "that was a fine bit of work!" + + + + +VI + +HOW JEAN PIERRE MET THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL + +As told by Himself + + +I + +Ah, monsieur! the pity of it, the pity! Surely there are sins which le +bon Dieu Himself will condone. And if not--well, I had to risk His +displeasure anyhow. Could I see them both starve, monsieur? I ask you! +and M. le Vicomte had become so thin, so thin, his tiny, delicate bones +were almost through his skin. And Mme. la Marquise! an angel, monsieur! +Why, in the happy olden days, before all these traitors and assassins +ruled in France, M. and Mme. la Marquise lived only for the child, and +then to see him dying--yes, dying, there was no shutting one's eyes to +that awful fact--M. le Vicomte de Mortain was dying of starvation and of +disease. + +There we were all herded together in a couple of attics--one of which +little more than a cupboard--at the top of a dilapidated half-ruined +house in the Rue des Pipots--Mme. la Marquise, M. le Vicomte and I--just +think of that, monsieur! M. le Marquis had his chateau, as no doubt you +know, on the outskirts of Lyons. A loyal high-born gentleman; was it +likely, I ask you, that he would submit passively to the rule of those +execrable revolutionaries who had murdered their King, outraged their +Queen and Royal family, and, God help them! had already perpetrated +every crime and every abomination for which of a truth there could be no +pardon either on earth or in Heaven? He joined that plucky but, alas! +small and ill-equipped army of royalists who, unable to save their King, +were at least determined to avenge him. + +Well, you know well enough what happened. The counter-revolution failed; +the revolutionary army brought Lyons down to her knees after a siege of +two months. She was then marked down as a rebel city, and after the +abominable decree of October 9th had deprived her of her very name, and +Couthon had exacted bloody reprisals from the entire population for its +loyalty to the King, the infamous Laporte was sent down in order finally +to stamp out the lingering remnants of the rebellion. By that time, +monsieur, half the city had been burned down, and one-tenth and more of +the inhabitants--men, women, and children--had been massacred in cold +blood, whilst most of the others had fled in terror from the appalling +scene of ruin and desolation. Laporte completed the execrable work so +ably begun by Couthon. He was a very celebrated and skilful doctor at +the Faculty of Medicine, now turned into a human hyena in the name of +Liberty and Fraternity. + +M. le Marquis contrived to escape with the scattered remnant of the +Royalist army into Switzerland. But Mme la Marquise throughout all these +strenuous times had stuck to her post at the chateau like the valiant +creature that she was. When Couthon entered Lyons at the head of the +revolutionary army, the whole of her household fled, and I was left +alone to look after her and M. le Vicomte. + +Then one day when I had gone into Lyons for provisions, I suddenly +chanced to hear outside an eating-house that which nearly froze the +marrow in my old bones. A captain belonging to the Revolutionary Guard +was transmitting to his sergeant certain orders, which he had apparently +just received. + +The orders were to make a perquisition at ten o'clock this same evening +in the chateau of Mortaine as the Marquis was supposed to be in hiding +there, and in any event to arrest every man, woman, and child who was +found within its walls. + +"Citizen Laporte," the captain concluded, "knows for a certainty that +the ci-devant Marquise and her brat are still there, even if the Marquis +has fled like the traitor that he is. Those cursed English spies who +call themselves the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel have been very +active in Lyons of late, and citizen Laporte is afraid that they might +cheat the guillotine of the carcase of those aristos, as they have +already succeeded in doing in the case of a large number of traitors." + +I did not, of course, wait to hear any more of that abominable talk. I +sped home as fast as my old legs would carry me. That self-same evening, +as soon as it was dark, Mme. la Marquise, carrying M. le Vicomte in her +arms and I carrying a pack with a few necessaries on my back, left the +ancestral home of the Mortaines never to return to it again: for within +an hour of our flight a detachment of the revolutionary army made a +descent upon the chateau; they ransacked it from attic to cellar, and +finding nothing there to satisfy their lust of hate, they burned the +stately mansion down to the ground. + +We were obliged to take refuge in Lyons, at any rate for a time. Great +as was the danger inside the city, it was infinitely greater on the high +roads, unless we could arrange for some vehicle to take us a +considerable part of the way to the frontier, and above all for some +sort of passports--forged or otherwise--to enable us to pass the various +toll-gates on the road, where vigilance was very strict. So we wandered +through the ruined and deserted streets of the city in search of +shelter, but found every charred and derelict house full of miserable +tramps and destitutes like ourselves. Half dead with fatigue, Mme. la +Marquise was at last obliged to take refuge in one of these houses which +was situated in the Rue des Pipots. Every room was full to overflowing +with a miserable wreckage of humanity thrown hither by the tide of +anarchy and of bloodshed. But at the top of the house we found an attic. +It was empty save for a couple of chairs, a table and a broken-down +bedstead on which were a ragged mattress and pillow. + +Here, monsieur, we spent over three weeks, at the end of which time M. +le Vicomte fell ill, and then there followed days, monsieur, through +which I would not like my worst enemy to pass. + +Mme. la Marquise had only been able to carry away in her flight what +ready money she happened to have in the house at the time. Securities, +property, money belonging to aristocrats had been ruthlessly confiscated +by the revolutionary government in Lyons. Our scanty resources rapidly +became exhausted, and what was left had to be kept for milk and +delicacies for M. le Vicomte. I tramped through the streets in search of +a doctor, but most of them had been arrested on some paltry charge or +other of rebellion, whilst others had fled from the city. There was only +that infamous Laporte--a vastly clever doctor, I knew--but as soon take +a lamb to a hungry lion as the Vicomte de Mortaine to that bloodthirsty +cut-throat. + +Then one day our last franc went and we had nothing left. Mme. la +Marquise had not touched food for two days. I had stood at the corner of +the street, begging all the day until I was driven off by the gendarmes. +I had only obtained three sous from the passers-by. I bought some milk +and took it home for M. le Vicomte. The following morning when I entered +the larger attic I found that Mme. la Marquise had fainted from +inanition. + +I spent the whole of the day begging in the streets and dodging the +guard, and even so I only collected four sous. I could have got more +perhaps, only that at about midday the smell of food from an +eating-house turned me sick and faint, and when I regained consciousness +I found myself huddled up under a doorway and evening gathering in fast +around me. If Mme. la Marquise could go two days without food I ought to +go four. I struggled to my feet; fortunately I had retained possession +of my four sous, else of a truth I would not have had the courage to go +back to the miserable attic which was the only home I knew. + +I was wending my way along as fast as I could--for I knew that Mme. la +Marquise would be getting terribly anxious--when, just as I turned into +the Rue Blanche, I spied two gentlemen--obviously strangers, for they +were dressed with a luxury and care with which we had long ceased to be +familiar in Lyons--walking rapidly towards me. A moment or two later +they came to a halt, not far from where I was standing, and I heard the +taller one of the two say to the other in English--a language with which +I am vaguely conversant: "All right again this time, what, Tony?" + +Both laughed merrily like a couple of schoolboys playing truant, and +then they disappeared under the doorway of a dilapidated house, whilst I +was left wondering how two such elegant gentlemen dared be abroad in +Lyons these days, seeing that every man, woman and child who was dressed +in anything but threadbare clothes was sure to be insulted in the +streets for an aristocrat, and as often as not summarily arrested as a +traitor. + +However, I had other things to think about, and had already dismissed +the little incident from my mind, when at the bottom of the Rue Blanche +I came upon a knot of gaffers, men and women, who were talking and +gesticulating very excitedly outside the door of a cook-shop. At first I +did not take much notice of what was said: my eyes were glued to the +front of the shop, on which were displayed sundry delicacies of the kind +which makes a wretched, starved beggar's mouth water as he goes by; a +roast capon especially attracted my attention, together with a bottle of +red wine; these looked just the sort of luscious food which Mme. la +Marquise would relish. + +Well, sir, the law of God says: "Thou shalt not covet!" and no doubt +that I committed a grievous sin when my hungry eyes fastened upon that +roast capon and that bottle of Burgundy. We also know the stories of +Judas Iscariot and of Jacob's children who sold their own brother Joseph +into slavery--such a crime, monsieur, I took upon my conscience then; +for just as the vision of Mme. la Marquise eating that roast capon and +drinking that Burgundy rose before my eyes, my ears caught some +fragments of the excited conversation which was going on all around me. + +"He went this way!" someone said. + +"No; that!" protested another. + +"There's no sign of him now, anyway." + +The owner of the shop was standing on his own doorstep, his legs wide +apart, one arm on his wide hip, the other still brandishing the knife +wherewith he had been carving for his customers. + +"He can't have gone far," he said, as he smacked his thick lips. + +"The impudent rascal, flaunting such fine clothes--like the aristo that +he is." + +"Bah! these cursed English! They are aristos all of them! And this one +with his followers is no better than a spy!" + +"Paid by that damned English Government to murder all our patriots and +to rob the guillotine of her just dues." + +"They say he had a hand in the escape of the ci-devant Duc de Sermeuse +and all his brats from the very tumbril which was taking them to +execution." + +A cry of loathing and execration followed this statement. There was +vigorous shaking of clenched fists and then a groan of baffled rage. + +"We almost had him this time. If it had not been for these confounded, +ill-lighted streets--" + +"I would give something," concluded the shopkeeper, "if we could lay him +by the heels." + +"What would you give, citizen Dompierre?" queried a woman in the crowd, +with a ribald laugh, "one of your roast capons?" + +"Aye, little mother," he replied jovially, "and a bottle of my best +Burgundy to boot, to drink confusion to that meddlesome Englishman and +his crowd and a speedy promenade up the steps of the guillotine." + +Monsieur, I assure you that at that moment my heart absolutely stood +still. The tempter stood at my elbow and whispered, and I deliberately +smothered the call of my conscience. I did what Joseph's brethren did, +what brought Judas Iscariot to hopeless remorse. There was no doubt that +the hue and cry was after the two elegantly dressed gentlemen whom I had +seen enter the dilapidated house in the Rue Blanche. For a second or two +I closed my eyes and deliberately conjured up the vision of Mme. la +Marquise fainting for lack of food, and of M. le Vicomte dying for want +of sustenance; then I worked my way to the door of the shop and accosted +the burly proprietor with as much boldness as I could muster. + +"The two Englishmen passed by me at the top of the Rue Blanche," I said +to him. "They went into a house ... I can show you which it is---" + +In a moment I was surrounded by a screeching, gesticulating crowd. I +told my story as best I could; there was no turning back now from the +path of cowardice and of crime. I saw that brute Dompierre pick up the +largest roast capon from the front of his shop, together with a bottle +of that wine which I had coveted; then he thrust both these treasures +into my trembling hands and said: + +"En avant!" + +And we all started to run up the street, shouting: "Death to the English +spies!" I was the hero of the expedition. Dompierre and another man +carried me, for I was too weak to go as fast as they wished. I was +hugging the capon and the bottle of wine to my heart; I had need to do +that, so as to still the insistent call of my conscience, for I felt a +coward--a mean, treacherous, abominable coward! + +When we reached the house and I pointed it out to Dompierre, the crowd +behind us gave a cry of triumph. In the topmost storey a window was +thrown open, two heads appeared silhouetted against the light within, +and the cry of triumph below was answered by a merry, prolonged laugh +from above. + +I was too dazed to realise very clearly what happened after that. +Dompierre, I know, kicked open the door of the house, and the crowd +rushed in, in his wake. I managed to keep my feet and to work my way +gradually out of the crowd. I must have gone on mechanically, almost +unconsciously, for the next thing that I remember with any distinctness +was that I found myself once more speeding down the Rue Blanche, with +all the yelling and shouting some little way behind me. + +With blind instinct, too, I had clung to the capon and the wine, the +price of my infamy. I was terribly weak and felt sick and faint, but I +struggled on for a while, until my knees refused me service and I came +down on my two hands, whilst the capon rolled away into the gutter, and +the bottle of Burgundy fell with a crash against the pavement, +scattering its precious contents in every direction. + +There I lay, wretched, despairing, hardly able to move, when suddenly I +heard rapid and firm footsteps immediately behind me, and the next +moment two firm hands had me under the arms, and I heard a voice saying: + +"Steady, old friend. Can you get up? There! Is that better?" + +The same firm hands raised me to my feet. At first I was too dazed to +see anything, but after a moment or two I was able to look around me, +and, by the light of a street lanthorn immediately overhead, I +recognised the tall, elegantly dressed Englishman and his friend, whom I +had just betrayed to the fury of Dompierre and a savage mob. + +I thought that I was dreaming, and I suppose that my eyes betrayed the +horror which I felt, for the stranger looked at me scrutinisingly for a +moment or two, then he gave the quaintest laugh I had ever heard in all +my life, and said something to his friend in English, which this time I +failed to understand. + +Then he turned to me: + +"By my faith," he said in perfect French--so that I began to doubt if he +was an English spy after all--"I verily believe that you are the clever +rogue, eh? who obtained a roast capon and a bottle of wine from that +fool Dompierre. He and his boon companions are venting their wrath on +you, old compeer; they are calling you liar and traitor and cheat, in +the intervals of wrecking what is left of the house, out of which my +friend and I have long since escaped by climbing up the neighbouring +gutter-pipes and scrambling over the adjoining roofs." + +Monsieur, will you believe me when I say that he was actually saying all +this in order to comfort me? I could have sworn to that because of the +wonderful kindliness which shone out of his eyes, even through the +good-humoured mockery wherewith he obviously regarded me. Do you know +what I did then, monsieur? I just fell on my knees and loudly thanked +God that he was safe; at which both he and his friend once again began +to laugh, for all the world like two schoolboys who had escaped a +whipping, rather than two men who were still threatened with death. + +"Then it WAS you!" said the taller stranger, who was still laughing so +heartily that he had to wipe his eyes with his exquisite lace +handkerchief. + +"May God forgive me," I replied. + +The next moment his arm was again round me. I clung to him as to a rock, +for of a truth I had never felt a grasp so steady and withal so gentle +and kindly, as was his around my shoulders. I tried to murmur words of +thanks, but again that wretched feeling of sickness and faintness +overcame me, and for a second or two it seemed to me as if I were +slipping into another world. The stranger's voice came to my ear, as it +were through cotton-wool. + +"The man is starving," he said. "Shall we take him over to your +lodgings, Tony? They are safer than mine. He may be able to walk in a +minute or two, if not I can carry him." + +My senses at this partly returned to me, and I was able to protest +feebly: + +"No, no! I must go back--I must--kind sirs," I murmured. "Mme. la +Marquise will be getting so anxious." + +No sooner were these foolish words out of my mouth than I could have +bitten my tongue out for having uttered them; and yet, somehow, it +seemed as if it was the stranger's magnetic personality, his magic voice +and kindly act towards me, who had so basely sold him to his enemies, +which had drawn them out of me. He gave a low, prolonged whistle. + +"Mme. la Marquise?" he queried, dropping his voice to a whisper. + +Now to have uttered Mme. la Marquise de Mortaine's name here in Lyons, +where every aristocrat was termed a traitor and sent without trial to +the guillotine, was in itself an act of criminal folly, and yet--you may +believe me, monsieur, or not--there was something within me just at that +moment that literally compelled me to open my heart out to this +stranger, whom I had so basely betrayed, and who requited my abominable +crime with such gentleness and mercy. Before I fully realised what I was +doing, monsieur, I had blurted out the whole history of Mme. la +Marquise's flight and of M. le Vicomte's sickness to him. He drew me +under the cover of an open doorway, and he and his friend listened to me +without speaking a word until I had told them my pitiable tale to the +end. + +When I had finished he said quietly: + +"Take me to see Mme. la Marquise, old friend. Who knows? perhaps I may +be able to help." + +Then he turned to his friend. + +"Will you wait for me at my lodgings, Tony," he said, "and let Ffoulkes +and Hastings know that I may wish to speak with them on my return?" + +He spoke like one who had been accustomed all his life to give command, +and I marvelled how his friend immediately obeyed him. Then when the +latter had disappeared down the dark street, the stranger once more +turned to me. + +"Lean on my arm, good old friend," he said, "and we must try and walk as +quickly as we can. The sooner we allay the anxieties of Mme. la Marquise +the better." + +I was still hugging the roast capon with one arm, with the other I clung +to him as together we walked in the direction of the Rue des Pipots. On +the way we halted at a respectable eating-house, where my protector gave +me some money wherewith to buy a bottle of good wine and sundry +provisions and delicacies which we carried home with us. + + +II + +Never shall I forget the look of horror which came in Mme. la Marquise's +eyes when she saw me entering our miserable attic in the company of a +stranger. The last of the little bit of tallow candle flickered in its +socket. Madame threw her emaciated arms over her child, just like some +poor hunted animal defending its young. I could almost hear the cry of +terror which died down in her throat ere it reached her lips. But then, +monsieur, to see the light of hope gradually illuminating her pale, wan +face as the stranger took her hand and spoke to her--oh! so gently and +so kindly--was a sight which filled my poor, half-broken heart with joy. + +"The little invalid must be seen by a doctor at once," he said, "after +that only can we think of your ultimate safety." + +Mme. la Marquise, who herself was terribly weak and ill, burst out +crying. "Would I not have taken him to a doctor ere now?" she murmured +through her tears. "But there is no doctor in Lyons. Those who have not +been arrested as traitors have fled from this stricken city. And my +little Jose is dying for want of medical care." + +"Your pardon, madame," he rejoined gently, "one of the ablest doctors in +France is at present in Lyons---" + +"That infamous Laporte," she broke in, horrified. "He would snatch my +sick child from my arms and throw him to the guillotine." + +"He would save your boy from disease," said the stranger earnestly, "his +own professional pride or professional honour, whatever he might choose +to call it, would compel him to do that. But the moment the doctor's +work was done, that of the executioner would commence." + +"You see, milor," moaned Madame in pitiable agony, "that there is no +hope for us." + +"Indeed there is," he replied. "We must get M. le Vicomte well +first--after that we shall see." + +"But you are not proposing to bring that infamous Laporte to my child's +bedside!" she cried in horror. + +"Would you have your child die here before your eyes," retorted the +stranger, "as he undoubtedly will this night?" + +This sounded horribly cruel, and the tone in which it was said was +commanding. There was no denying its truth. M. le Vicomte was dying. I +could see that. For a moment or two madame remained quite still, with +her great eyes, circled with pain and sorrow, fixed upon the stranger. +He returned her gaze steadily and kindly, and gradually that frozen look +of horror in her pale face gave place to one of deep puzzlement, and +through her bloodless lips there came the words, faintly murmured: "Who +are you?" + +He gave no direct reply, but from his little finger he detached a ring +and held it out for her to see. I saw it too, for I was standing close +by Mme. la Marquise, and the flickering light of the tallow candle fell +full upon the ring. It was of gold, and upon it there was an exquisitely +modelled, five-petalled little flower in vivid red enamel. + +Madame la Marquise looked at the ring, then once again up into his face. +He nodded assent, and my heart seemed even then to stop its beating as I +gazed upon his face. Had we not--all of us--heard of the gallant Scarlet +Pimpernel? And did I not know--far better than Mme. la Marquise +herself--the full extent of his gallantry and his self-sacrifice? The +hue and cry was after him. Human bloodhounds were even now on his track, +and he spoke calmly of walking out again in the streets of Lyons and of +affronting that infamous Laporte, who would find glory in sending him to +death. I think he guessed what was passing in my mind, for he put a +finger up to his lip and pointed significantly to M. le Vicomte. + +But it was beautiful to see how completely Mme. la Marquise now trusted +him. At his bidding she even ate a little of the food and drank some +wine--and I was forced to do likewise. And even when anon he declared +his intention of fetching Laporte immediately, she did not flinch. She +kissed M. le Vicomte with passionate fervour, and then gave the stranger +her solemn promise that the moment he returned she would take refuge in +the next room and never move out of it until after Laporte had departed. + +When he went I followed him to the top of the stairs. I was speechless +with gratitude and also with fears for him. But he took my hand and +said, with that same quaint, somewhat inane laugh which was so +characteristic of him: + +"Be of good cheer, old fellow! Those confounded murderers will not get +me this time." + + +III + +Less than half an hour later, monsieur, citizen Laporte, one of the most +skilful doctors in France and one of the most bloodthirsty tyrants this +execrable Revolution has known, was sitting at the bedside of M. le +Vicomte de Mortaine, using all the skill, all the knowledge he possessed +in order to combat the dread disease of which the child was dying, ere +he came to save him--as he cynically remarked in my hearing--for the +guillotine. + +I heard afterwards how it all came about. + +Laporte, it seems, was in the habit of seeing patients in his own house +every evening after he had settled all his business for the day. What a +strange contradiction in the human heart, eh, monsieur? The tiger turned +lamb for the space of one hour in every twenty-four--the butcher turned +healer. How well the English milor had gauged the strange personality of +that redoubtable man! Professional pride--interest in intricate +cases--call it what you will--was the only redeeming feature in +Laporte's abominable character. Everything else in him, every thought, +every action was ignoble, cruel and vengeful. + +Milor that night mingled with the crowd who waited on the human hyena to +be cured of their hurts. It was a motley crowd that filled the dreaded +pro-consul's ante-chamber--men, women and children--all of them too much +preoccupied with their own troubles to bestow more than a cursory glance +on the stranger who, wrapped in a dark mantle, quietly awaited his turn. +One or two muttered curses were flung at the aristo, one or two spat in +his direction to express hatred and contempt, then the door which gave +on the inner chamber would be flung open--a number called--one patient +would walk out, another walk in--and in the ever-recurring incident the +stranger for the nonce was forgotten. + +His turn came--his number being called--it was the last on the list, and +the ante-chamber was now quite empty save for him. He walked into the +presence of the pro-consul. Claude Lemoine, who was on guard in the room +at the time, told me that just for the space of two seconds the two men +looked at one another. Then the stranger threw back his head and said +quietly: + +"There's a child dying of pleurisy, or worse, in an attic in the Rue des +Pipots. There's not a doctor left in Lyons to attend on him, and the +child will die for want of medical skill. Will you come to him, citizen +doctor?" + +It seems that for a moment or two Laporte hesitated. + +"You look to me uncommonly like an aristo, and therefore a traitor," he +said, "and I've half a mind--" + +"To call your guard and order my immediate arrest," broke in milor with +a whimsical smile, "but in that case a citizen of France will die for +want of a doctor's care. Let me take you to the child's bedside, citizen +doctor, you can always have me arrested afterwards." + +But Laporte still hesitated. + +"How do I know that you are not one of those English spies?" he began. + +"Take it that I am," rejoined milor imperturbably, "and come and see the +patient." + +Never had a situation been carried off with so bold a hand. Claude +Lemoine declared that Laporte's mouth literally opened for the call +which would have summoned the sergeant of the guard into the room and +ordered the summary arrest of this impudent stranger. During the veriest +fraction of a second life and death hung in the balance for the gallant +English milor. In the heart of Laporte every evil passion fought the one +noble fibre within him. But the instinct of the skilful healer won the +battle, and the next moment he had hastily collected what medicaments +and appliances he might require, and the two men were soon speeding +along the streets in the direction of the Rue des Pipots. + + * * * * * + +During the whole of that night, milor and Laporte sat together by the +bedside of M. le Vicomte. Laporte only went out once in order to fetch +what further medicaments he required. Mme. la Marquise took the +opportunity of running out of her hiding-place in order to catch a +glimpse of her child. I saw her take milor's hand and press it against +her heart in silent gratitude. On her knees she begged him to go away +and leave her and the boy to their fate. Was it likely that he would go? +But she was so insistent that at last he said: + +"Madame, let me assure you that even if I were prepared to play the +coward's part which you would assign to me, it is not in my power to do +so at this moment. Citizen Laporte came to this house under the escort +of six picked men of his guard. He has left these men stationed on the +landing outside this door." + +Madame la Marquise gave a cry of terror, and once more that pathetic +look of horror came into her face. Milor took her hand and then pointed +to the sick child. + +"Madame," he said, "M. le Vicomte is already slightly better. Thanks to +medical skill and a child's vigorous hold on life, he will live. The +rest is in the hands of God." + +Already the heavy footsteps of Laporte were heard upon the creaking +stairs. Mme. la Marquise was forced to return to her hiding-place. + +Soon after dawn he went. M. le Vicomte was then visibly easier. Laporte +had all along paid no heed to me, but I noticed that once or twice +during his long vigil by the sick-bed his dark eyes beneath their +overhanging brows shot a quick suspicious look at the door behind which +cowered Mme. la Marquise. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind then that +he knew quite well who his patient was. + +He gave certain directions to milor--there were certain fresh +medicaments to be got during the day. While he spoke there was a +sinister glint in his eyes--half cynical, wholly menacing--as he looked +up into the calm, impassive face of milor. + +"It is essential for the welfare of the patient that these medicaments +be got for him during the day," he said dryly, "and the guard have +orders to allow you to pass in and out. But you need have no fear," he +added significantly, "I will leave an escort outside the house to +accompany you on your way." + +He gave a mocking, cruel laugh, the meaning of which was unmistakable. +His well-drilled human bloodhounds would be on the track of the English +spy, whenever the latter dared to venture out into the streets. + +Mme. la Marquise and I were prisoners for the day. We spent it in +watching alternately beside M. le Vicomte. But milor came and went as +freely as if he had not been carrying his precious life in his hands +every time that he ventured outside the house. + +In the evening Laporte returned to see his patient, and again the +following morning, and the next evening. M. le Vicomte was making rapid +progress towards recovery. + +The third day in the morning Laporte pronounced his patient to be out of +danger, but said that he would nevertheless come again to see him at the +usual hour in the evening. Directly he had gone, milor went out in order +to bring in certain delicacies of which the invalid was now allowed to +partake. I persuaded Madame to lie down and have a couple of hours' good +sleep in the inner attic, while I stayed to watch over the child. + +To my horror, hardly had I taken up my stand at the foot of the bed when +Laporte returned; he muttered something as he entered about having left +some important appliance behind, but I was quite convinced that he had +been on the watch until milor was out of sight, and then slipped back in +order to find me and Madame here alone. + +He gave a glance at the child and another at the door of the inner +attic, then he said in a loud voice: + +"Yes, another twenty-four hours and my duties as doctor will cease and +those of patriot will re-commence. But Mme. la Marquise de Mortaine need +no longer be in any anxiety about her son's health, nor will Mme. la +Guillotine be cheated of a pack of rebels." + +He laughed, and was on the point of turning on his heel when the door +which gave on the smaller attic was opened and Mme. la Marquise appeared +upon the threshold. + +Monsieur, I had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now in +her overwhelming grief. Her face was as pale as death, her eyes, large +and dilated, were fixed upon the human monster who had found it in his +heart to speak such cruel words. Clad in a miserable, threadbare gown, +her rich brown hair brought to the top of her head like a crown, she +looked more regal than any queen. + +But proud as she was, monsieur, she yet knelt at the feet of that +wretch. Yes, knelt, and embraced his knees and pleaded in such pitiable +accents as would have melted the heart of a stone. She pleaded, +monsieur--ah, not for herself. She pleaded for her child and for me, her +faithful servant, and she pleaded for the gallant gentleman who had +risked his life for the sake of the child, who was nothing to him. + +"Take me!" she said. "I come of a race that have always known how to +die! But what harm has that innocent child done in this world? What harm +has poor old Jean-Pierre done, and, oh ... is the world so full of brave +and noble men that the bravest of them all be so unjustly sent to +death?" + +Ah, monsieur, any man, save one of those abject products of that hideous +Revolution, would have listened to such heartrending accents. But this +man only laughed and turned on his heel without a word. + + * * * * * + +Shall I ever forget the day that went by? Mme. la Marquise was well-nigh +prostrate with terror, and it was heartrending to watch the noble +efforts which she made to amuse M. le Vicomte. The only gleams of +sunshine which came to us out of our darkness were the brief appearances +of milor. Outside we could hear the measured tramp of the guard that had +been set there to keep us close prisoners. They were relieved every six +hours, and, in fact, we were as much under arrest as if we were already +incarcerated in one of the prisons of Lyons. + +At about four o'clock in the afternoon milor came back to us after a +brief absence. He stayed for a little while playing with M. le Vicomte. +Just before leaving he took Madame's hand in his and said very +earnestly, and sinking his voice to the merest whisper: + +"To-night! Fear nothing! Be ready for anything! Remember that the League +of the Scarlet Pimpernel have never failed to succour, and that I hereby +pledge you mine honour that you and those you care for will be out of +Lyons this night." + +He was gone, leaving us to marvel at his strange words. Mme. la Marquise +after that was just like a person in a dream. She hardly spoke to me, +and the only sound that passed her lips was a quaint little lullaby +which she sang to M. le Vicomte ere he dropped off to sleep. + +The hours went by leaden-footed. At every sound on the stairs Madame +started like a frightened bird. That infamous Laporte usually paid his +visits at about eight o'clock in the evening, and after it became quite +dark, Madame sat at the tiny window, and I felt that she was counting +the minutes which still lay between her and the dreaded presence of that +awful man. + +At a quarter before eight o'clock we heard the usual heavy footfall on +the stairs. Madame started up as if she had been struck. She ran to the +bed--almost like one demented, and wrapping the one poor blanket round +M. le Vicomte, she seized him in her arms. Outside we could hear +Laporte's raucous voice speaking to the guard. His usual query: "Is all +well?" was answered by the brief: "All well, citizen." Then he asked if +the English spy were within, and the sentinel replied: "No, citizen, he +went out at about five o'clock and has not come back since." + +"Not come back since five o'clock?" said Laporte with a loud curse. +"Pardi! I trust that that fool Caudy has not allowed him to escape." + +"I saw Caudy about an hour ago, citizen," said the man. + +"Did he say anything about the Englishman then?" + +It seemed to us, who were listening to this conversation with bated +breath, that the man hesitated a moment ere he replied; then he spoke +with obvious nervousness. + +"As a matter of fact, citizen," he said, "Caudy thought then that the +Englishman was inside the house, whilst I was equally sure that I had +seen him go downstairs an hour before." + +"A thousand devils!" cried Laporte with a savage oath, "if I find that +you, citizen sergeant, or Caudy have blundered there will be trouble for +you." + +To the accompaniment of a great deal more swearing he suddenly kicked +open the door of our attic with his boot, and then came to a standstill +on the threshold with his hands in the pockets of his breeches and his +legs planted wide apart, face to face with Mme. la Marquise, who +confronted him now, herself like a veritable tigress who is defending +her young. + +He gave a loud, mocking laugh. + +"Ah, the aristos!" he cried, "waiting for that cursed Englishman, what? +to drag you and your brat out of the claws of the human tiger.... Not +so, my fine ci-devant Marquise. The brat is no longer sick--he is well +enough, anyhow, to breathe the air of the prisons of Lyons for a few +days pending a final rest in the arms of Mme. la Guillotine. Citizen +sergeant," he called over his shoulder, "escort these aristos to my +carriage downstairs. When the Englishman returns, tell him he will find +his friends under the tender care of Doctor Laporte. En avant, little +mother," he added, as he gripped Mme. la Marquise tightly by the arm, +"and you, old scarecrow," he concluded, speaking to me over his +shoulder, "follow the citizen sergeant, or----" + +Mme. la Marquise made no resistance. As I told you, she had been, since +dusk, like a person in a dream; so what could I do but follow her noble +example? Indeed, I was too dazed to do otherwise. + +We all went stumbling down the dark, rickety staircase, Laporte leading +the way with Mme. la Marquise, who had M. le Vicomte tightly clasped in +her arms. I followed with the sergeant, whose hand was on my shoulder; I +believe that two soldiers walked behind, but of that I cannot be sure. + +At the bottom of the stairs through the open door of the house I caught +sight of the vague outline of a large barouche, the lanthorns of which +threw a feeble light upon the cruppers of two horses and of a couple of +men sitting on the box. + +Mme. la Marquise stepped quietly into the carriage. Laporte followed +her, and I was bundled in in his wake by the rough hands of the +soldiery. Just before the order was given to start, Laporte put his head +out of the window and shouted to the sergeant: + +"When you see Caudy tell him to report himself to me at once. I will be +back here in half an hour; keep strict guard as before until then, +citizen sergeant." + +The next moment the coachman cracked his whip, Laporte called loudly, +"En avant!" and the heavy barouche went rattling along the ill-paved +streets. + +Inside the carriage all was silence. I could hear Mme. la Marquise +softly whispering to M. le Vicomte, and I marvelled how wondrously +calm--nay, cheerful, she could be. Then suddenly I heard a sound which +of a truth did make my heart stop its beating. It was a quaint and +prolonged laugh which I once thought I would never hear again on this +earth. It came from the corner of the barouche next to where Mme. la +Marquise was so tenderly and gaily crooning to her child. And a kindly +voice said merrily: + +"In half an hour we shall be outside Lyons. To-morrow we'll be across +the Swiss frontier. We've cheated that old tiger after all. What say +you, Mme. la Marquise?" + +It was milor's voice, and he was as merry as a school-boy. + +"I told you, old Jean-Pierre," he added, as he placed that firm hand +which I loved so well upon my knee, "I told you that those confounded +murderers would not get me this time." + +And to think that I did not know him, as he stood less than a quarter of +an hour ago upon the threshold of our attic in the hideous guise of that +abominable Laporte. He had spent two days in collecting old clothes that +resembled those of that infamous wretch, and in taking possession of one +of the derelict rooms in the house in the Rue des Pipots. Then while we +were expecting every moment that Laporte would order our arrest, milor +assumed the personality of the monster, hoodwinked the sergeant on the +dark staircase, and by that wonderfully audacious coup saved Mme. la +Marquise, M. le Vicomte and my humble self from the guillotine. + +Money, of which he had plenty, secured us immunity on the way, and we +were in safety over the Swiss frontier, leaving Laporte to eat out his +tigerish heart with baffled rage. + + + + +VII + +OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH + + +Being a fragment from the diary of Valentine Lemercier, in the +possession of her great-granddaughter. + +We were such a happy family before this terrible Revolution broke out; +we lived rather simply, but very comfortably, in our dear old home just +on the borders of the forest of Compiegne. Jean and Andre were the +twins; just fifteen years old they were when King Louis was deposed from +the throne of France which God had given him, and sent to prison like a +common criminal, with our beautiful Queen Marie Antoinette and the Royal +children, and Madame Elizabeth, who was so beloved by the poor! + +Ah! that seems very, very long ago now. No doubt you know better than I +do all that happened in our beautiful land of France and in lovely Paris +about that time: goods and property confiscated, innocent men, women, +and children condemned to death for acts of treason which they had never +committed. + +It was in August last year that they came to "Mon Repos" and arrested +papa, and maman, and us four young ones and dragged us to Paris, where +we were imprisoned in a narrow and horribly dank vault in the Abbaye, +where all day and night through the humid stone walls we heard cries and +sobs and moans from poor people, who no doubt were suffering the same +sorrows and the same indignities as we were. + +I had just passed my nineteenth birthday, and Marguerite was only +thirteen. Maman was a perfect angel during that terrible time; she kept +up our courage and our faith in God in a way that no one else could have +done. Every night and morning we knelt round her knee and papa sat close +beside her, and we prayed to God for deliverance from our own +afflictions, and for the poor people who were crying and moaning all the +day. + +But of what went on outside our prison walls we had not an idea, though +sometimes poor papa would brave the warder's brutalities and ask him +questions of what was happening in Paris every day. + +"They are hanging all the aristos to the street-lamps of the city," the +man would reply with a cruel laugh, "and it will be your turn next." + +We had been in prison for about a fortnight, when one day--oh! shall I +ever forget it?--we heard in the distance a noise like the rumbling of +thunder; nearer and nearer it came, and soon the sound became less +confused, cries and shrieks could be heard above that rumbling din; but +so weird and menacing did those cries seem that instinctively--though +none of us knew what they meant--we all felt a nameless terror grip our +hearts. + +Oh! I am not going to attempt the awful task of describing to you all +the horrors of that never-to-be-forgotten day. People, who to-day cannot +speak without a shudder of the September massacres, have not the +remotest conception of what really happened on that awful second day of +that month. + +We are all at peace and happy now, but whenever my thoughts fly back to +that morning, whenever the ears of memory recall those hideous yells of +fury and of hate, coupled with the equally horrible cries for pity, +which pierced through the walls behind which the six of us were +crouching, trembling, and praying, whenever I think of it all my heart +still beats violently with that same nameless dread which held it in its +deathly grip then. + +Hundreds of men, women, and children were massacred in the prisons of +that day--it was a St. Bartholomew even more hideous than the last. + +Maman was trying in vain to keep our thoughts fixed upon God--papa sat +on the stone bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in +his hands; but maman was kneeling on the floor, with her dear arms +encircling us all and her trembling lips moving in continuous prayer. + +We felt that we were facing death--and what a death, O my God! + +Suddenly the small grated window--high up in the dank wall--became +obscured. I was the first to look up, but the cry of terror which rose +from my heart was choked ere it reached my throat. + +Jean and Andre looked up, too, and they shrieked, and so did Marguerite, +and papa jumped up and ran to us and stood suddenly between us and the +window like a tiger defending its young. + +But we were all of us quite silent now. The children did not even cry; +they stared, wide-eyed, paralysed with fear. + +Only maman continued to pray, and we could hear papa's rapid and +stertorous breathing as he watched what was going on at that window +above. + +Heavy blows were falling against the masonry round the grating, and we +could hear the nerve-racking sound of a file working on the iron bars; +and farther away, below the window, those awful yells of human beings +transformed by hate and fury into savage beasts. + +How long this horrible suspense lasted I cannot now tell you; the next +thing I remember clearly is a number of men in horrible ragged clothing +pouring into our vault-like prison from the window above; the next +moment they rushed at us simultaneously--or so it seemed to me, for I +was just then recommending my soul to God, so certain was I that in that +same second I would cease to live. + +It was all like a dream, for instead of the horrible shriek of satisfied +hate which we were all expecting to hear, a whispering voice, commanding +and low, struck our ears and dragged us, as it were, from out the abyss +of despair into the sudden light of hope. + +"If you will trust us," the voice whispered, "and not be afraid, you +will be safely out of Paris within an hour." + +Papa was the first to realise what was happening; he had never lost his +presence of mind even during the darkest moment of this terrible time, +and he said quite calmly and steadily now: + +"What must we do?" + +"Persuade the little ones not to be afraid, not to cry, to be as still +and silent as may be," continued the voice, which I felt must be that of +one of God's own angels, so exquisitely kind did it sound to my ear. + +"They will be quiet and still without persuasion," said papa; "eh, +children?" + +And Jean, Andre, and Marguerite murmured: "Yes!" whilst maman and I drew +them closer to us and said everything we could think of to make them +still more brave. + +And the whispering, commanding voice went on after awhile: + +"Now will you allow yourselves to be muffled and bound, and, after that, +will you swear that whatever happens, whatever you may see or hear, you +will neither move nor speak? Not only your own lives, but those of many +brave men will depend upon your fulfilment of this oath." + +Papa made no reply save to raise his hand and eyes up to where God +surely was watching over us all. Maman said in her gentle, even voice: + +"For myself and my children, I swear to do all that you tell us." + +A great feeling of confidence had entered into her heart, just as it had +done into mine. We looked at one another and knew that we were both +thinking of the same thing: we were thinking of the brave Englishman and +his gallant little band of heroes, about whom we had heard many +wonderful tales--how they had rescued a number of innocent people who +were unjustly threatened with the guillotine; and we all knew that the +tall figure, disguised in horrible rags, who spoke to us with such a +gentle yet commanding voice, was the man whom rumour credited with +supernatural powers, and who was known by the mysterious name of "The +Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Hardly had we sworn to do his bidding than his friends most +unceremoniously threw great pieces of sacking over our heads, and then +proceeded to tie ropes round our bodies. At least, I know that that is +what one of them was doing to me, and from one or two whispered words of +command which reached my ear I concluded that papa and maman and the +children were being dealt with in the same summary way. + +I felt hot and stifled under that rough bit of sacking, but I would not +have moved or even sighed for worlds. Strangely enough, as soon as my +eyes and ears were shut off from the sounds and sights immediately round +me, I once more became conscious of the horrible and awful din which was +going on, not only on the other side of our prison walls, but inside the +whole of the Abbaye building and in the street beyond. + +Once more I heard those terrible howls of rage and of satisfied hatred, +uttered by the assassins who were being paid by the government of our +beautiful country to butcher helpless prisoners in their hundreds. + +Suddenly I felt myself hoisted up off my feet and slung up on to a pair +of shoulders that must have been very powerful indeed, for I am no light +weight, and once more I heard the voice, the very sound of which was +delight, quite close to my ear this time, giving a brief and +comprehensive command: + +"All ready!--remember your part--en avant!" + +Then it added in English. "Here, Tony, you start kicking against the +door whilst we begin to shout!" + +I loved those few words of English, and hoped that maman had heard them +too, for it would confirm her--as it did me--in the happy knowledge that +God and a brave man had taken our rescue in hand. + +But from that moment we might have all been in the very ante-chamber of +hell. I could hear the violent kicks against the heavy door of our +prison, and our brave rescuers seemed suddenly to be transformed into a +cageful of wild beasts. Their shouts and yells were as horrible as any +that came to us from the outside, and I must say that the gentle, firm +voice which I had learnt to love was as execrable as any I could hear. + +Apparently the door would not yield, as the blows against it became more +and more violent, and presently from somewhere above my head--the window +presumably--there came a rough call, and a raucous laugh: + +"Why? what in the name of---- is happening here?" + +And the voice near me answered back equally roughly: "A quarry of +six--but we are caught in this confounded trap--get the door open for +us, citizen--we want to get rid of this booty and go in search for +more." + +A horrible laugh was the reply from above, and the next instant I heard +a terrific crash; the door had at last been burst open, either from +within or without, I could not tell which, and suddenly all the din, the +cries, the groans, the hideous laughter and bibulous songs which had +sounded muffled up to now burst upon us with all their hideousness. + +That was, I think, the most awful moment of that truly fearful hour. I +could not have moved then, even had I wished or been able to do so; but +I knew that between us all and a horrible, yelling, murdering mob there +was now nothing--except the hand of God and the heroism of a band of +English gentlemen. + +Together they gave a cry--as loud, as terrifying as any that were +uttered by the butchering crowd in the building, and with a wild rush +they seemed to plunge with us right into the thick of the awful melee. + +At least, that is what it all felt like to me, and afterwards I heard +from our gallant rescuer himself that that is exactly what he and his +friends did. There were eight of them altogether, and we four young ones +had each been hoisted on a pair of devoted shoulders, whilst maman and +papa were each carried by two men. + +I was lying across the finest pair of shoulders in the world, and close +to me was beating the bravest heart on God's earth. + +Thus burdened, these eight noble English gentlemen charged right through +an army of butchering, howling brutes, they themselves howling with the +fiercest of them. + +All around me I heard weird and terrific cries: "What ho! citizens--what +have you there?" + +"Six aristos!" shouted my hero boldly as he rushed on, forging his way +through the crowd. + +"What are you doing with them?" yelled a raucous voice. + +"Food for the starving fish in the river," was the ready response. +"Stand aside, citizen," he added, with a round curse; "I have my orders +from citizen Danton himself about these six aristos. You hinder me at +your peril." + +He was challenged over and over again in the same way, and so were his +friends who were carrying papa and maman and the children; but they were +always ready with a reply, ready with an invective or a curse; with eyes +that could not see, one could imagine them as hideous, as vengeful, as +cruel as the rest of the crowd. + +I think that soon I must have fainted from sheer excitement and terror, +for I remember nothing more till I felt myself deposited on a hard +floor, propped against the wall, and the stifling piece of sacking taken +off my head and face. + +I looked around me, dazed and bewildered; gradually the horrors of the +past hour came back to me, and I had to close my eyes again, for I felt +sick and giddy with the sheer memory of it all. + +But presently I felt stronger and looked around me again. Jean and Andre +were squatting in a corner close by, gazing wide-eyed at the group of +men in filthy, ragged clothing, who sat round a deal table in the centre +of a small, ill-furnished room. + +Maman was lying on a horsehair sofa at the other end of the room, with +Marguerite beside her, and papa sat in a low chair by her side, holding +her hand. + +The voice I loved was speaking in its quaint, somewhat drawly cadence: + +"You are quite safe now, my dear Monsieur Lemercier," it said; "after +Madame and the young people have had a rest, some of my friends will +find you suitable disguises, and they will escort you out of Paris, as +they have some really genuine passports in their possessions, which we +obtain from time to time through the agency of a personage highly placed +in this murdering government, and with the help of English banknotes. +Those passports are not always unchallenged, I must confess," added my +hero with a quaint laugh; "but to-night everyone is busy murdering in +one part of Paris, so the other parts are comparatively safe." + +Then he turned to one of his friends and spoke to him in English: + +"You had better see this through, Tony," he said, "with Hastings and +Mackenzie. Three of you will be enough; I shall have need of the +others." + +No one seemed to question his orders. He had spoken, and the others made +ready to obey. Just then papa spoke up: + +"How are we going to thank you, sir?" he asked, speaking broken English, +but with his habitual dignity of manner. + +"By leaving your welfare in our hands, Monsieur," replied our gallant +rescuer quietly. + +Papa tried to speak again, but the Englishman put up his hand to stop +any further talk. + +"There is no time now, Monsieur," he said with gentle courtesy. "I must +leave you, as I have much work yet to do." + +"Where are you going, Blakeney?" asked one of the others. + +"Back to the Abbaye prison," he said; "there are other women and +children to be rescued there!" + + + + +VIII + +THE TRAITOR + + +Not one of them had really trusted him for some time now. Heaven and his +conscience alone knew what had changed my Lord Kulmsted from a loyal +friend and keen sportsman into a surly and dissatisfied +adherent--adherent only in name. + +Some say that lack of money had embittered him. He was a confirmed +gambler, and had been losing over-heavily of late; and the League of the +Scarlet Pimpernel demanded sacrifices of money at times from its +members, as well as of life if the need arose. Others averred that +jealousy against the chief had outweighed Kulmsted's honesty. Certain it +is that his oath of fealty to the League had long ago been broken in the +spirit. Treachery hovered in the air. + +But the Scarlet Pimpernel himself, with that indomitable optimism of +his, and almost maddening insouciance, either did not believe in +Kulmsted's disloyalty or chose not to heed it. + +He even asked him to join the present expedition--one of the most +dangerous undertaken by the League for some time, and which had for its +object the rescue of some women of the late unfortunate Marie +Antoinette's household: maids and faithful servants, ruthlessly +condemned to die for their tender adherence to a martyred queen. And yet +eighteen pairs of faithful lips had murmured words of warning. + +It was towards the end of November, 1793. The rain was beating down in a +monotonous drip, drip, drip on to the roof of a derelict house in the +Rue Berthier. The wan light of a cold winter's morning peeped in through +the curtainless window and touched with its weird grey brush the pallid +face of a young girl--a mere child--who sat in a dejected attitude on a +rickety chair, with elbows leaning on the rough deal table before her, +and thin, grimy fingers wandering with pathetic futility to her tearful +eyes. + +In the farther angle of the room a tall figure in dark clothes was made +one, by the still lingering gloom, with the dense shadows beyond. + +"We have starved," said the girl, with rebellious tears. "Father and I +and the boys are miserable enough, God knows; but we have always been +honest." + +From out the shadows in that dark corner of the room there came the +sound of an oath quickly suppressed. + +"Honest!" exclaimed the man, with a harsh, mocking laugh, which made the +girl wince as if with physical pain. "Is it honest to harbour the +enemies of your country? Is it honest---" + +But quickly he checked himself, biting his lips with vexation, feeling +that his present tactics were not like to gain the day. + +He came out of the gloom and approached the girl with every outward sign +of eagerness. He knelt on the dusty floor beside her, his arms stole +round her meagre shoulders, and his harsh voice was subdued to tones of +gentleness. + +"I was only thinking of your happiness, Yvonne," he said tenderly; "of +poor blind papa and the two boys to whom you have been such a devoted +little mother. My only desire is that you should earn the gratitude of +your country by denouncing her most bitter enemy--an act of patriotism +which will place you and those for whom you care for ever beyond the +reach of sorrow or of want." + +The voice, the appeal, the look of love, was more than the poor, simple +girl could resist. Milor was so handsome, so kind, so good. + +It had all been so strange: these English aristocrats coming here, she +knew not whence, and who seemed fugitives even though they had plenty of +money to spend. Two days ago they had sought shelter like malefactors +escaped from justice--in this same tumbledown, derelict house where she, +Yvonne, with her blind father and two little brothers, crept in of +nights, or when the weather was too rough for them all to stand and beg +in the streets of Paris. + +There were five of them altogether, and one seemed to be the chief. He +was very tall, and had deep blue eyes, and a merry voice that went +echoing along the worm-eaten old rafters. But milor--the one whose arms +were encircling her even now--was the handsomest among them all. He had +sought Yvonne out on the very first night when she had crawled shivering +to that corner of the room where she usually slept. + +The English aristocrats had frightened her at first, and she was for +flying from the derelict house with her family and seeking shelter +elsewhere; but he who appeared to be the chief had quickly reassured +her. He seemed so kind and good, and talked so gently to blind papa, and +made such merry jests with Francois and Clovis that she herself could +scarce refrain from laughing through her tears. + +But later on in the night, milor--her milor, as she soon got to call +him--came and talked so beautifully that she, poor girl, felt as if no +music could ever sound quite so sweetly in her ear. + +That was two days ago, and since then milor had often talked to her in +the lonely, abandoned house, and Yvonne had felt as if she dwelt in +Heaven. She still took blind papa and the boys out to beg in the +streets, but in the morning she prepared some hot coffee for the English +aristocrats, and in the evening she cooked them some broth. Oh! they +gave her money lavishly; but she quite understood that they were in +hiding, though what they had to fear, being English, she could not +understand. + +And now milor--her milor--was telling her that these Englishmen, her +friends, were spies and traitors, and that it was her duty to tell +citizen Robespierre and the Committee of Public Safety all about them +and their mysterious doings. And poor Yvonne was greatly puzzled and +deeply distressed, because, of course, whatever milor said, that was the +truth; and yet her conscience cried out within her poor little bosom, +and the thought of betraying those kind Englishmen was horrible to her. + +"Yvonne," whispered milor in that endearing voice of his, which was like +the loveliest music in her ear, "my little Yvonne, you do trust me, do +you not?" + +"With all my heart, milor," she murmured fervently. + +"Then, would you believe it of me that I would betray a real friend?" + +"I believe, milor, that whatever you do is right and good." + +A sigh of infinite relief escaped his lips. + +"Come, that's better!" he said, patting her cheek kindly with his hand. +"Now, listen to me, little one. He who is the chief among us here is the +most unscrupulous and daring rascal whom the world has ever known. He it +is who is called the 'Scarlet Pimpernel!'" + +"The Scarlet Pimpernel!" murmured Yvonne, her eyes dilated with +superstitious awe, for she too had heard of the mysterious Englishman +and of his followers, who rescued aristocrats and traitors from the +death to which the tribunal of the people had justly condemned them, and +on whom the mighty hand of the Committee of Public Safety had never yet +been able to fall. + +"This Scarlet Pimpernel," said milor earnestly after a while, "is also +mine own most relentless enemy. With lies and promises he induced me to +join him in his work of spying and of treachery, forcing me to do this +work against which my whole soul rebels. You can save me from this hated +bondage, little one. You can make me free to live again, make me free to +love and place my love at your feet." + +His voice had become exquisitely tender, and his lips, as he whispered +the heavenly words, were quite close to her ear. He, a great gentleman, +loved the miserable little waif whose kindred consisted of a blind +father and two half-starved little brothers, and whose only home was +this miserable hovel, whence milor's graciousness and bounty would soon +take her. + +Do you think that Yvonne's sense of right and wrong, of honesty and +treachery, should have been keener than that primeval instinct of a +simple-hearted woman to throw herself trustingly into the arms of the +man who has succeeded in winning her love? + +Yvonne, subdued, enchanted, murmured still through her tears: + +"What would milor have me do?" + +Lord Kulmsted rose from his knees satisfied. + +"Listen to me, Yvonne," he said. "You are acquainted with the +Englishman's plans, are you not?" + +"Of course," she replied simply. "He has had to trust me." + +"Then you know that at sundown this afternoon I and the three others are +to leave for Courbevoie on foot, where we are to obtain what horses we +can whilst awaiting the chief." + +"I did not know whither you and the other three gentlemen were going, +milor," she replied; "but I did know that some of you were to make a +start at four o'clock, whilst I was to wait here for your leader and +prepare some supper against his coming." + +"At what time did he tell you that he would come?" + +"He did not say; but he did tell me that when he returns he will have +friends with him--a lady and two little children. They will be hungry +and cold. I believe that they are in great danger now, and that the +brave English gentleman means to take them away from this awful Paris to +a place of safety." + +"The brave English gentleman, my dear," retorted milor, with a sneer, +"is bent on some horrible work of spying. The lady and the two children +are, no doubt, innocent tools in his hands, just as I am, and when he no +longer needs them he will deliver them over to the Committee of Public +Safety, who will, of a surety, condemn them to death. That will also be +my fate, Yvonne, unless you help me now." + +"Oh, no, no!" she exclaimed fervently. "Tell me what to do, milor, and I +will do it." + +"At sundown," he said, sinking his voice so low that even she could +scarcely hear, "when I and the three others have started on our way, go +straight to the house I spoke to you about in the Rue Dauphine--you know +where it is?" + +"Oh, yes, milor." + +"You will know the house by its tumbledown portico and the tattered red +flag that surmounts it. Once there, push the door open and walk in +boldly. Then ask to speak with citizen Robespierre." + +"Robespierre?" exclaimed the child in terror. + +"You must not be afraid, Yvonne," he said earnestly; "you must think of +me and of what you are doing for me. My word on it--Robespierre will +listen to you most kindly." + +"What shall I tell him?" she murmured. + +"That a mysterious party of Englishmen are in hiding in this house--that +their chief is known among them as the Scarlet Pimpernel. The rest leave +to Robespierre's discretion. You see how simple it is?" + +It was indeed very simple! Nor did the child recoil any longer from the +ugly task which milor, with suave speech and tender voice, was so +ardently seeking to impose on her. + +A few more words of love, which cost him nothing, a few kisses which +cost him still less, since the wench loved him, and since she was young +and pretty, and Yvonne was as wax in the hands of the traitor. + + +II + +Silence reigned in the low-raftered room on the ground floor of the +house in the Rue Dauphine. + +Citizen Robespierre, chairman of the Cordeliers Club, the most +bloodthirsty, most Evolutionary club of France, had just re-entered the +room. + +He walked up to the centre table, and through the close atmosphere, +thick with tobacco smoke, he looked round on his assembled friends. + +"We have got him," he said at last curtly. + +"Got him! Whom?" came in hoarse cries from every corner of the room. + +"That Englishman," replied the demagogue, "the Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +A prolonged shout rose in response--a shout not unlike that of a caged +herd of hungry wild beasts to whom a succulent morsel of flesh has +unexpectedly been thrown. + +"Where is he?" "Where did you get him?" "Alive or dead?" And many more +questions such as these were hurled at the speaker from every side. + +Robespierre, calm, impassive, immaculately neat in his tightly fitting +coat, his smart breeches, and his lace cravat, waited awhile until the +din had somewhat subsided. Then he said calmly: + +"The Scarlet Pimpernel is in hiding in one of the derelict houses in the +Rue Berthier." + +Snarls of derision as vigorous as the former shouts of triumph drowned +the rest of his speech. + +"Bah! How often has that cursed Scarlet Pimpernel been said to be alone +in a lonely house? Citizen Chauvelin has had him at his mercy several +times in lonely houses." + +And the speaker, a short, thick-set man with sparse black hair plastered +over a greasy forehead, his shirt open at the neck, revealing a powerful +chest and rough, hairy skin, spat in ostentatious contempt upon the +floor. + +"Therefore will we not boast of his capture yet, citizen Roger," resumed +Robespierre imperturbably. "I tell you where the Englishman is. Do you +look to it that he does not escape." + +The heat in the room had become intolerable. From the grimy ceiling an +oil-lamp, flickering low, threw lurid, ruddy lights on tricolour +cockades, on hands that seemed red with the blood of innocent victims of +lust and hate, and on faces glowing with desire and with anticipated +savage triumph. + +"Who is the informer?" asked Roger at last. + +"A girl," replied Robespierre curtly. "Yvonne Lebeau, by name; she and +her family live by begging. There are a blind father and two boys; they +herd together at night in the derelict house in the Rue Berthier. Five +Englishmen have been in hiding there these past few days. One of them is +their leader. The girl believes him to be the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Why has she not spoken of this before?" muttered one of the crowd, with +some scepticism. + +"Frightened, I suppose. Or the Englishman paid her to hold her tongue." + +"Where is the girl now?" + +"I am sending her straight home, a little ahead of us. Her presence +should reassure the Englishman whilst we make ready to surround the +house. In the meanwhile, I have sent special messengers to every gate of +Paris with strict orders to the guard not to allow anyone out of the +city until further orders from the Committee of Public Safety. And now," +he added, throwing back his head with a gesture of proud challenge, +"citizens, which of you will go man-hunting to-night?" + +This time the strident roar of savage exultation was loud and deep +enough to shake the flickering lamp upon its chain. + +A brief discussion of plans followed, and Roger--he with the broad, +hairy chest and that gleam of hatred for ever lurking in his deep-set, +shifty eyes--was chosen the leader of the party. + +Thirty determined and well-armed patriots set out against one man, who +mayhap had supernatural powers. There would, no doubt, be some +aristocrats, too, in hiding in the derelict house--the girl Lebeau, it +seems, had spoken of a woman and two children. Bah! These would not +count. It would be thirty to one, so let the Scarlet Pimpernel look to +himself. + +From the towers of Notre Dame the big bell struck the hour of six, as +thirty men in ragged shirts and torn breeches, shivering beneath a cold +November drizzle, began slowly to wend their way towards the Rue +Berthier. + +They walked on in silence, not heeding the cold or the rain, but with +eyes fixed in the direction of their goal, and nostrils quivering in the +evening air with the distant scent of blood. + + +III + +At the top of the Rue Berthier the party halted. On ahead--some two +hundred metres farther--Yvonne Lebeau's little figure, with her ragged +skirt pulled over her head and her bare feet pattering in the mud, was +seen crossing one of those intermittent patches of light formed by +occasional flickering street lamps, and then was swallowed up once more +by the inky blackness beyond. + +The Rue Berthier is a long, narrow, ill-paved and ill-lighted street, +composed of low and irregular houses, which abut on the line of +fortifications at the back, and are therefore absolutely inaccessible +save from the front. + +Midway down the street a derelict house rears ghostly debris of roofs +and chimney-stacks upward to the sky. A tiny square of yellow light, +blinking like a giant eye through a curtainless window, pierced the wall +of the house. Roger pointed to that light. + +"That," he said, "is the quarry where our fox has run to earth." + +No one said anything; but the dank night air seemed suddenly alive with +all the passions of hate let loose by thirty beating hearts. + +The Scarlet Pimpernel, who had tricked them, mocked them, fooled them so +often, was there, not two hundred metres away; and they were thirty to +one, and all determined and desperate. + +The darkness was intense. + +Silently now the party approached the house, then again they halted, +within sixty metres of it. + +"Hist!" + +The whisper could scarce be heard, so low was it, like the sighing of +the wind through a misty veil. + +"Who is it?" came in quick challenge from Roger. + +"I--Yvonne Lebeau!" + +"Is he there?" was the eager whispered query. + +"Not yet. But he may come at any moment. If he saw a crowd round the +house, mayhap he would not come." + +"He cannot see a crowd. The night is as dark as pitch." + +"He can see in the darkest night," and the girl's voice sank to an awed +whisper, "and he can hear through a stone wall." + +Instinctively, Roger shuddered. The superstitious fear which the +mysterious personality of the Scarlet Pimpernel evoked in the heart of +every Terrorist had suddenly seized this man in its grip. + +Try as he would, he did not feel as valiant as he had done when first he +emerged at the head of his party from under the portico of the +Cordeliers Club, and it was with none too steady a voice that he ordered +the girl roughly back to the house. Then he turned once more to his men. + +The plan of action had been decided on in the Club, under the presidency +of Robespierre; it only remained to carry the plans through with +success. + +From the side of the fortifications there was, of course, nothing to +fear. In accordance with military regulations, the walls of the houses +there rose sheer from the ground without doors or windows, whilst the +broken-down parapets and dilapidated roofs towered forty feet above the +ground. + +The derelict itself was one of a row of houses, some inhabited, others +quite abandoned. It was the front of that row of houses, therefore, that +had to be kept in view. Marshalled by Roger, the men flattened their +meagre bodies against the walls of the houses opposite, and after that +there was nothing to do but wait. + +To wait in the darkness of the night, with a thin, icy rain soaking +through ragged shirts and tattered breeches, with bare feet frozen by +the mud of the road--to wait in silence while turbulent hearts beat +well-nigh to bursting--to wait for food whilst hunger gnaws the +bowels--to wait for drink whilst the parched tongue cleaves to the roof +of the mouth--to wait for revenge whilst the hours roll slowly by and +the cries of the darkened city are stilled one by one! + +Once--when a distant bell tolled the hour of ten--a loud prolonged +laugh, almost impudent in its suggestion of merry insouciance, echoed +through the weird silence of the night. + +Roger felt that the man nearest to him shivered at that sound, and he +heard a volley or two of muttered oaths. + +"The fox seems somewhere near," he whispered. "Come within. We'll wait +for him inside his hole." + +He led the way across the street, some of the men following him. + +The door of the derelict house had been left on the latch. Roger pushed +it open. + +Silence and gloom here reigned supreme; utter darkness, too, save for a +narrow streak of light which edged the framework of a door on the right. +Not a sound stirred the quietude of this miserable hovel, only the +creaking of boards beneath the men's feet as they entered. + +Roger crossed the passage and opened the door on the right. His friends +pressed closely round to him and peeped over his shoulder into the room +beyond. + +A guttering piece of tallow candle, fixed to an old tin pot, stood in +the middle of the floor, and its feeble, flickering light only served to +accentuate the darkness that lay beyond its range. One or two rickety +chairs and a rough deal table showed vaguely in the gloom, and in the +far corner of the room there lay a bundle of what looked like heaped-up +rags, but from which there now emerged the sound of heavy breathing and +also a little cry of fear. + +"Yvonne," came in feeble, querulous accents from that same bundle of +wretchedness, "are these the English milors come back at last?" + +"No, no, father," was the quick whispered reply. + +Roger swore a loud oath, and two puny voices began to whimper piteously. + +"It strikes me the wench has been fooling us," muttered one of the men +savagely. + +The girl had struggled to her feet. She crouched in the darkness, and +two little boys, half-naked and shivering, were clinging to her skirts. +The rest of the human bundle seemed to consist of an oldish man, with +long, gaunt legs and arms blue with the cold. He turned vague, wide-open +eyes in the direction whence had come the harsh voices. + +"Are they friends, Yvonne?" he asked anxiously. + +The girl did her best to reassure him. + +"Yes, yes, father," she whispered close to his ear, her voice scarce +above her breath; "they are good citizens who hoped to find the English +milor here. They are disappointed that he has not yet come." + +"Ah! but he will come, of a surety," said the old man in that querulous +voice of his. "He left his beautiful clothes here this morning, and +surely he will come to fetch them." And his long, thin hand pointed +towards a distant corner of the room. + +Roger and his friends, looking to where he was pointing, saw a parcel of +clothes, neatly folded, lying on one of the chairs. Like so many wild +cats snarling at sight of prey, they threw themselves upon those +clothes, tearing them out from one another's hands, turning them over +and over as if to force the cloth and satin to yield up the secret that +lay within their folds. + +In the skirmish a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. Roger seized +it with avidity, and, crouching on the floor, smoothed the paper out +against his knee. + +It contained a few hastily scrawled words, and by the feeble light of +the fast-dying candle Roger spelt them out laboriously: + +"If the finder of these clothes will take them to the cross-roads +opposite the foot-bridge which leads straight to Courbevoie, and will do +so before the clock of Courbevoie Church has struck the hour of +midnight, he will be rewarded with the sum of five hundred francs." + +"There is something more, citizen Roger," said a raucous voice close to +his ear. + +"Look! Look, citizen--in the bottom corner of the paper!" + +"The signature." + +"A scrawl done in red," said Roger, trying to decipher it. + +"It looks like a small flower." + +"That accursed Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +And even as he spoke the guttering tallow candle, swaying in its socket, +suddenly went out with a loud splutter and a sizzle that echoed through +the desolate room like the mocking laugh of ghouls. + + +IV + +Once more the tramp through the dark and deserted streets, with the +drizzle--turned now to sleet--beating on thinly clad shoulders. Fifteen +men only on this tramp. The others remained behind to watch the house. +Fifteen men, led by Roger, and with a blind old man, a young girl +carrying a bundle of clothes, and two half-naked children dragged as +camp-followers in the rear. + +Their destination now was the sign-post which stands at the cross-roads, +past the footbridge that leads to Courbevoie. + +The guard at the Maillot Gate would have stopped the party, but Roger, +member of the Committee of Public Safety, armed with his papers and his +tricolour scarf, overruled Robespierre's former orders, and the party +mached out of the gate. + +They pressed on in silence, instinctively walking shoulder to shoulder, +vaguely longing for the touch of another human hand, the sound of a +voice that would not ring weirdly in the mysterious night. + +There was something terrifying in this absolute silence, in such intense +darkness, in this constant wandering towards a goal that seemed for ever +distant, and in all this weary, weary fruitless waiting; and these men, +who lived their life through, drunken with blood, deafened by the cries +of their victims, satiated with the moans of the helpless and the +innocent, hardly dared to look around them, lest they should see +ghoulish forms flitting through the gloom. + +Soon they reached the cross-roads, and in the dense blackness of the +night the gaunt arms of the sign-post pointed ghostlike towards the +north. + +The men hung back, wrapped in the darkness as in a pall, while Roger +advanced alone. + +"Hola! Is anyone there?" he called softly. + +Then, as no reply came, he added more loudly: + +"Hola! A friend--with some clothes found in the Rue Berthier. Is anyone +here? Hola! A friend!" + +But only from the gently murmuring river far away the melancholy call of +a waterfowl seemed to echo mockingly: + +"A friend!" + +Just then the clock of Courbevoie Church struck the midnight hour. + +"It is too late," whispered the men. + +They did not swear, nor did they curse their leader. Somehow it seemed +as if they had expected all along that the Englishman would evade their +vengeance yet again, that he would lure them out into the cold and into +the darkness, and then that he would mock them, fool them, and finally +disappear into the night. + +It seemed futile to wait any longer. They were so sure that they had +failed again. + +"Who goes there?" + +The sound of naked feet and of wooden sabots pattering on the distant +footbridge had caused Roger to utter the quick challenge. + +"Hola! Hola! Are you there?" was the loud, breathless response. + +The next moment the darkness became alive with men moving quickly +forward, and raucous shouts of "Where are they?" "Have you got them?" +"Don't let them go!" filled the air. + +"Got whom?" "Who are they?" "What is it?" were the wild counter-cries. + +"The man! The girl! The children! Where are they?" + +"What? Which? The Lebeau family? They are here with us." + +"Where?" + +Where, indeed? To a call to them from Roger there came no answer, nor +did a hasty search result in finding them--the old man, the two boys, +and the girl carrying the bundle of clothes had vanished into the night. + +"In the name of---, what does this mean?" cried hoarse voices in the +crowd. + +The new-comers, breathless, terrified, shaking with superstitious fear, +tried to explain. + +"The Lebeau family--the old man, the girl, the two boys--we discovered +after your departure, locked up in the cellar of the house--prisoners." + +"But, then--the others?" they gasped. + +"The girl and the children whom you saw must have been some aristocrats +in disguise. The old man who spoke to you was that cursed +Englishman--the Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +And as if in mocking confirmation of these words there suddenly rang, +echoing from afar, a long and merry laugh. + +"The Scarlet Pimpernel!" cried Roger. "In rags and barefooted! At him, +citizens; he cannot have got far!" + +"Hush! Listen!" whispered one of the men, suddenly gripping him by the +arm. + +And from the distance--though Heaven only knew from what direction--came +the sound of horses' hoofs pawing the soft ground; the next moment they +were heard galloping away at breakneck speed. + +The men turned to run in every direction, blindly, aimlessly, in the +dark, like bloodhounds that have lost the trail. + +One man, as he ran, stumbled against a dark mass prone upon the ground. +With a curse on his lips, he recovered his balance. + +"Hold! What is this?" he cried. + +Some of his comrades gathered round him. No one could see anything, but +the dark mass appeared to have human shape, and it was bound round and +round with cords. And now feeble moans escaped from obviously human +lips. + +"What is it? Who is it?" asked the men. + +"An Englishman," came in weak accents from the ground. + +"Your name?" + +"I am called Kulmsted." + +"Bah! An aristocrat!" + +"No! An enemy of the Scarlet Pimpernel, like yourselves. I would have +delivered him into your hands. But you let him escape you. As for me, he +would have been wiser if he had killed me." + +They picked him up and undid the cords from round his body, and later on +took him with them back into Paris. + +But there, in the darkness of the night, in the mud of the road, and +beneath the icy rain, knees were shaking that had long ago forgotten how +to bend, and hasty prayers were muttered by lips that were far more +accustomed to blaspheme. + + + + +IX + +THE CABARET DE LA LIBERTE + + +I + +"Eight!" + +"Twelve!" + +"Four!" + +A loud curse accompanied this last throw, and shouts of ribald laughter +greeted it. + +"No luck, Guidal!" + +"Always at the tail end of the cart, eh, citizen?" + +"Do not despair yet, good old Guidal! Bad beginnings oft make splendid +ends!" + +Then once again the dice rattled in the boxes; those who stood around +pressed closer round the gamesters; hot, avid faces, covered with sweat +and grime, peered eagerly down upon the table. + +"Eight and eleven--nineteen!" + +"Twelve and zero! By Satan! Curse him! Just my luck!" + +"Four and nine--thirteen! Unlucky number!" + +"Now then--once more! I'll back Merri! Ten assignats of the most +worthless kind! Who'll take me that Merri gets the wench in the end?" + +This from one of the lookers-on, a tall, cadaverous-looking creature, +with sunken eyes and broad, hunched-up shoulders, which were perpetually +shaken by a dry, rasping cough that proclaimed the ravages of some +mortal disease, left him trembling as with ague and brought beads of +perspiration to the roots of his lank hair. A recrudescence of +excitement went the round of the spectators. The gamblers sitting round +a narrow deal table, on which past libations had left marks of sticky +rings, had scarce room to move their elbows. + +"Nineteen and four--twenty-three!" + +"You are out of it, Desmonts!" + +"Not yet!" + +"Twelve and twelve!" + +"There! What did I tell you?" + +"Wait! wait! Now, Merri! Now! Remember I have backed you for ten +assignats, which I propose to steal from the nearest Jew this very +night." + +"Thirteen and twelve! Twenty-five, by all the demons and the ghouls!" +came with a triumphant shout from the last thrower. + +"Merri has it! Vive Merri!" was the unanimous and clamorous response. + +Merri was evidently the most popular amongst the three gamblers. Now he +sprawled upon the bench, leaning his back against the table, and +surveyed the assembled company with the air of an Achilles having +vanquished his Hector. + +"Good luck to you and to your aristo!" began his backer lustily--would, +no doubt, have continued his song of praise had not a violent fit of +coughing smothered the words in his throat. The hand which he had raised +in order to slap his friend genially on the back now went with a +convulsive clutch to his own chest. + +But his obvious distress did not apparently disturb the equanimity of +Merri, or arouse even passing interest in the lookers-on. + +"May she have as much money as rumour avers," said one of the men +sententiously. + +Merri gave a careless wave of his grubby hand. + +"More, citizen; more!" he said loftily. + +Only the two losers appeared inclined to scepticism. + +"Bah!" one of them said--it was Desmonts. "The whole matter of the +woman's money may be a tissue of lies!" + +"And England is a far cry!" added Guidal. + +But Merri was not likely to be depressed by these dismal croakings. + +"'Tis simple enough," he said philosophically, "to disparage the goods +if you are not able to buy." + +Then a lusty voice broke in from the far corner of the room: + +"And now, citizen Merri, 'tis time you remembered that the evening is +hot and your friends thirsty!" + +The man who spoke was a short, broad-shouldered creature, with crimson +face surrounded by a shock of white hair, like a ripe tomato wrapped in +cotton wool. + +"And let me tell you," he added complacently, "that I have a cask of rum +down below, which came straight from that accursed country, England, and +is said to be the nectar whereon feeds that confounded Scarlet +Pimpernel. It gives him the strength, so 'tis said, to intrigue +successfully against the representatives of the people." + +"Then by all means, citizen," concluded Merri's backer, still hoarse and +spent after his fit of coughing, "let us have some of your nectar. My +friend, citizen Merri, will need strength and wits too, I'll warrant, +for, after he has married the aristo, he will have to journey to England +to pluck the rich dowry which is said to lie hidden there." + +"Cast no doubt upon that dowry, citizen Rateau, curse you!" broke in +Merri, with a spiteful glance directed against his former rivals, "or +Guidal and Desmonts will cease to look glum, and half my joy in the +aristo will have gone." + +After which, the conversation drifted to general subjects, became +hilarious and ribald, while the celebrated rum from England filled the +close atmosphere of the narrow room with its heady fumes. + + +II + +Open to the street in front, the locality known under the pretentious +title of "Cabaret de la Liberte" was a favoured one among the flotsam +and jetsam of the population of this corner of old Paris; men and +sometimes women, with nothing particular to do, no special means of +livelihood save the battening on the countless miseries and sorrows +which this Revolution, which was to have been so glorious, was bringing +in its train; idlers and loafers, who would crawl desultorily down the +few worn and grimy steps which led into the cabaret from the level of +the street. There was always good brandy or eau de vie to be had there, +and no questions asked, no scares from the revolutionary guards or the +secret agents of the Committee of Public Safety, who knew better than to +interfere with the citizen host and his dubious clientele. There was +also good Rhine wine or rum to be had, smuggled across from England or +Germany, and no interference from the spies of some of those countless +Committees, more autocratic than any ci-devant despot. It was, in fact, +an ideal place wherein to conduct those shady transactions which are +unavoidable corollaries of an unfettered democracy. Projects of +burglary, pillage, rapine, even murder, were hatched within this +underground burrow, where, as soon as evening drew in, a solitary, smoky +oil-lamp alone cast a dim light upon faces that liked to court the +darkness, and whence no sound that was not meant for prying ears found +its way to the street above. The walls were thick with grime and smoke, +the floor mildewed and cracked; dirt vied with squalor to make the place +a fitting abode for thieves and cut-throats, for some of those sinister +night-birds, more vile even than those who shrieked with satisfied lust +at sight of the tumbril, with its daily load of unfortunates for the +guillotine. + +On this occasion the project that was being hatched was one of the most +abject. A young girl, known by some to be possessed of a fortune, was +the stake for which these workers of iniquity gambled across one of mine +host's greasy tables. The latest decree of the Convention, encouraging, +nay, commanding, the union of aristocrats with so-called patriots, had +fired the imagination of this nest of jail-birds with thoughts of +glorious possibilities. Some of them had collected the necessary +information; and the report had been encouraging. + +That self-indulgent aristo, the ci-devant banker Amede Vincent, who had +expiated his villainies upon the guillotine, was known to have been +successful in abstracting the bulk of his ill-gotten wealth and +concealing it somewhere--it was not exactly known where, but thought to +be in England--out of the reach, at any rate, of deserving patriots. + +Some three or four years ago, before the glorious principles of Liberty, +Equality, and Fraternity had made short shrift of all such pestilential +aristocrats, the ci-devant banker, then a widower with an only daughter, +Esther, had journeyed to England. He soon returned to Paris, however, +and went on living there with his little girl in comparative retirement, +until his many crimes found him out at last and he was made to suffer +the punishment which he so justly deserved. Those crimes consisted for +the most part in humiliating the aforesaid deserving patriots with his +benevolence, shaming them with many kindnesses, and the simplicity of +his home-life, and, above all, in flouting the decrees of the +Revolutionary Government, which made every connection with ci-devant +churches and priests a penal offence against the security of the State. + +Amede Vincent was sent to the guillotine, and the representatives of the +people confiscated his house and all his property on which they could +lay their hands; but they never found the millions which he was supposed +to have concealed. Certainly his daughter Esther--a young girl, not yet +nineteen--had not found them either, for after her father's death she +went to live in one of the poorer quarters of Paris, alone with an old +and faithful servant named Lucienne. And while the Committee of Public +Safety was deliberating whether it would be worth while to send Esther +to the guillotine, to follow in her father's footsteps, a certain number +of astute jail-birds plotted to obtain possession of her wealth. + +The wealth existed, over in England; of that they were ready to take +their oath, and the project which they had formed was as ingenious as it +was diabolic: to feign a denunciation, to enact a pretended arrest, to +place before the unfortunate girl the alternative of death or marriage +with one of the gang, were the chief incidents of this inquitous +project, and it was in the Cabaret de la Liberte that lots were thrown +as to which among the herd of miscreants should be the favoured one to +play the chief role in the sinister drama. + +The lot fell to Merri; but the whole gang was to have a share in the +putative fortune--even Rateau, the wretched creature with the hacking +cough, who looked as if he had one foot in the grave, and shivered as if +he were stricken with ague, put in a word now and again to remind his +good friend Merri that he, too, was looking forward to his share of the +spoils. Merri, however, was inclined to repudiate him altogether. + +"Why should I share with you?" he said roughly, when, a few hours later, +he and Rateau parted in the street outside the Cabaret de la Liberte. +"Who are you, I would like to know, to try and poke your ugly nose into +my affairs? How do I know where you come from, and whether you are not +some crapulent spy of one of those pestilential committees?" + +From which eloquent flow of language we may infer that the friendship +between these two worthies was not of very old duration. Rateau would, +no doubt, have protested loudly, but the fresh outer air had evidently +caught his wheezy lungs, and for a minute or two he could do nothing but +cough and splutter and groan, and cling to his unresponsive comrade for +support. Then at last, when he had succeeded in recovering his breath, +he said dolefully and with a ludicrous attempt at dignified reproach: + +"Do not force me to remind you, citizen Merri, that if it had not been +for my suggestion that we should all draw lots, and then play hazard +as to who shall be the chosen one to woo the ci-devant millionairess, +there would soon have been a free fight inside the cabaret, a number of +broken heads, and no decision whatever arrived at; whilst you, who were +never much of a fighter, would probably be lying now helpless, with a +broken nose, and deprived of some of your teeth, and with no chance of +entering the lists for the heiress. Instead of which, here you are, the +victor by a stroke of good fortune, which you should at least have the +good grace to ascribe to me." + +Whether the poor wretch's argument had any weight with citizen Merri, or +whether that worthy patriot merely thought that procrastination would, +for the nonce, prove the best policy, it were impossible to say. Certain +it is that in response to his companion's tirade he contented himself +with a dubious grunt, and without another word turned on his heel and +went slouching down the street. + + +III + +For the persistent and optimistic romanticist, there were still one or +two idylls to be discovered flourishing under the shadow of the grim and +relentless Revolution. One such was that which had Esther Vincent and +Jack Kennard for hero and heroine. Esther, the orphaned daughter of one +of the richest bankers of pre-Revolution days, now a daily governess and +household drudge at ten francs a week in the house of a retired butcher +in the Rue Richelieu, and Jack Kennard, formerly the representative of a +big English firm of woollen manufacturers, who had thrown up his +employment and prospects in England in order to watch over the girl whom +he loved. He, himself an alien enemy, an Englishman, in deadly danger of +his life every hour that he remained in France; and she, unwilling at +the time to leave the horrors of revolutionary Paris while her father +was lingering at the Conciergerie awaiting condemnation, as such +forbidden to leave the city. So Kennard stayed on, unable to tear +himself away from her, and obtained an unlucrative post as accountant in +a small wine shop over by Montmartre. His life, like hers, was hanging +by a thread; any day, any hour now, some malevolent denunciation might, +in the sight of the Committee of Public Safety, turn the eighteen years +old "suspect" into a living peril to the State, or the alien enemy into +a dangerous spy. + +Some of the happiest hours these two spent in one another's company were +embittered by that ever-present dread of the peremptory knock at the +door, the portentous: "Open, in the name of the Law!" the perquisition, +the arrest, to which the only issue, these days, was the guillotine. + +But the girl was only just eighteen, and he not many years older, and at +that age, in spite of misery, sorrow, and dread, life always has its +compensations. Youth cries out to happiness so insistently that +happiness is forced to hear, and for a few moments, at the least, drives +care and even the bitterest anxiety away. + +For Esther Vincent and her English lover there were moments when they +believed themselves to be almost happy. It was in the evenings mostly, +when she came home from her work and he was free to spend an hour or two +with her. Then old Lucienne, who had been Esther's nurse in the happy, +olden days, and was an unpaid maid-of-all-work and a loved and trusted +friend now, would bring in the lamp and pull the well-darned curtains +over the windows. She would spread a clean cloth upon the table and +bring in a meagre supper of coffee and black bread, perhaps a little +butter or a tiny square of cheese. And the two young people would talk +of the future, of the time when they would settle down in Kennard's old +home, over in England, where his mother and sister even now were eating +out their hearts with anxiety for him. + +"Tell me all about the South Downs," Esther was very fond of saying; +"and your village, and your house, and the rambler roses and the +clematis arbour." + +She never tired of hearing, or he of telling. The old Manor House, +bought with his father's savings; the garden which was his mother's +hobby; the cricket pitch on the village green. Oh, the cricket! She +thought that so funny--the men in high, sugar-loaf hats, grown-up men, +spending hours and hours, day after day, in banging at a ball with a +wooden bat! + +"Oh, Jack! The English are a funny, nice, dear, kind lot of people. I +remember--" + +She remembered so well that happy summer which she had spent with her +father in England four years ago. It was after the Bastille had been +stormed and taken, and the banker had journeyed to England with his +daughter in something of a hurry. Then her father had talked of +returning to France and leaving her behind with friends in England. But +Esther would not be left. Oh, no! Even now she glowed with pride at the +thought of her firmness in the matter. If she had remained in England +she would never have seen her dear father again. Here remembrances grew +bitter and sad, until Jack's hand reached soothingly, consolingly out to +her, and she brushed away her tears, so as not to sadden him still more. + +Then she would ask more questions about his home and his garden, about +his mother and the dogs and the flowers; and once more they would forget +that hatred and envy and death were already stalking their door. + + +IV + +"Open, in the name of the Law!" + +It had come at last. A bolt from out the serene blue of their happiness. +A rough, dirty, angry, cursing crowd, who burst through the heavy door +even before they had time to open it. Lucienne collapsed into a chair, +weeping and lamenting, with her apron thrown over her head. But Esther +and Kennard stood quite still and calm, holding one another by the hand, +just to give one another courage. + +Some half dozen men stalked into the little room. Men? They looked like +ravenous beasts, and were unspeakably dirty, wore soiled tricolour +scarves above their tattered breeches in token of their official status. +Two of them fell on the remnants of the meagre supper and devoured +everything that remained on the table--bread, cheese, a piece of +home-made sausage. The others ransacked the two attic-rooms which had +been home for Esther and Lucienne: the little living-room under the +sloping roof, with the small hearth on which very scanty meals were wont +to be cooked, and the bare, narrow room beyond, with the iron bedstead, +and the palliasse on the floor for Lucienne. + +The men poked about everywhere, struck great, spiked sticks through the +poor bits of bedding, and ripped up the palliasse. They tore open the +drawers of the rickety chest and of the broken-down wardrobe, and did +not spare the unfortunate young girl a single humiliation or a single +indignity. + +Kennard, burning with wrath, tried to protest. + +"Hold that cub!" commanded the leader of the party, almost as soon as +the young Englishman's hot, indignant words had resounded above the din +of overturned furniture. "And if he opens his mouth again throw him into +the street!" And Kennard, terrified lest he should be parted from +Esther, thought it wiser to hold his peace. + +They looked at one another, like two young trapped beasts--not +despairing, but trying to infuse courage one into the other by a look of +confidence and of love. Esther, in fact, kept her eyes fixed on her +good-looking English lover, firmly keeping down the shudder of loathing +which went right through her when she saw those awful men coming nigh +her. There was one especially whom she abominated worse than the others, +a bandy-legged ruffian, who regarded her with a leer that caused her an +almost physical nausea. He did not take part in the perquisition, but +sat down in the centre of the room and sprawled over the table with the +air of one who was in authority. The others addressed him as "citizen +Merri," and alternately ridiculed and deferred to him. And there was +another, equally hateful, a horrible, cadaverous creature, with huge +bare feet thrust into sabots, and lank hair, thick with grime. He did +most of the talking, even though his loquacity occasionally broke down +in a racking cough, which literally seemed to tear at his chest, and +left him panting, hoarse, and with beads of moisture upon his low, +pallid forehead. + +Of course, the men found nothing that could even remotely be termed +compromising. Esther had been very prudent in deference to Kennard's +advice; she also had very few possessions. Nevertheless, when the +wretches had turned every article of furniture inside out, one of them +asked curtly: + +"What do we do next, citizen Merri?" + +"Do?" broke in the cadaverous creature, even before Merri had time to +reply. "Do? Why, take the wench to--to--" + +He got no further, became helpless with coughing. Esther, quite +instinctively, pushed the carafe of water towards him. + +"Nothing of the sort!" riposted Merri sententiously. "The wench stays +here!" + +Both Esther and Jack had much ado to suppress an involuntary cry of +relief, which at this unexpected pronouncement had risen to their lips. + +The man with the cough tried to protest. + +"But--" he began hoarsely. + +"I said, the wench stays here!" broke in Merri peremptorily. "Ah ca!" he +added, with a savage imprecation. "Do you command here, citizen Rateau, +or do I?" + +The other at once became humble, even cringing. + +"You, of course, citizen," he rejoined in his hollow voice. "I would +only remark--" + +"Remark nothing," retorted the other curtly. "See to it that the cub is +out of the house. And after that put a sentry outside the wench's door. +No one to go in and out of here under any pretext whatever. Understand?" + +Kennard this time uttered a cry of protest. The helplessness of his +position exasperated him almost to madness. Two men were holding him +tightly by his sinewy arms. With an Englishman's instinct for a fight, +he would not only have tried, but also succeeded in knocking these two +down, and taken the other four on after that, with quite a reasonable +chance of success. That tuberculous creature, now! And that bandy-legged +ruffian! Jack Kennard had been an amateur middle-weight champion in his +day, and these brutes had no more science than an enraged bull! But even +as he fought against that instinct he realised the futility of a +struggle. The danger of it, too--not for himself, but for her. After +all, they were not going to take her away to one of those awful places +from which the only egress was the way to the guillotine; and if there +was that amount of freedom there was bound to be some hope. At twenty +there is always hope! + +So when, in obedience to Merri's orders, the two ruffians began to drag +him towards the door, he said firmly: + +"Leave me alone. I'll go without this unnecessary struggling." + +Then, before the wretches realised his intention, he had jerked himself +free from them and run to Esther. + +"Have no fear," he said to her in English, and in a rapid whisper. "I'll +watch over you. The house opposite. I know the people. I'll manage it +somehow. Be on the look-out." + +They would not let him say more, and she only had the chance of +responding firmly: "I am not afraid, and I'll be on the look-out." The +next moment Merri's compeers seized him from behind--four of them this +time. + +Then, of course, prudence went to the winds. He hit out to the right and +left. Knocked two of those recreants down, and already was prepared to +seize Esther in his arms, make a wild dash for the door, and run with +her, whither only God knew, when Rateau, that awful consumptive +reprobate, crept slyly up behind him and dealt him a swift and heavy +blow on the skull with his weighted stick. Kennard staggered, and the +bandits closed upon him. Those on the floor had time to regain their +feet. To make assurance doubly sure, one of them emulated Rateau's +tactics, and hit the Englishman once more on the head from behind. After +that, Kennard became inert; he had partly lost consciousness. His head +ached furiously. Esther, numb with horror, saw him bundled out of the +room. Rateau, coughing and spluttering, finally closed the door upon the +unfortunate and the four brigands who had hold of him. + +Only Merri and that awful Rateau had remained in the room. The latter, +gasping for breath now, poured himself out a mugful of water and drank +it down at one draught. Then he swore, because he wanted rum, or brandy, +or even wine. Esther watched him and Merri, fascinated. Poor old +Lucienne was quietly weeping behind her apron. + +"Now then, my wench," Merri began abruptly, "suppose you sit down here +and listen to what I have to say." + +He pulled a chair close to him and, with one of those hideous leers +which had already caused her to shudder, he beckoned her to sit. Esther +obeyed as if in a dream. Her eyes were dilated like those of one in a +waking trance. She moved mechanically, like a bird attracted by a +serpent, terrified, yet unresisting. She felt utterly helpless between +these two villainous brutes, and anxiety for her English lover seemed +further to numb her senses. When she was sitting she turned her gaze, +with an involuntary appeal for pity, upon the bandy-legged ruffian +beside her. He laughed. + +"No! I am not going to hurt you," he said with smooth condescension, +which was far more loathsome to Esther's ears than his comrades' savage +oaths had been. "You are pretty and you have pleased me. 'Tis no small +matter, forsooth!" he added, with loud-voiced bombast, "to have earned +the good-will of citizen Merri. You, my wench, are in luck's way. You +realise what has occurred just now. You are amenable to the law which +has decreed you to be suspect. I hold an order for your arrest. I can +have you seized at once by my men, dragged to the Conciergerie, and from +thence nothing can save you--neither your good looks nor the protection +of citizen Merri. It means the guillotine. You understand that, don't +you?" + +She sat quite still; only her hands were clutched convulsively together. +But she contrived to say quite firmly: + +"I do, and I am not afraid." + +Merri waved a huge and very dirty hand with a careless gesture. + +"I know," he said with a harsh laugh. "They all say that, don't they, +citizen Rateau?" + +"Until the time comes," assented that worthy dryly. + +"Until the time comes," reiterated the other. "Now, my wench," he added, +once more turning to Esther, "I don't want that time to come. I don't +want your pretty head to go rolling down into the basket, and to receive +the slap on the face which the citizen executioner has of late taken to +bestowing on those aristocratic cheeks which Mme. la Guillotine has +finally blanched for ever. Like this, you see." + +And the inhuman wretch took up one of the round cushions from the +nearest chair, held it up at arm's length, as if it were a head which he +held by the hair, and then slapped it twice with the palm of his left +hand. The gesture was so horrible and withal so grotesque, that Esther +closed her eyes with a shudder, and her pale cheeks took on a leaden +hue. Merri laughed aloud and threw the cushion down again. + +"Unpleasant, what? my pretty wench! Well, you know what to expect ... +unless," he added significantly, "you are reasonable and will listen to +what I am about to tell you." + +Esther was no fool, nor was she unsophisticated. These were not times +when it was possible for any girl, however carefully nurtured and +tenderly brought up, to remain ignorant of the realities and the +brutalities of life. Even before Merri had put his abominable +proposition before her, she knew what he was driving at. +Marriage--marriage to him! that ignoble wretch, more vile than any dumb +creature! In exchange for her life! + +It was her turn now to laugh. The very thought of it was farcical in its +very odiousness. Merri, who had embarked on his proposal with +grandiloquent phraseology, suddenly paused, almost awed by that strange, +hysterical laughter. + +"By Satan and all his ghouls!" he cried, and jumped to his feet, his +cheeks paling beneath the grime. + +Then rage seized him at his own cowardice. His egregious vanity, wounded +by that laughter, egged him on. He tried to seize Esther by the waist. +But she, quick as some panther on the defence, had jumped up, too, and +pounced upon a knife--the very one she had been using for that happy +little supper with her lover a brief half hour ago. Unguarded, +unthinking, acting just with a blind instinct, she raised it and cried +hoarsely: + +"If you dare touch me, I'll kill you!" + +It was ludicrous, of course. A mouse threatening a tiger. The very next +moment Rateau had seized her hand and quietly taken away the knife. +Merri shook himself like a frowsy dog. + +"Whew!" he ejaculated. "What a vixen! But," he added lightly, "I like +her all the better for that--eh, Rateau? Give me a wench with a +temperament, I say!" + +But Esther, too, had recovered herself. She realised her helplessness, +and gathered courage from the consciousness of it! Now she faced the +infamous villain more calmly. + +"I will never marry you," she said loudly and firmly. "Never! I am not +afraid to die. I am not afraid of the guillotine. There is no shame +attached to death. So now you may do as you please--denounce me, and +send me to follow in the footsteps of my dear father, if you wish. But +whilst I am alive you will never come nigh me. If you ever do but lay a +finger upon me, it will be because I am dead and beyond the reach of +your polluting touch. And now I have said all that I will ever say to +you in this life. If you have a spark of humanity left in you, you will, +at least, let me prepare for death in peace." + +She went round to where poor old Lucienne still sat, like an insentient +log, panic-stricken. She knelt down on the floor and rested her arm on +the old woman's knees. The light of the lamp fell full upon her, her +pale face, and mass of chestnut-brown hair. There was nothing about her +at this moment to inflame a man's desire. She looked pathetic in her +helplessness, and nearly lifeless through the intensity of her pallor, +whilst the look in her eyes was almost maniacal. + +Merri cursed and swore, tried to hearten himself by turning on his +friend. But Rateau had collapsed--whether with excitement or the ravages +of disease, it were impossible to say. He sat upon a low chair, his long +legs, his violet-circled eyes staring out with a look of hebetude and +overwhelming fatigue. Merri looked around him and shuddered. The +atmosphere of the place had become strangely weird and uncanny; even the +tablecloth, dragged half across the table, looked somehow like a shroud. + +"What shall we do, Rateau?" he asked tremulously at last. + +"Get out of this infernal place," replied the other huskily. "I feel as +if I were in my grave-clothes already." + +"Hold your tongue, you miserable coward! You'll make the aristo think +that we are afraid." + +"Well?" queried Rateau blandly. "Aren't you?" + +"No!" replied Merri fiercely. "I'll go now because ... because ... well! +because I have had enough to-day. And the wench sickens me. I wish to +serve the Republic by marrying her, but just now I feel as if I should +never really want her. So I'll go! But, understand!" he added, and +turned once more to Esther, even though he could not bring himself to go +nigh her again. "Understand that to-morrow I'll come again for my +answer. In the meanwhile, you may think matters over, and, maybe, you'll +arrive at a more reasonable frame of mind. You will not leave these +rooms until I set you free. My men will remain as sentinels at your +door." + +He beckoned to Rateau, and the two men went out of the room without +another word. + + +V + +The whole of that night Esther remained shut up in her apartment in the +Petite Rue Taranne. All night she heard the measured tramp, the +movements, the laughter and loud talking of men outside her door. Once +or twice she tried to listen to what they said. But the doors and walls +in these houses of old Paris were too stout to allow voices to filter +through, save in the guise of a confused murmur. She would have felt +horribly lonely and frightened but for the fact that in one window on +the third floor in the house opposite the light of a lamp appeared like +a glimmer of hope. Jack Kennard was there, on the watch. He had the +window open and sat beside it until a very late hour; and after that he +kept the light in, as a beacon, to bid her be of good cheer. + +In the middle of the night he made an attempt to see her, hoping to +catch the sentinels asleep or absent. But, having climbed the five +stories of the house wherein she dwelt, he arrived on the landing +outside her door and found there half a dozen ruffians squatting on the +stone floor and engaged in playing hazard with a pack of greasy cards. +That wretched consumptive, Rateau, was with them, and made a facetious +remark as Kennard, pale and haggard, almost ghostlike, with a white +bandage round his head, appeared upon the landing. + +"Go back to bed, citizen," the odious creature said, with a raucous +laugh. "We are taking care of your sweetheart for you." + +Never in all his life had Jack Kennard felt so abjectly wretched as he +did then, so miserably helpless. There was nothing that he could do, +save to return to the lodging, which a kind friend had lent him for the +occasion, and from whence he could, at any rate, see the windows behind +which his beloved was watching and suffering. + +When he went a few moments ago, he had left the porte cochere ajar. Now +he pushed it open and stepped into the dark passage beyond. A tiny +streak of light filtrated through a small curtained window in the +concierge's lodge; it served to guide Kennard to the foot of the narrow +stone staircase which led to the floors above. Just at the foot of the +stairs, on the mat, a white paper glimmered in the dim shaft of light. +He paused, puzzled, quite certain that the paper was not there five +minutes ago when he went out. Oh! it may have fluttered in from the +courtyard beyond, or from anywhere, driven by the draught. But, even so, +with that mechanical action peculiar to most people under like +circumstances, he stooped and picked up the paper, turned it over +between his fingers, and saw that a few words were scribbled on it in +pencil. The light was too dim to read by, so Kennard, still quite +mechanically, kept the paper in his hand and went up to his room. There, +by the light of the lamp, he read the few words scribbled in pencil: + +"Wait in the street outside." + +Nothing more. The message was obviously not intended for him, and yet.... +A strange excitement possessed him. If it should be! If...! He had +heard--everyone had--of the mysterious agencies that were at work, under +cover of darkness, to aid the unfortunate, the innocent, the helpless. +He had heard of that legendary English gentleman who had before now +defied the closest vigilance of the Committees, and snatched their +intended victims out of their murderous clutches, at times under their +very eyes. + +If this should be...! He scarce dared put his hope into words. He could +not bring himself really to believe. But he went. He ran downstairs and +out into the street, took his stand under a projecting doorway nearly +opposite the house which held the woman he loved, and leaning against +the wall, he waited. + +After many hours--it was then past three o'clock in the morning, and the +sky of an inky blackness--he felt so numb that despite his will a kind +of trance-like drowsiness overcame him. He could no longer stand on his +feet; his knees were shaking; his head felt so heavy that he could not +keep it up. It rolled round from shoulder to shoulder, as if his will no +longer controlled it. And it ached furiously. Everything around him was +very still. Even "Paris-by-Night," that grim and lurid giant, was for +the moment at rest. A warm summer rain was falling; its gentle, +pattering murmur into the gutter helped to lull Kennard's senses into +somnolence. He was on the point of dropping off to sleep when something +suddenly roused him. A noise of men shouting and laughing--familiar +sounds enough in these squalid Paris streets. + +But Kennard was wide awake now; numbness had given place to intense +quivering of all his muscles, and super-keenness of his every sense. He +peered into the darkness and strained his ears to hear. The sound +certainly appeared to come from the house opposite, and there, too, it +seemed as if something or things were moving. Men! More than one or two, +surely! Kennard thought that he could distinguish at least three +distinct voices; and there was that weird, racking cough which +proclaimed the presence of Rateau. + +Now the men were quite close to where he--Kennard--still stood cowering. +A minute or two later they had passed down the street. Their hoarse +voices soon died away in the distance. Kennard crept cautiously out of +his hiding-place. Message or mere coincidence, he now blessed that +mysterious scrap of paper. Had he remained in his room, he might really +have dropped off to sleep and not heard these men going away. There were +three of them at least--Kennard thought four. But, anyway, the number of +watch-dogs outside the door of his beloved had considerably diminished. +He felt that he had the strength to grapple with them, even if there +were still three of them left. He, an athlete, English, and master of +the art of self-defence; and they, a mere pack of drink-sodden brutes! +Yes! He was quite sure he could do it. Quite sure that he could force +his way into Esther's rooms and carry her off in his arms--whither? God +alone knew. And God alone would provide. + +Just for a moment he wondered if, while he was in that state of +somnolence, other bandits had come to take the place of those that were +going. But this thought he quickly dismissed. In any case, he felt a +giant's strength in himself, and could not rest now till he had tried +once more to see her. He crept very cautiously along; was satisfied that +the street was deserted. + +Already he had reached the house opposite, had pushed open the porte +cochere, which was on the latch--when, without the slightest warning, he +was suddenly attacked from behind, his arms seized and held behind his +back with a vice-like grip, whilst a vigorous kick against the calves of +his legs caused him to lose his footing and suddenly brought him down, +sprawling and helpless, in the gutter, while in his ear there rang the +hideous sound of the consumptive ruffian's racking cough. + +"What shall we do with the cub now?" a raucous voice came out of the +darkness. + +"Let him lie there," was the quick response. "It'll teach him to +interfere with the work of honest patriots." + +Kennard, lying somewhat bruised and stunned, heard this decree with +thankfulness. The bandits obviously thought him more hurt than he was, +and if only they would leave him lying here, he would soon pick himself +up and renew his attempt to go to Esther. He did not move, feigning +unconsciousness, even though he felt rather than saw that hideous Rateau +stooping over him, heard his stertorous breathing, the wheezing in his +throat. + +"Run and fetch a bit of cord, citizen Desmonts," the wretch said +presently. "A trussed cub is safer than a loose one." + +This dashed Kennard's hopes to a great extent. He felt that he must act +quickly, before those brigands returned and rendered him completely +helpless. He made a movement to rise--a movement so swift and sudden as +only a trained athlete can make. But, quick as he was, that odious, +wheezing creature was quicker still, and now, when Kennard had turned on +his back, Rateau promptly sat on his chest, a dead weight, with long +legs stretched out before him, coughing and spluttering, yet wholly at +his ease. + +Oh! the humiliating position for an amateur middle-weight champion to +find himself in, with that drink-sodden--Kennard was sure that he was +drink-sodden--consumptive sprawling on the top of him! + +"Don't trouble, citizen Desmonts," the wretch cried out after his +retreating companions. "I have what I want by me." + +Very leisurely he pulled a coil of rope out of the capacious pocket of +his tattered coat. Kennard could not see what he was doing, but felt it +with supersensitive instinct all the time. He lay quite still beneath +the weight of that miscreant, feigning unconsciousness, yet hardly able +to breathe. That tuberculous caitiff was such a towering weight. But he +tried to keep his faculties on the alert, ready for that surprise spring +which would turn the tables, at the slightest false move on the part of +Rateau. + +But, as luck would have it, Rateau did not make a single false move. It +was amazing with what dexterity he kept Kennard down, even while he +contrived to pinion him with cords. An old sailor, probably, he seemed +so dexterous with knots. + +My God! the humiliation of it all. And Esther a helpless prisoner, +inside that house not five paces away! Kennard's heavy, wearied eyes +could perceive the light in her window, five stories above where he lay, +in the gutter, a helpless log. Even now he gave a last desperate shriek: + +"Esther!" + +But in a second the abominable brigand's hand came down heavily upon his +mouth, whilst a raucous voice spluttered rather than said, right through +an awful fit of coughing: + +"Another sound, and I'll gag as well as bind you, you young fool!" + +After which, Kennard remained quite still. + + +VI + +Esther, up in her little attic, knew nothing of what her English lover +was even then suffering for her sake. She herself had passed, during the +night, through every stage of horror and of fear. Soon after midnight +that execrable brigand Rateau had poked his ugly, cadaverous face in at +the door and peremptorily called for Lucienne. The woman, more dead than +alive now with terror, had answered with mechanical obedience. + +"I and my friends are thirsty," the man had commanded. "Go and fetch us +a litre of eau-de-vie." + +Poor Lucienne stammered a pitiable: "Where shall I go?" + +"To the house at the sign of 'Le fort Samson,' in the Rue de Seine," +replied Rateau curtly. "They'll serve you well if you mention my name." + +Of course Lucienne protested. She was a decent woman, who had never been +inside a cabaret in her life. + +"Then it's time you began," was Rateau's dry comment, which was greeted +with much laughter from his abominable companions. + +Lucienne was forced to go. It would, of course, have been futile and +madness to resist. This had occurred three hours since. The Rue de Seine +was not far, but the poor woman had not returned. Esther was left with +this additional horror weighing upon her soul. What had happened to her +unfortunate servant? Visions of outrage and murder floated before the +poor girl's tortured brain. At best, Lucienne was being kept out of the +way in order to make her--Esther--feel more lonely and desperate! She +remained at the window after that, watching that light in the house +opposite and fingering her prayer-book, the only solace which she had. +Her attic was so high up and the street so narrow, that she could not +see what went on in the street below. At one time she heard a great +to-do outside her door. It seemed as if some of the bloodhounds who were +set to watch her had gone, or that others came. She really hardly cared +which it was. Then she heard a great commotion coming from the street +immediately beneath her: men shouting and laughing, and that awful +creature's rasping cough. + +At one moment she felt sure that Kennard had called to her by name. She +heard his voice distinctly, raised as if in a despairing cry. + +After that, all was still. + +So still that she could hear her heart beating furiously, and then a +tear falling from her eyes upon her open book. So still that the gentle +patter of the rain sounded like a soothing lullaby. She was very young, +and was very tired. Out, above the line of sloping roofs and chimney +pots, the darkness of the sky was yielding to the first touch of dawn. +The rain ceased. Everything became deathly still. Esther's head fell, +wearied, upon her folded arms. + +Then, suddenly, she was wide awake. Something had roused her. A noise. +At first she could not tell what it was, but now she knew. It was the +opening and shutting of the door behind her, and then a quick, stealthy +footstep across the room. The horror of it all was unspeakable. Esther +remained as she had been, on her knees, mechanically fingering her +prayer-book, unable to move, unable to utter a sound, as if paralysed. +She knew that one of those abominable creatures had entered her room, +was coming near her even now. She did not know who it was, only guessed +it was Rateau, for she heard a raucous, stertorous wheeze. Yet she could +not have then turned to look if her life had depended upon her doing so. + +The whole thing had occurred in less than half a dozen heart-beats. The +next moment the wretch was close to her. Mercifully she felt that her +senses were leaving her. Even so, she felt that a handkerchief was being +bound over her mouth to prevent her screaming. Wholly unnecessary this, +for she could not have uttered a sound. Then she was lifted off the +ground and carried across the room, then over the threshold. A vague, +subconscious effort of will helped her to keep her head averted from +that wheezing wretch who was carrying her. Thus she could see the +landing, and two of those abominable watchdogs who had been set to guard +her. + +The ghostly grey light of dawn came peeping in through the narrow dormer +window in the sloping roof, and faintly illumined their sprawling forms, +stretched out at full length, with their heads buried in their folded +arms and their naked legs looking pallid and weird in the dim light. +Their stertorous breathing woke the echoes of the bare, stone walls. +Esther shuddered and closed her eyes. She was now like an insentient +log, without power, or thought, or will--almost without feeling. + +Then, all at once, the coolness of the morning air caught her full in +the face. She opened her eyes and tried to move, but those powerful arms +held her more closely than before. Now she could have shrieked with +horror. With returning consciousness the sense of her desperate position +came on her with its full and ghastly significance, its awe-inspiring +details. The grey dawn, the abandoned wretch who held her, and the +stillness of this early morning hour, when not one pitying soul would be +astir to lend her a helping hand or give her the solace of mute +sympathy. So great, indeed, was this stillness that the click of the +man's sabots upon the uneven pavement reverberated, ghoul-like and +weird. + +And it was through that awesome stillness that a sound suddenly struck +her ear, which, in the instant, made her feel that she was not really +alive, or, if alive, was sleeping and dreaming strange and impossible +dreams. It was the sound of a voice, clear and firm, and with a +wonderful ring of merriment in its tones, calling out just above a +whisper, and in English, if you please: + +"Look out, Ffoulkes! That young cub is as strong as a horse. He will +give us all away if you are not careful." + +A dream? Of course it was a dream, for the voice had sounded very close +to her ear; so close, in fact, that ... well! Esther was quite sure that +her face still rested against the hideous, tattered, and grimy coat +which that repulsive Rateau had been wearing all along. And there was +the click of his sabots upon the pavement all the time. So, then, the +voice and the merry, suppressed laughter which accompanied it, must all +have been a part of her dream. How long this lasted she could not have +told you. An hour and more, she thought, while the grey dawn yielded to +the roseate hue of morning. Somehow, she no longer suffered either +terror or foreboding. A subtle atmosphere of strength and of security +seemed to encompass her. At one time she felt as if she were driven +along in a car that jolted horribly, and when she moved her face and +hands they came in contact with things that were fresh and green and +smelt of the country. She was in darkness then, and more than three +parts unconscious, but the handkerchief had been removed from her mouth. +It seemed to her as if she could hear the voice of her Jack, but far +away and indistinct; also the tramp of horses' hoofs and the creaking of +cart-wheels, and at times that awful, rasping cough, which reminded her +of the presence of a loathsome wretch, who should not have had a part in +her soothing dream. + +Thus many hours must have gone by. + +Then, all at once, she was inside a house--a room, and she felt that she +was being lowered very gently to the ground. She was on her feet, but +she could not see where she was. There was furniture; a carpet; a +ceiling; the man Rateau with the sabots and the dirty coat, and the +merry English voice, and a pair of deep-set blue eyes, thoughtful and +lazy and infinitely kind. + +But before she could properly focus what she saw, everything began to +whirl and to spin around her, to dance a wild and idiotic saraband, +which caused her to laugh, and to laugh, until her throat felt choked +and her eyes hot; after which she remembered nothing more. + + +VII + +The first thing of which Esther Vincent was conscious, when she returned +to her senses, was of her English lover kneeling beside her. She was +lying on some kind of couch, and she could see his face in profile, for +he had turned and was speaking to someone at the far end of the room. + +"And was it you who knocked me down?" he was saying, "and sat on my +chest, and trussed me like a fowl?" + +"La! my dear sir," a lazy, pleasant voice riposted, "what else could I +do? There was no time for explanations. You were half-crazed, and would +not have understood. And you were ready to bring all the nightwatchmen +about our ears." + +"I am sorry!" Kennard said simply. "But how could I guess?" + +"You couldn't," rejoined the other. "That is why I had to deal so +summarily with you and with Mademoiselle Esther, not to speak of good +old Lucienne, who had never, in her life, been inside a cabaret. You +must all forgive me ere you start upon your journey. You are not out of +the wood yet, remember. Though Paris is a long way behind, France itself +is no longer a healthy place for any of you." + +"But how did we ever get out of Paris? I was smothered under a pile of +cabbages, with Lucienne on one side of me and Esther, unconscious, on +the other. I could see nothing. I know we halted at the barrier. I +thought we would be recognised, turned back! My God! how I trembled!" + +"Bah!" broke in the other, with a careless laugh. "It is not so +difficult as it seems. We have done it before--eh, Ffoulkes? A +market-gardener's cart, a villainous wretch like myself to drive it, +another hideous object like Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Bart., to lead the +scraggy nag, a couple of forged or stolen passports, plenty of English +gold, and the deed is done!" + +Esther's eyes were fixed upon the speaker. She marvelled now how she +could have been so blind. The cadaverous face was nothing but a splendid +use of grease paint! The rags! the dirt! the whole assumption of a +hideous character was masterly! But there were the eyes, deep-set, and +thoughtful and kind. How did she fail to guess? + +"You are known as the Scarlet Pimpernel," she said suddenly. "Suzanne de +Tournai was my friend. She told me. You saved her and her family, and +now ... oh, my God!" she exclaimed, "how shall we ever repay you?" + +"By placing yourselves unreservedly in my friend Ffoulkes' hands," he +replied gently. "He will lead you to safety and, if you wish it, to +England." + +"If we wish it!" Kennard sighed fervently. + +"You are not coming with us, Blakeney?" queried Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, and +it seemed to Esther's sensitive ears as if a tone of real anxiety and +also of entreaty rang in the young man's voice. + +"No, not this time," replied Sir Percy lightly. "I like my character of +Rateau, and I don't want to give it up just yet. I have done nothing to +arouse suspicion in the minds of my savoury compeers up at the Cabaret +de la Liberte. I can easily keep this up for some time to come, and +frankly I admire myself as citizen Rateau. I don't know when I have +enjoyed a character so much!" + +"You mean to return to the Cabaret de la Liberte!" exclaimed Sir Andrew. + +"Why not?" + +"You will be recognised!" + +"Not before I have been of service to a good many unfortunates, I hope." + +"But that awful cough of yours! Percy, you'll do yourself an injury with +it one day." + +"Not I! I like that cough. I practised it for a long time before I did +it to perfection. Such a splendid wheeze! I must teach Tony to do it +some day. Would you like to hear it now?" + +He laughed, that perfect, delightful, lazy laugh of his, which carried +every hearer with it along the path of light-hearted merriment. Then he +broke into the awful cough of the consumptive Rateau. And Esther Vincent +instinctively closed her eyes and shuddered. + + + + +X + +"NEEDS MUST--" + + +I + +The children were all huddled up together in one corner of the room. +Etienne and Valentine, the two eldest, had their arms round the little +one. As for Lucile, she would have told you herself that she felt just +like a bird between two snakes--terrified and fascinated--oh! especially +by that little man with the pale face and the light grey eyes and the +slender white hands unstained by toil, one of which rested lightly upon +the desk, and was only clenched now and then at a word or a look from +the other man or from Lucile herself. + +But Commissary Lebel just tried to browbeat her. It was not difficult, +for in truth she felt frightened enough already, with all this talk of +"traitors" and that awful threat of the guillotine. + +Lucile Clamette, however, would have remained splendidly loyal in spite +of all these threats, if it had not been for the children. She was +little mother to them; for father was a cripple, with speech and mind +already impaired by creeping paralysis, and maman had died when little +Josephine was born. And now those fiends threatened not only her, but +Etienne who was not fourteen, and Valentine who was not much more than +ten, with death, unless she--Lucile--broke the solemn word which she had +given to M. le Marquis. At first she had tried to deny all knowledge of +M. le Marquis' whereabouts. + +"I can assure M. le Commissaire that I do not know," she had persisted +quietly, even though her heart was beating so rapidly in her bosom that +she felt as if she must choke. + +"Call me citizen Commissary," Lebel had riposted curtly. "I should take +it as a proof that your aristocratic sentiments are not so deep-rooted +as they appear to be." + +"Yes, citizen!" murmured Lucile, under her breath. + +Then the other one, he with the pale eyes and the slender white hands, +leaned forward over the desk, and the poor girl felt as if a mighty and +unseen force was holding her tight, so tight that she could neither +move, nor breathe, nor turn her gaze away from those pale, compelling +eyes. In the remote corner little Josephine was whimpering, and +Etienne's big, dark eyes were fixed bravely upon his eldest sister. + +"There, there! little citizeness," the awful man said, in a voice that +sounded low and almost caressing, "there is nothing to be frightened of. +No one is going to hurt you or your little family. We only want you to +be reasonable. You have promised to your former employer that you would +never tell anyone of his whereabouts. Well! we don't ask you to tell us +anything. + +"All that we want you to do is to write a letter to M. le Marquis--one +that I myself will dictate to you. You have written to M. le Marquis +before now, on business matters, have you not?" + +"Yes, monsieur--yes, citizen," stammered Lucile through her tears. +"Father was bailiff to M. le Marquis until he became a cripple and now +I---" + +"Do not write any letter, Lucile," Etienne suddenly broke in with +forceful vehemence. "It is a trap set by these miscreants to entrap M. +le Marquis." + +There was a second's silence in the room after this sudden outburst on +the part of the lad. Then the man with the pale face said quietly: + +"Citizen Lebel, order the removal of that boy. Let him be kept in +custody till he has learned to hold his tongue." + +But before Lebel could speak to the two soldiers who were standing on +guard at the door, Lucile had uttered a loud cry of agonised protest. + +"No! no! monsieur!--that is citizen!" she implored. "Do not take Etienne +away. He will be silent.... I promise you that he will be silent ... +only do not take him away! Etienne, my little one!" she added, turning +her tear-filled eyes to her brother, "I entreat thee to hold thy +tongue!" + +The others, too, clung to Etienne, and the lad, awed and subdued, +relapsed into silence. + +"Now then," resumed Lebel roughly, after a while, "let us get on with +this business. I am sick to death of it. It has lasted far too long +already." + +He fixed his blood-shot eyes upon Lucile and continued gruffly: + +"Now listen to me, my wench, for this is going to be my last word. +Citizen Chauvelin here has already been very lenient with you by +allowing this letter business. If I had my way I'd make you speak here +and now. As it is, you either sit down and write the letter at citizen +Chauvelin's dictation at once, or I send you with that impudent brother +of yours and your imbecile father to jail, on a charge of treason +against the State, for aiding and abetting the enemies of the Republic; +and you know what the consequences of such a charge usually are. The +other two brats will go to a House of Correction, there to be detained +during the pleasure of the Committee of Public Safety. That is my last +word," he reiterated fiercely. "Now, which is it to be?" + +He paused, the girl's wan cheeks turned the colour of lead. She +moistened her lips once or twice with her tongue; beads of perspiration +appeared at the roots of her hair. She gazed helplessly at her +tormentors, not daring to look on those three huddled-up little figures +there in the corner. A few seconds sped away in silence. The man with +the pale eyes rose and pushed his chair away. He went to the window, +stood there with his back to the room, those slender white hands of his +clasped behind him. Neither the commissary nor the girl appeared to +interest him further. He was just gazing out of the window. + +The other was still sprawling beside the desk, his large, coarse +hand--how different his hands were!--was beating a devil's tatoo upon +the arm of his chair. + +After a few minutes, Lucile made a violent effort to compose herself, +wiped the moisture from her pallid forehead and dried the tears which +still hung upon her lashes. Then she rose from her chair and walked +resolutely up to the desk. + +"I will write the letter," she said simply. + +Lebel gave a snort of satisfaction; but the other did not move from his +position near the window. The boy, Etienne, had uttered a cry of +passionate protest. + +"Do not give M. le Marquis away, Lucile!" he said hotly. "I am not +afraid to die." + +But Lucile had made up her mind. How could she do otherwise, with these +awful threats hanging over them all? She and Etienne and poor father +gone, and the two young ones in one of those awful Houses of Correction, +where children were taught to hate the Church, to shun the Sacraments, +and to blaspheme God! + +"What am I to write?" she asked dully, resolutely closing her ears +against her brother's protest. + +Lebel pushed pen, ink and paper towards her and she sat down, ready to +begin. + +"Write!" now came in a curt command from the man at the window. And +Lucile wrote at his dictation: + + "MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS,--We are in grave trouble. My brother Etienne + and I have been arrested on a charge of treason. This means the + guillotine for us and for poor father, who can no longer speak; and + the two little ones are to be sent to one of those dreadful Houses + of Correction, where children are taught to deny God and to + blaspheme. You alone can save us, M. le Marquis; and I beg you on + my knees to do it. The citizen Commissary here says that you have + in your possession certain papers which are of great value to the + State, and that if I can persuade you to give these up, Etienne, + father and I and the little ones will be left unmolested. M. le + Marquis, you once said that you could never adequately repay my + poor father for all his devotion in your service. You can do it + now, M. le Marquis, by saving us all. I will be at the chateau a + week from to-day. I entreat you, M. le Marquis, to come to me then + and to bring the papers with you; or if you can devise some other + means of sending the papers to me, I will obey your behests.--I am, + M. le Marquis' faithful and devoted servant, + + LUCILE CLAMETTE." + +The pen dropped from the unfortunate girl's fingers. She buried her face +in her hands and sobbed convulsively. The children were silent, awed and +subdued--tired out, too. Only Etienne's dark eyes were fixed upon his +sister with a look of mute reproach. + +Lebel had made no attempt to interrupt the flow of his colleague's +dictation. Only once or twice did a hastily smothered "What the---!" of +astonishment escape his lips. Now, when the letter was finished and duly +signed, he drew it to him and strewed the sand over it. Chauvelin, more +impassive than ever, was once more gazing out of the window. + +"How are the ci-devant aristos to get this letter?" the commissary +asked. + +"It must be put in the hollow tree which stands by the side of the +stable gate at Montorgueil," whispered Lucile. + +"And the aristos will find it there?" + +"Yes. M. le Vicomte goes there once or twice a week to see if there is +anything there from one of us." + +"They are in hiding somewhere close by, then?" + +But to this the girl gave no reply. Indeed, she felt as if any word now +might choke her. + +"Well, no matter where they are!" the inhuman wretch resumed, with +brutal cynicism. "We've got them now--both of them. Marquis! Vicomte!" +he added, and spat on the ground to express his contempt of such titles. +"Citizens Montorgueil, father and son--that's all they are! And as such +they'll walk up in state to make their bow to Mme. la Guillotine!" + +"May we go now?" stammered Lucile through her tears. + +Lebel nodded in assent, and the girl rose and turned to walk towards the +door. She called to the children, and the little ones clustered round +her skirts like chicks around the mother-hen. Only Etienne remained +aloof, wrathful against his sister for what he deemed her treachery. +"Women have no sense of honour!" he muttered to himself, with all the +pride of conscious manhood. But Lucile felt more than ever like a bird +who is vainly trying to evade the clutches of a fowler. She gathered the +two little ones around her. Then, with a cry like a wounded doe she ran +quickly out of the room. + + +II + +As soon as the sound of the children's footsteps had died away down the +corridor, Lebel turned with a grunt to his still silent companion. + +"And now, citizen Chauvelin," he said roughly, "perhaps you will be good +enough to explain what is the meaning of all this tomfoolery." + +"Tomfoolery, citizen?" queried the other blandly. "What tomfoolery, +pray?" + +"Why, about those papers!" growled Lebel savagely. "Curse you for an +interfering busybody! It was I who got information that those +pestilential aristos, the Montorgueils, far from having fled the country +are in hiding somewhere in my district. I could have made the girl give +up their hiding-place pretty soon, without any help from you. What right +had you to interfere, I should like to know?" + +"You know quite well what right I had, citizen Lebel," replied Chauvelin +with perfect composure. "The right conferred upon me by the Committee of +Public Safety, of whom I am still an unworthy member. They sent me down +here to lend you a hand in an investigation which is of grave importance +to them." + +"I know that!" retorted Lebel sulkily. "But why have invented the story +of the papers?" + +"It is no invention, citizen," rejoined Chauvelin with slow emphasis. +"The papers do exist. They are actually in the possession of the +Montorgueils, father and son. To capture the two aristos would be not +only a blunder, but criminal folly, unless we can lay hands on the +papers at the same time." + +"But what in Satan's name are those papers?" ejaculated Lebel with a +fierce oath. + +"Think, citizen Lebel! Think!" was Chauvelin's cool rejoinder. "Methinks +you might arrive at a pretty shrewd guess." Then, as the other's bluster +and bounce suddenly collapsed upon his colleague's calm, accusing gaze, +the latter continued with impressive deliberation: + +"The papers which the two aristos have in their possession, citizen, are +receipts for money, for bribes paid to various members of the Committee +of Public Safety by Royalist agents for the overthrow of our glorious +Republic. You know all about them, do you not?" + +While Chauvelin spoke, a look of furtive terror had crept into Lebel's +eyes; his cheeks became the colour of lead. But even so, he tried to +keep up an air of incredulity and of amazement. + +"I?" he exclaimed. "What do you mean, citizen Chauvelin? What should I +know about it?" + +"Some of those receipts are signed with your name, citizen Lebel," +retorted Chauvelin forcefully. "Bah!" he added, and a tone of savage +contempt crept into his even, calm voice now. "Heriot, Foucquier, Ducros +and the whole gang of you are in it up to the neck: trafficking with our +enemies, trading with England, taking bribes from every quarter for +working against the safety of the Republic. Ah! if I had my way, I would +let the hatred of those aristos take its course. I would let the +Montorgueils and the whole pack of Royalist agents publish those +infamous proofs of your treachery and of your baseness to the entire +world, and send the whole lot of you to the guillotine!" + +He had spoken with so much concentrated fury, and the hatred and +contempt expressed in his pale eyes were so fierce that an involuntary +ice-cold shiver ran down the length of Lebel's spine. But, even so, he +would not give in; he tried to sneer and to keep up something of his +former surly defiance. + +"Bah!" he exclaimed, and with a lowering glance gave hatred for hatred, +and contempt for contempt. "What can you do? An I am not mistaken, there +is no more discredited man in France to-day than the unsuccessful +tracker of the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +The taunt went home. It was Chauvelin's turn now to lose countenance, to +pale to the lips. The glow of virtuous indignation died out of his eyes, +his look became furtive and shamed. + +"You are right, citizen Lebel," he said calmly after a while. +"Recriminations between us are out of place. I am a discredited man, as +you say. Perhaps it would have been better if the Committee had sent me +long ago to expiate my failures on the guillotine. I should at least not +have suffered, as I am suffering now, daily, hourly humiliation at +thought of the triumph of an enemy, whom I hate with a passion which +consumes my very soul. But do not let us speak of me," he went on +quietly. "There are graver affairs at stake just now than mine own." + +Lebel said nothing more for the moment. Perhaps he was satisfied at the +success of his taunt, even though the terror within his craven soul +still caused the cold shiver to course up and down his spine. Chauvelin +had once more turned to the window; his gaze was fixed upon the distance +far away. The window gave on the North. That way, in a straight line, +lay Calais, Boulogne, England--where he had been made to suffer such +bitter humiliation at the hands of his elusive enemy. And immediately +before him was Paris, where the very walls seemed to echo that mocking +laugh of the daring Englishman which would haunt him even to his grave. + +Lebel, unnerved by his colleague's silence, broke in gruffly at last: + +"Well then, citizen," he said, with a feeble attempt at another sneer, +"if you are not thinking of sending us all to the guillotine just yet, +perhaps you will be good enough to explain just how the matter stands?" + +"Fairly simply, alas!" replied Chauvelin dryly. "The two Montorgueils, +father and son, under assumed names, were the Royalist agents who +succeeded in suborning men such as you, citizen--the whole gang of you. +We have tracked them down, to this district, have confiscated their +lands and ransacked the old chateau for valuables and so on. Two days +later, the first of a series of pestilential anonymous letters reached +the Committee of Public Safety, threatening the publication of a whole +series of compromising documents if the Marquis and the Vicomte de +Montorgueil were in any way molested, and if all the Montorgueil +property is not immediately restored." + +"I suppose it is quite certain that those receipts and documents do +exist?" suggested Lebel. + +"Perfectly certain. One of the receipts, signed by Heriot, was sent as a +specimen." + +"My God!" ejaculated Lebel, and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. + +"Yes, you'll all want help from somewhere," retorted Chauvelin coolly. +"From above or from below, what? if the people get to know what +miscreants you are. I do believe," he added, with a vicious snap of his +thin lips, "that they would cheat the guillotine of you and, in the end, +drag you out of the tumbrils and tear you to pieces limb from limb!" + +Once more that look of furtive terror crept into the commissary's +bloodshot eyes. + +"Thank the Lord," he muttered, "that we were able to get hold of the +wench Clamette!" + +"At my suggestion," retorted Chauvelin curtly. "I always believe in +threatening the weak if you want to coerce the strong. The Montorgueils +cannot resist the wench's appeal. Even if they do at first, we can apply +the screw by clapping one of the young ones in gaol. Within a week we +shall have those papers, citizen Lebel; and if, in the meanwhile, no one +commits a further blunder, we can close the trap on the Montorgueils +without further trouble." + +Lebel said nothing more, and after a while Chauvelin went back to the +desk, picked up the letter which poor Lucile had written and watered +with her tears, folded it deliberately and slipped it into the inner +pocket of his coat. + +"What are you going to do?" queried Lebel anxiously. + +"Drop this letter into the hollow tree by the side of the stable gate at +Montorgueil," replied Chauvelin simply. + +"What?" exclaimed the other. "Yourself?" + +"Why, of course! Think you I would entrust such an errand to another +living soul?" + + +III + +A couple of hours later, when the two children had had their dinner and +had settled down to play in the garden, and father been cosily tucked up +for his afternoon sleep, Lucile called her brother Etienne to her. The +boy had not spoken to her since that terrible time spent in the presence +of those two awful men. He had eaten no dinner, only sat glowering, +staring straight out before him, from time to time throwing a look of +burning reproach upon his sister. Now, when she called to him, he tried +to run away, was halfway up the stairs before she could seize hold of +him. + +"Etienne, mon petit!" she implored, as her arms closed around his +shrinking figure. + +"Let me go, Lucile!" the boy pleaded obstinately. + +"Mon petit, listen to me!" she pleaded. "All is not lost, if you will +stand by me." + +"All is lost, Lucile!" Etienne cried, striving to keep back a flood of +passionate tears. "Honour is lost. Your treachery has disgraced us all. +If M. le Marquis and M. le Vicomte are brought to the guillotine, their +blood will be upon our heads." + +"Upon mine alone, my little Etienne," she said sadly. "But God alone can +judge me. It was a terrible alternative: M. le Marquis, or you and +Valentine and little Josephine and poor father, who is so helpless! But +don't let us talk of it. All is not lost, I am sure. The last time that +I spoke with M. le Marquis--it was in February, do you remember?--he was +full of hope, and oh! so kind. Well, he told me then that if ever I or +any of us here were in such grave trouble that we did not know where to +turn, one of us was to put on our very oldest clothes, look as like a +bare-footed beggar as we could, and then go to Paris to a place called +the Cabaret de la Liberte in the Rue Christine. There we were to ask for +the citizen Rateau, and we were to tell him all our troubles, whatever +they might be. Well! we are in such trouble now, mon petit, that we +don't know where to turn. Put on thy very oldest clothes, little one, +and run bare-footed into Paris, find the citizen Rateau and tell him +just what has happened: the letter which they have forced me to write, +the threats which they held over me if I did not write it--everything. +Dost hear?" + +Already the boy's eyes were glowing. The thought that he individually +could do something to retrieve the awful shame of his sister's treachery +spurred him to activity. It needed no persuasion on Lucile's part to +induce him to go. She made him put on some old clothes and stuffed a +piece of bread and cheese into his breeches pocket. + +It was close upon a couple of leagues to Paris, but that run was one of +the happiest which Etienne had ever made. And he did it bare-footed, +too, feeling neither fatigue nor soreness, despite the hardness of the +road after a two weeks' drought, which had turned mud into hard cakes +and ruts into fissures which tore the lad's feet till they bled. + +He did not reach the Cabaret de la Liberte till nightfall, and when he +got there he hardly dared to enter. The filth, the squalor, the hoarse +voices which rose from that cellar-like place below the level of the +street, repelled the country-bred lad. Were it not for the desperate +urgency of his errand he never would have dared to enter. As it was, the +fumes of alcohol and steaming, dirty clothes nearly choked him, and he +could scarce stammer the name of "citizen Rateau" when a gruff voice +presently demanded his purpose. + +He realised now how tired he was and how hungry. He had not thought to +pause in order to consume the small provision of bread and cheese +wherewith thoughtful Lucile had provided him. Now he was ready to faint +when a loud guffaw, which echoed from one end of the horrible place to +the other, greeted his timid request. + +"Citizen Rateau!" the same gruff voice called out hilariously. "Why, +there he is! Here, citizen! there's a blooming aristo to see you." + +Etienne turned his weary eyes to the corner which was being indicated to +him. There he saw a huge creature sprawling across a bench, with long, +powerful limbs stretched out before him. Citizen Rateau was clothed, +rather than dressed, in a soiled shirt, ragged breeches and tattered +stockings, with shoes down at heel and faded crimson cap. His face +looked congested and sunken about the eyes; he appeared to be asleep, +for stertorous breathing came at intervals from between his parted lips, +whilst every now and then a racking cough seemed to tear at his broad +chest. + +Etienne gave him one look, shuddering with horror, despite himself, at +the aspect of this bloated wretch from whom salvation was to come. The +whole place seemed to him hideous and loathsome in the extreme. What it +all meant he could not understand; all that he knew was that this seemed +like another hideous trap into which he and Lucile had fallen, and that +he must fly from it--fly at all costs, before he betrayed M. le Marquis +still further to these drink-sodden brutes. Another moment, and he +feared that he might faint. The din of a bibulous song rang in his ears, +the reek of alcohol turned him giddy and sick. He had only just enough +strength to turn and totter back into the open. There his senses reeled, +the lights in the houses opposite began to dance wildly before his eyes, +after which he remembered nothing more. + + +IV + +There is nothing now in the whole countryside quite so desolate and +forlorn as the chateau of Montorgueil, with its once magnificent park, +now overgrown with weeds, its encircling walls broken down, its terraces +devastated, and its stately gates rusty and torn. + +Just by the side of what was known in happier times as the stable gate +there stands a hollow tree. It is not inside the park, but just outside, +and shelters the narrow lane, which skirts the park walls, against the +blaze of the afternoon sun. + +Its beneficent shade is a favourite spot for an afternoon siesta, for +there is a bit of green sward under the tree, and all along the side of +the road. But as the shades of evening gather in, the lane is usually +deserted, shunned by the neighbouring peasantry on account of its eerie +loneliness, so different to the former bustle which used to reign around +the park gates when M. le Marquis and his family were still in +residence. Nor does the lane lead anywhere, for it is a mere loop which +gives on the main road at either end. + +Henri de Montorgueil chose a peculiarly dark night in mid-September for +one of his periodical visits to the hollow-tree. It was close on nine +o'clock when he passed stealthily down the lane, keeping close to the +park wall. A soft rain was falling, the first since the prolonged +drought, and though it made the road heavy and slippery in places, it +helped to deaden the sound of the young man's furtive footsteps. The +air, except for the patter of the rain, was absolutely still. Henri de +Montorgueil paused from time to time, with neck craned forward, every +sense on the alert, listening, like any poor, hunted beast, for the +slightest sound which might betray the approach of danger. + +As many a time before, he reached the hollow tree in safety, felt for +and found in the usual place the letter which the unfortunate girl +Lucile had written to him. Then, with it in his hand, he turned to the +stable gate. It had long since ceased to be kept locked and barred. +Pillaged and ransacked by order of the Committee of Public Safety, there +was nothing left inside the park walls worth keeping under lock and key. + +Henri slipped stealthily through the gates and made his way along the +drive. Every stone, every nook and cranny of his former home was +familiar to him, and anon he turned into a shed where in former times +wheelbarrows and garden tools were wont to be kept. Now it was full of +debris, lumber of every sort. A more safe or secluded spot could not be +imagined. Henri crouched in the furthermost corner of the shed. Then +from his belt he detached a small dark lanthorn, opened its shutter, and +with the aid of the tiny, dim light read the contents of the letter. For +a long while after that he remained quite still, as still as a man who +has received a stunning blow on the head and has partly lost +consciousness. The blow was indeed a staggering one. Lucile Clamette, +with the invincible power of her own helplessness, was demanding the +surrender of a weapon which had been a safeguard for the Montorgueils +all this while. The papers which compromised a number of influential +members of the Committee of Public Safety had been the most perfect arms +of defence against persecution and spoliation. + +And now these were to be given up: Oh! there could be no question of +that. Even before consulting with his father, Henri knew that the papers +would have to be given up. They were clever, those revolutionaries. The +thought of holding innocent children as hostages could only have +originated in minds attuned to the villainies of devils. But it was +unthinkable that the children should suffer. + +After a while the young man roused himself from the torpor into which +the suddenness of this awful blow had plunged him. By the light of the +lanthorn he began to write upon a sheet of paper which he had torn from +his pocket-book. + +"MY DEAR LUCILE," he wrote, "As you say, our debt to your father and to +you all never could be adequately repaid. You and the children shall +never suffer whilst we have the power to save you. You will find the +papers in the receptacle you know of inside the chimney of what used to +be my mother's boudoir. You will find the receptacle unlocked. One day +before the term you name I myself will place the papers there for you. +With them, my father and I do give up our lives to save you and the +little ones from the persecution of those fiends. May the good God guard +you all." + +He signed the letter with his initials, H. de M. Then he crept back to +the gate and dropped the message into the hollow of the tree. + +A quarter of an hour later Henri de Montorgueil was wending his way back +to the hiding place which had sheltered him and his father for so long. +Silence and darkness then held undisputed sway once more around the +hollow tree. Even the rain had ceased its gentle pattering. Anon from +far away came the sound of a church bell striking the hour of ten. Then +nothing more. + +A few more minutes of absolute silence, then something dark and furtive +began to move out of the long grass which bordered the +roadside--something that in movement was almost like a snake. It dragged +itself along close to the ground, making no sound as it moved. Soon it +reached the hollow tree, rose to the height of a man and flattened +itself against the tree-trunk. Then it put out a hand, felt for the +hollow receptacle and groped for the missive which Henri de Montorgueil +had dropped in there a while ago. + +The next moment a tiny ray of light gleamed through the darkness like a +star. A small, almost fragile, figure of a man, dressed in the +mud-stained clothes of a country yokel, had turned up the shutter of a +small lanthorn. By its flickering light he deciphered the letter which +Henri de Montorgueil had written to Lucile Clamette. + +"One day before the term you name I myself will place the papers there +for you." + +A sigh of satisfaction, quickly suppressed, came through his thin, +colourless lips, and the light of the lanthorn caught the flash of +triumph in his pale, inscrutable eyes. + +Then the light was extinguished. Impenetrable darkness swallowed up that +slender, mysterious figure again. + + +V + +Six days had gone by since Chauvelin had delivered his cruel +"either--or" to poor little Lucile Clamette; three since he had found +Henri de Montorgueil's reply to the girl's appeal in the hollow of the +tree. Since then he had made a careful investigation of the chateau, and +soon was able to settle it in his own mind as to which room had been +Madame la Marquise's boudoir in the past. It was a small apartment, +having direct access on the first landing of the staircase, and the one +window gave on the rose garden at the back of the house. Inside the +monumental hearth, at an arm's length up the wide chimney, a receptacle +had been contrived in the brickwork, with a small iron door which opened +and closed with a secret spring. Chauvelin, whom his nefarious calling +had rendered proficient in such matters, had soon mastered the workings +of that spring. He could now open and close the iron door at will. + +Up to a late hour on the sixth night of this weary waiting, the +receptacle inside the chimney was still empty. That night Chauvelin had +determined to spend at the chateau. He could not have rested elsewhere. + +Even his colleague Lebel could not know what the possession of those +papers would mean to the discredited agent of the Committee of Public +Safety. With them in his hands, he could demand rehabilitation, and +could purchase immunity from those sneers which had been so galling to +his arrogant soul--sneers which had become more and more marked, more +and more unendurable, and more and more menacing, as he piled up failure +on failure with every encounter with the Scarlet Pimpernel. + +Immunity and rehabilitation! This would mean that he could once more +measure his wits and his power with that audacious enemy who had brought +about his downfall. + +"In the name of Satan, bring us those papers!" Robespierre himself had +cried with unwonted passion, ere he sent him out on this important +mission. "We none of us could stand the scandal of such disclosures. It +would mean absolute ruin for us all." + +And Chauvelin that night, as soon as the shades of evening had drawn in, +took up his stand in the chateau, in the small inner room which was +contiguous to the boudoir. + +Here he sat, beside the open window, for hour upon hour, his every sense +on the alert, listening for the first footfall upon the gravel path +below. Though the hours went by leaden-footed, he was neither excited +nor anxious. The Clamette family was such a precious hostage that the +Montorgueils were bound to comply with Lucile's demand for the papers by +every dictate of honour and of humanity. + +"While we have those people in our power," Chauvelin had reiterated to +himself more than once during the course of his long vigil, "even that +meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel can do nothing to save those cursed +Montorgueils." + +The night was dark and still. Not a breath of air stirred the branches +of the trees or the shrubberies in the park; any footsteps, however +wary, must echo through that perfect and absolute silence. Chauvelin's +keen, pale eyes tried to pierce the gloom in the direction whence in all +probability the aristo would come. Vaguely he wondered if it would be +Henri de Montorgueil or the old Marquis himself who would bring the +papers. + +"Bah! whichever one it is," he muttered, "we can easily get the other, +once those abominable papers are in our hands. And even if both the +aristos escape," he added mentally, "'tis no matter, once we have the +papers." + +Anon, far away a distant church bell struck the midnight hour. The +stillness of the air had become oppressive. A kind of torpor born of +intense fatigue lulled the Terrorist's senses to somnolence. His head +fell forward on his breast.... + + +VI + +Then suddenly a shiver of excitement went right through him. He was +fully awake now, with glowing eyes wide open and the icy calm of perfect +confidence ruling every nerve. The sound of stealthy footsteps had +reached his ear. + +He could see nothing, either outside or in; but his fingers felt for the +pistol which he carried in his belt. The aristo was evidently alone; +only one solitary footstep was approaching the chateau. + +Chauvelin had left the door ajar which gave on the boudoir. The +staircase was on the other side of that fateful room, and the door +leading to that was closed. A few minutes of tense expectancy went by. +Then through the silence there came the sound of furtive foot-steps on +the stairs, the creaking of a loose board and finally the stealthy +opening of the door. + +In all his adventurous career Chauvelin had never felt so calm. His +heart beat quite evenly, his senses were undisturbed by the slightest +tingling of his nerves. The stealthy sounds in the next room brought the +movements of the aristo perfectly clear before his mental vision. The +latter was carrying a small dark lanthorn. As soon as he entered he +flashed its light about the room. Then he deposited the lanthorn on the +floor, close beside the hearth, and started to feel up the chimney for +the hidden receptacle. + +Chauvelin watched him now like a cat watches a mouse, savouring these +few moments of anticipated triumph. He pushed open the door noiselessly +which gave on the boudoir. By the feeble light of the lanthorn on the +ground he could only see the vague outline of the aristo's back, bending +forward to his task; but a thrill went through him as he saw a bundle of +papers lying on the ground close by. + +Everything was ready; the trap was set. Here was a complete victory at +last. It was obviously the young Vicomte de Montorgueil who had come to +do the deed. His head was up the chimney even now. The old Marquis's +back would have looked narrower and more fragile. Chauvelin held his +breath; then he gave a sharp little cough, and took the pistol from his +belt. + +The sound caused the aristo to turn, and the next moment a loud and +merry laugh roused the dormant echoes of the old chateau, whilst a +pleasant, drawly voice said in English: + +"I am demmed if this is not my dear old friend M. Chambertin! Zounds, +sir! who'd have thought of meeting you here?" + +Had a cannon suddenly exploded at Chauvelin's feet he would, I think, +have felt less unnerved. For the space of two heart-beats he stood +there, rooted to the spot, his eyes glued on his arch-enemy, that +execrated Scarlet Pimpernel, whose mocking glance, even through the +intervening gloom, seemed to have deprived him of consciousness. But +that phase of helplessness only lasted for a moment; the next, all the +marvellous possibilities of this encounter flashed through the +Terrorist's keen mind. + +Everything was ready; the trap was set! The unfortunate Clamettes were +still the bait which now would bring a far more noble quarry into the +mesh than even he--Chauvelin--had dared to hope. + +He raised his pistol, ready to fire. But already Sir Percy Blakeney was +on him, and with a swift movement, which the other was too weak to +resist, he wrenched the weapon from his enemy's grasp. + +"Why, how hasty you are, my dear M. Chambertin," he said lightly. +"Surely you are not in such a hurry to put a demmed bullet into me!" + +The position now was one which would have made even a braver man than +Chauvelin quake. He stood alone and unarmed in face of an enemy from +whom he could expect no mercy. But, even so, his first thought was not +of escape. He had not only apprised his own danger, but also the immense +power which he held whilst the Clamettes remained as hostages in the +hands of his colleague Lebel. + +"You have me at a disadvantage, Sir Percy," he said, speaking every whit +as coolly as his foe. "But only momentarily. You can kill me, of course; +but if I do not return from this expedition not only safe and sound, but +with a certain packet of papers in my hands, my colleague Lebel has +instructions to proceed at once against the girl Clamette and the whole +family." + +"I know that well enough," rejoined Sir Percy with a quaint laugh. "I +know what venomous reptiles you and those of your kidney are. You +certainly do owe your life at the present moment to the unfortunate girl +whom you are persecuting with such infamous callousness." + +Chauvelin drew a sigh of relief. The situation was shaping itself more +to his satisfaction already. Through the gloom he could vaguely discern +the Englishman's massive form standing a few paces away, one hand buried +in his breeches pockets, the other still holding the pistol. On the +ground close by the hearth was the small lanthorn, and in its dim light +the packet of papers gleamed white and tempting in the darkness. +Chauvelin's keen eyes had fastened on it, saw the form of receipt for +money with Heriot's signature, which he recognised, on the top. + +He himself had never felt so calm. The only thing he could regret was +that he was alone. Half a dozen men now, and this impudent foe could +indeed be brought to his knees. And this time there would be no risks +taken, no chances for escape. Somehow it seemed to Chauvelin as if +something of the Scarlet Pimpernel's audacity and foresight had gone +from him. As he stood there, looking broad and physically powerful, +there was something wavering and undecided in his attitude, as if the +edge had been taken off his former recklessness and enthusiasm. He had +brought the compromising papers here, had no doubt helped the +Montorgueils to escape; but while Lucile Clamette and her family were +under the eye of Lebel no amount of impudence could force a successful +bargaining. + +It was Chauvelin now who appeared the more keen and the more alert; the +Englishman seemed undecided what to do next, remained silent, toying +with the pistol. He even smothered a yawn. Chauvelin saw his +opportunity. With the quick movement of a cat pouncing upon a mouse he +stooped and seized that packet of papers, would then and there have made +a dash for the door with them, only that, as he seized the packet, the +string which held it together gave way and the papers were scattered all +over the floor. + +Receipts for money? Compromising letters? No! Blank sheets of paper, all +of them--all except the one which had lain tantalisingly on the top: the +one receipt signed by citizen Heriot. Sir Percy laughed lightly: + +"Did you really think, my good friend," he said, "that I would be such a +demmed fool as to place my best weapon so readily to your hand?" + +"Your best weapon, Sir Percy!" retorted Chauvelin, with a sneer. "What +use is it to you while we hold Lucile Clamette?" + +"While I hold Lucile Clamette, you mean, my dear Monsieur Chambertin," +riposted Blakeney with elaborate blandness. + +"You hold Lucile Clamette? Bah! I defy you to drag a whole family like +that out of our clutches. The man a cripple, the children helpless! And +you think they can escape our vigilance when all our men are warned! How +do you think they are going to get across the river, Sir Percy, when +every bridge is closely watched? How will they get across Paris, when at +every gate our men are on the look-out for them?" + +"They can't do it, my dear Monsieur Chambertin," rejoined Sir Percy +blandly, "else I were not here." + +Then, as Chauvelin, fuming, irritated despite himself, as he always was +when he encountered that impudent Englishman, shrugged his shoulders in +token of contempt, Blakeney's powerful grasp suddenly clutched his arm. + +"Let us understand one another, my good M. Chambertin," he said coolly. +"Those unfortunate Clamettes, as you say, are too helpless and too +numerous to smuggle across Paris with any chance of success. Therefore I +look to you to take them under your protection. They are all stowed away +comfortably at this moment in a conveyance which I have provided for +them. That conveyance is waiting at the bridgehead now. We could not +cross without your help; we could not get across Paris without your +august presence and your tricolour scarf of office. So you are coming +with us, my dear M. Chambertin," he continued, and, with force which was +quite irresistible, he began to drag his enemy after him towards the +door. "You are going to sit in that conveyance with the Clamettes, and I +myself will have the honour to drive you. And at every bridgehead you +will show your pleasing countenance and your scarf of office to the +guard and demand free passage for yourself and your family, as a +representative member of the Committee of Public Safety. And then we'll +enter Paris by the Porte d'Ivry and leave it by the Batignolles; and +everywhere your charming presence will lull the guards' suspicions to +rest. I pray you, come! There is no time to consider! At noon to-morrow, +without a moment's grace, my friend Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, who has the +papers in his possession, will dispose of them as he thinks best unless +I myself do claim them from him." + +While he spoke he continued to drag his enemy along with him, with an +assurance and an impudence which were past belief. Chauvelin was trying +to collect his thoughts; a whirl of conflicting plans were running riot +in his mind. The Scarlet Pimpernel in his power! At any point on the +road he could deliver him up to the nearest guard ... then still hold +the Clamettes and demand the papers.... + +"Too late, my dear Monsieur Chambertin!" Sir Percy's mocking voice broke +in, as if divining his thoughts. "You do not know where to find my +friend Ffoulkes, and at noon to-morrow, if I do not arrive to claim +those papers, there will not be a single ragamuffin in Paris who will +not be crying your shame and that of your precious colleagues upon the +housetops." + +Chauvelin's whole nervous system was writhing with the feeling of +impotence. Mechanically, unresisting now, he followed his enemy down the +main staircase of the chateau and out through the wide open gates. He +could not bring himself to believe that he had been so completely +foiled, that this impudent adventurer had him once more in the hollow of +his hand. + +"In the name of Satan, bring us back those papers!" Robespierre had +commanded. And now he--Chauvelin--was left in a maze of doubt; and the +vital alternative was hammering in his brain: "The Scarlet Pimpernel--or +those papers---" Which, in Satan's name, was the more important? Passion +whispered "The Scarlet Pimpernel!" but common sense and the future of +his party, the whole future of the Revolution mayhap, demanded those +compromising papers. And all the while he followed that relentless enemy +through the avenues of the park and down the lonely lane. Overhead the +trees of the forest of Sucy, nodding in a gentle breeze, seemed to mock +his perplexity. + +He had not arrived at a definite decision when the river came in sight, +and when anon a carriage lanthorn threw a shaft of dim light through the +mist-laden air. Now he felt as if he were in a dream. He was thrust +unresisting into a closed chaise, wherein he felt the presence of +several other people--children, an old man who was muttering +ceaselessly. As in a dream he answered questions at the bridge to a +guard whom he knew well. + +"You know me--Armand Chauvelin, of the Committee of Public Safety!" + +As in a dream, he heard the curt words of command: + +"Pass on, in the name of the Republic!" + +And all the while the thought hammered in his brain: "Something must be +done! This is impossible! This cannot be! It is not I--Chauvelin--who am +sitting here, helpless, unresisting. It is not that impudent Scarlet +Pimpernel who is sitting there before me on the box, driving me to utter +humiliation!" + +And yet it was all true. All real. The Clamette children were sitting in +front of him, clinging to Lucile, terrified of him even now. The old man +was beside him--imbecile and not understanding. The boy Etienne was up +on the box next to that audacious adventurer, whose broad back appeared +to Chauvelin like a rock on which all his hopes and dreams must for ever +be shattered. + +The chaise rattled triumphantly through the Batignolles. It was then +broad daylight. A brilliant early autumn day after the rains. The sun, +the keen air, all mocked Chauvelin's helplessness, his humiliation. Long +before noon they passed St. Denis. Here the barouche turned off the main +road, halted at a small wayside house--nothing more than a cottage. +After which everything seemed more dreamlike than ever. All that +Chauvelin remembered of it afterwards was that he was once more alone in +a room with his enemy, who had demanded his signature to a number of +safe-conducts, ere he finally handed over the packet of papers to him. + +"How do I know that they are all here?" he heard himself vaguely +muttering, while his trembling fingers handled that precious packet. + +"That's just it!" his tormentor retorted airily. "You don't know. I +don't know myself," he added, with a light laugh. "And, personally, I +don't see how either of us can possibly ascertain. In the meanwhile, I +must bid you au revoir, my dear M. Chambertin. I am sorry that I cannot +provide you with a conveyance, and you will have to walk a league or +more ere you meet one, I fear me. We, in the meanwhile, will be well on +our way to Dieppe, where my yacht, the Day Dream, lies at anchor, and I +do not think that it will be worth your while to try and overtake us. I +thank you for the safe-conducts. They will make our journey exceedingly +pleasant. Shall I give your regards to M. le Marquis de Montorgueil or +to M. le Vicomte? They are on board the Day Dream, you know. Oh! and I +was forgetting! Lady Blakeney desired to be remembered to you." + +The next moment he was gone. Chauvelin, standing at the window of the +wayside house, saw Sir Percy Blakeney once more mount the box of the +chaise. This time he had Sir Andrew Ffoulkes beside him. The Clamette +family were huddled together--happy and free--inside the vehicle. After +which there was the usual clatter of horses' hoofs, the creaking of +wheels, the rattle of chains. Chauvelin saw and heard nothing of that. +All that he saw at the last was Sir Percy's slender hand, waving him a +last adieu. + +After which he was left alone with his thoughts. The packet of papers +was in his hand. He fingered it, felt its crispness, clutched it with a +fierce gesture, which was followed by a long-drawn-out sigh of intense +bitterness. + +No one would ever know what it had cost him to obtain these papers. No +one would ever know how much he had sacrificed of pride, revenge and +hate in order to save a few shreds of his own party's honour. + + + + +XI + +A BATTLE OF WITS + + +What had happened was this: + +Tournefort, one of the ablest of the many sleuth-hounds employed by the +Committee of Public Safety, was out during that awful storm on the night +of the twenty-fifth. The rain came down as if it had been poured out of +buckets, and Tournefort took shelter under the portico of a tall, +dilapidated-looking house somewhere at the back of St. Lazare. The night +was, of course, pitch dark, and the howling of the wind and beating of +the rain effectually drowned every other sound. + +Tournefort, chilled to the marrow, had at first cowered in the angle of +the door, as far away from the draught as he could. But presently he +spied the glimmer of a tiny light some little way up on his left, and +taking this to come from the concierge's lodge, he went cautiously along +the passage intending to ask for better shelter against the fury of the +elements than the rickety front door afforded. + +Tournefort, you must remember, was always on the best terms with every +concierge in Paris. They were, as it were, his subordinates; without +their help he never could have carried on his unavowable profession +quite so successfully. And they, in their turn, found it to their +advantage to earn the good-will of that army of spies, which the +Revolutionary Government kept in its service, for the tracking down of +all those unfortunates who had not given complete adhesion to their +tyrannical and murderous policy. + +Therefore, in this instance, Tournefort felt no hesitation in claiming +the hospitality of the concierge of the squalid house wherein he found +himself. He went boldly up to the lodge. His hand was already on the +latch, when certain sounds which proceeded from the interior of the +lodge caused him to pause and to bend his ear in order to listen. It was +Tournefort's metier to listen. What had arrested his attention was the +sound of a man's voice, saying in a tone of deep respect: + +"Bien, Madame la Comtesse, we'll do our best." + +No wonder that the servant of the Committee of Public Safety remained at +attention, no longer thought of the storm or felt the cold blast +chilling him to the marrow. Here was a wholly unexpected piece of good +luck. "Madame la Comtesse!" Peste! There were not many such left in +Paris these days. Unfortunately, the tempest of the wind and the rain +made such a din that it was difficult to catch every sound which came +from the interior of the lodge. All that Tournefort caught definitely +were a few fragments of conversation. + +"My good M. Bertin ..." came at one time from a woman's voice. "Truly I +do not know why you should do all this for me." + +And then again: "All I possess in the world now are my diamonds. They +alone stand between my children and utter destitution." + +The man's voice seemed all the time to be saying something that sounded +cheerful and encouraging. But his voice came only as a vague murmur to +the listener's ears. Presently, however, there came a word which set his +pulses tingling. Madame said something about "Gentilly," and directly +afterwards: "You will have to be very careful, my dear M. Bertin. The +chateau, I feel sure, is being watched." + +Tournefort could scarce repress a cry of joy. "Gentilly? Madame la +Comtesse? The chateau?" Why, of course, he held all the necessary +threads already. The ci-devant Comte de Sucy--a pestilential aristo if +ever there was one!--had been sent to the guillotine less than a +fortnight ago. His chateau, situated just outside Gentilly, stood empty, +it having been given out that the widow Sucy and her two children had +escaped to England. Well! she had not gone apparently, for here she was, +in the lodge of the concierge of a mean house in one of the desolate +quarters of Paris, begging some traitor to find her diamonds for her, +which she had obviously left concealed inside the chateau. What a haul +for Tournefort! What commendation from his superiors! The chances of a +speedy promotion were indeed glorious now! He blessed the storm and the +rain which had driven him for shelter to this house, where a poisonous +plot was being hatched to rob the people of valuable property, and to +aid a few more of those abominable aristos in cheating the guillotine of +their traitorous heads. + +He listened for a while longer, in order to get all the information that +he could on the subject of the diamonds, because he knew by experience +that those perfidious aristos, once they were under arrest, would sooner +bite out their tongues than reveal anything that might be of service to +the Government of the people. But he learned little else. Nothing was +revealed of where Madame la Comtesse was in hiding, or how the diamonds +were to be disposed of once they were found. Tournefort would have given +much to have at least one of his colleagues with him. As it was, he +would be forced to act single-handed and on his own initiative. In his +own mind he had already decided that he would wait until Madame la +Comtesse came out of the concierge's lodge, and that he would follow her +and apprehend her somewhere out in the open streets, rather than here +where her friend Bertin might prove to be a stalwart as well as a +desperate man, ready with a pistol, whilst he--Tournefort--was unarmed. +Bertin, who had, it seemed, been entrusted with the task of finding the +diamonds, could then be shadowed and arrested in the very act of +filching property which by decree of the State belonged to the people. + +So he waited patiently for a while. No doubt the aristo would remain +here under shelter until the storm had abated. Soon the sound of voices +died down, and an extraordinary silence descended on this miserable, +abandoned corner of old Paris. The silence became all the more marked +after a while, because the rain ceased its monotonous pattering and the +soughing of the wind was stilled. It was, in fact, this amazing +stillness which set citizen Tournefort thinking. Evidently the aristo +did not intend to come out of the lodge to-night. Well! Tournefort had +not meant to make himself unpleasant inside the house, or to have a +quarrel just yet with the traitor Bertin, whoever he was; but his hand +was forced and he had no option. + +The door of the lodge was locked. He tugged vigorously at the bell again +and again, for at first he got no answer. A few minutes later he heard +the sound of shuffling footsteps upon creaking boards. The door was +opened, and a man in night attire, with bare, thin legs and tattered +carpet slippers on his feet, confronted an exceedingly astonished +servant of the Committee of Public Safety. Indeed, Tournefort thought +that he must have been dreaming, or that he was dreaming now. For the +man who opened the door to him was well known to every agent of the +Committee. He was an ex-soldier who had been crippled years ago by the +loss of one arm, and had held the post of concierge in a house in the +Ruelle du Paradis ever since. His name was Grosjean. He was very old, +and nearly doubled up with rheumatism, had scarcely any hair on his head +or flesh on his bones. At this moment he appeared to be suffering from a +cold in the head, for his eyes were streaming and his narrow, hooked +nose was adorned by a drop of moisture at its tip. In fact, poor old +Grosjean looked more like a dilapidated scarecrow than a dangerous +conspirator. Tournefort literally gasped at sight of him, and Grosjean +uttered a kind of croak, intended, no doubt, for complete surprise. + +"Citizen Tournefort!" he exclaimed. "Name of a dog! What are you doing +here at this hour and in this abominable weather? Come in! Come in!" he +added, and, turning on his heel, he shuffled back into the inner room, +and then returned carrying a lighted lamp, which he set upon the table. +"Amelie left a sup of hot coffee on the hob in the kitchen before she +went to bed. You must have a drop of that." + +He was about to shuffle off again when Tournefort broke in roughly: + +"None of that nonsense, Grosjean! Where are the aristos?" + +"The aristos, citizen?" queried Grosjean, and nothing could have looked +more utterly, more ludicrously bewildered than did the old concierge at +this moment. "What aristos?" + +"Bertin and Madame la Comtesse," retorted Tournefort gruffly. "I heard +them talking." + +"You have been dreaming, citizen Tournefort," the old man said, with a +husky little laugh. "Sit down, and let me get you some coffee--" + +"Don't try and hoodwink me, Grosjean!" Tournefort cried now in a sudden +access of rage. "I tell you that I saw the light. I heard the aristos +talking. There was a man named Bertin, and a woman he called 'Madame la +Comtesse,' and I say that some devilish royalist plot is being hatched +here, and that you, Grosjean, will suffer for it if you try and shield +those aristos." + +"But, citizen Tournefort," replied the concierge meekly, "I assure you +that I have seen no aristos. The door of my bedroom was open, and the +lamp was by my bedside. Amelie, too, has only been in bed a few minutes. +You ask her! There has been no one, I tell you--no one! I should have +seen and heard them--the door was open," he reiterated pathetically. + +"We'll soon see about that!" was Tournefort's curt comment. + +But it was his turn indeed to be utterly bewildered. He searched--none +too gently--the squalid little lodge through and through, turned the +paltry sticks of furniture over, hauled little Amelie, Grosjean's +granddaughter, out of bed, searched under the mattresses, and even poked +his head up the chimney. + +Grosjean watched him wholly unperturbed. These were strange times, and +friend Tournefort had obviously gone a little off his head. The worthy +old concierge calmly went on getting the coffee ready. Only when +presently Tournefort, worn out with anger and futile exertion, threw +himself, with many an oath, into the one armchair, Grosjean remarked +coolly: + +"I tell you what I think it is, citizen. If you were standing just by +the door of the lodge you had the back staircase of the house +immediately behind you. The partition wall is very thin, and there is a +disused door just there also. No doubt the voices came from there. You +see, if there had been any aristos here," he added naively, "they could +not have flown up the chimney, could they?" + +That argument was certainly unanswerable. But Tournefort was out of +temper. He roughly ordered Grosjean to bring the lamp and show him the +back staircase and the disused door. The concierge obeyed without a +murmur. He was not in the least disturbed or frightened by all this +blustering. He was only afraid that getting out of bed had made his cold +worse. But he knew Tournefort of old. A good fellow, but inclined to be +noisy and arrogant since he was in the employ of the Government. +Grosjean took the precaution of putting on his trousers and wrapping an +old shawl round his shoulders. Then he had a final sip of hot coffee; +after which he picked up the lamp and guided Tournefort out of the +lodge. + +The wind had quite gone down by now. The lamp scarcely flickered as +Grosjean held it above his head. + +"Just here, citizen Tournefort," he said, and turned sharply to his +left. But the next sound which he uttered was a loud croak of +astonishment. + +"That door has been out of use ever since I've been here," he muttered. + +"And it certainly was closed when I stood up against it," rejoined +Tournefort, with a savage oath, "or, of course, I should have noticed +it." + +Close to the lodge, at right angles to it, a door stood partially open. +Tournefort went through it, closely followed by Grosjean. He found +himself in a passage which ended in a cul de sac on his right; on the +left was the foot of the stairs. The whole place was pitch dark save for +the feeble light of the lamp. The cul de sac itself reeked of dirt and +fustiness, as if it had not been cleaned or ventilated for years. + +"When did you last notice that this door was closed?" queried +Tournefort, furious with the sense of discomfiture, which he would have +liked to vent on the unfortunate concierge. + +"I have not noticed it for some days, citizen," replied Grosjean meekly. +"I have had a severe cold, and have not been outside my lodge since +Monday last. But we'll ask Amelie!" he added more hopefully. + +Amelie, however, could throw no light upon the subject. She certainly +kept the back stairs cleaned and swept, but it was not part of her +duties to extend her sweeping operations as far as the cul de sac. She +had quite enough to do as it was, with grandfather now practically +helpless. This morning, when she went out to do her shopping, she had +not noticed whether the disused door did or did not look the same as +usual. + +Grosjean was very sorry for his friend Tournefort, who appeared vastly +upset, but still more sorry for himself, for he knew what endless +trouble this would entail upon him. + +Nor was the trouble slow in coming, not only on Grosjean, but on every +lodger inside the house; for before half an hour had gone by Tournefort +had gone and come back, this time with the local commissary of police +and a couple of agents, who had every man, woman and child in that house +out of bed and examined at great length, their identity books +searchingly overhauled, their rooms turned topsy-turvy and their +furniture knocked about. + +It was past midnight before all these perquisitions were completed. No +one dared to complain at these indignities put upon peaceable citizens +on the mere denunciation of an obscure police agent. These were times +when every regulation, every command, had to be accepted without a +murmur. At one o'clock in the morning, Grosjean himself was thankful to +get back to bed, having satisfied the commissary that he was not a +dangerous conspirator. + +But of anyone even remotely approaching the description of the ci-devant +Comtesse de Sucy, or of any man called Bertin, there was not the +faintest trace. + + +II + +But no feeling of discomfort ever lasted very long with citizen +Tournefort. He was a person of vast resource and great buoyancy of +temperament. + +True, he had not apprehended two exceedingly noxious aristos, as he had +hoped to do; but he held the threads of an abominable conspiracy in his +hands, and the question of catching both Bertin and Madame la Comtesse +red-handed was only a question of time. But little time had been lost. +There was always someone to be found at the offices of the Committee of +Public Safety, which were open all night. It was possible that citizen +Chauvelin would be still there, for he often took on the night shift, or +else citizen Gourdon. + +It was Gourdon who greeted his subordinate, somewhat ill-humouredly, for +he was indulging in a little sleep, with his toes turned to the fire, as +the night was so damp and cold. But when he heard Tournefort's story, he +was all eagerness and zeal. + +"It is, of course, too late to do anything now," he said finally, after +he had mastered every detail of the man's adventures in the Ruelle du +Paradis; "but get together half a dozen men upon whom you can rely, and +by six o'clock in the morning, or even five, we'll be on our way to +Gentilly. Citizen Chauvelin was only saying to-day that he strongly +suspected the ci-devant Comtesse de Sucy of having left the bulk of her +valuable jewellery at the chateau, and that she would make some effort +to get possession of it. It would be rather fine, citizen Tournefort," +he added with a chuckle, "if you and I could steal a march on citizen +Chauvelin over this affair, what? He has been extraordinarily arrogant +of late and marvellously in favour, not only with the Committee, but +with citizen Robespierre himself." + +"They say," commented Tournefort, "that he succeeded in getting hold of +some papers which were of great value to the members of the Committee." + +"He never succeeded in getting hold of that meddlesome Englishman whom +they call the Scarlet Pimpernel," was Gourdon's final dry comment. + +Thus was the matter decided on. And the following morning at daybreak, +Gourdon, who was only a subordinate officer on the Committee of Public +Safety, took it upon himself to institute a perquisition in the chateau +of Gentilly, which is situated close to the commune of that name. He was +accompanied by his friend Tournefort and a gang of half a dozen ruffians +recruited from the most disreputable cabarets of Paris. + +The intention had been to steal a march on citizen Chauvelin, who had +been over arrogant of late; but the result did not come up to +expectations. By midday the chateau had been ransacked from attic to +cellar; every kind of valuable property had been destroyed, priceless +works of art irretrievably damaged. But priceless works of art had no +market in Paris these days; and the property of real value--the Sucy +diamonds namely--which had excited the cupidity or the patriotic wrath +of citizens Gourdon and Tournefort could nowhere be found. + +To make the situation more deplorable still, the Committee of Public +Safety had in some unexplainable way got wind of the affair, and the two +worthies had the mortification of seeing citizen Chauvelin presently +appear upon the scene. + +It was then two o'clock in the afternoon. Gourdon, after he had snatched +a hasty dinner at a neighbouring cabaret, had returned to the task of +pulling the chateau of Gentilly about his own ears if need be, with a +view to finding the concealed treasure. + +For the nonce he was standing in the centre of the finely proportioned +hall. The rich ormolu and crystal chandelier lay in a tangled, broken +heap of scraps at his feet, and all around there was a confused medley +of pictures, statuettes, silver ornaments, tapestry and brocade +hangings, all piled up in disorder, smashed, tattered, kicked at now and +again by Gourdon, to the accompaniment of a savage oath. + +The house itself was full of noises; heavy footsteps tramping up and +down the stairs, furniture turned over, curtains torn from their poles, +doors and windows battered in. And through it all the ceaseless +hammering of pick and axe, attacking these stately walls which had +withstood the wars and sieges of centuries. + +Every now and then Tournefort, his face perspiring and crimson with +exertion, would present himself at the door of the hall. Gourdon would +query gruffly: "Well?" + +And the answer was invariably the same: "Nothing!" + +Then Gourdon would swear again and send curt orders to continue the +search, relentlessly, ceaselessly. + +"Leave no stone upon stone," he commanded. "Those diamonds must be +found. We know they are here, and, name of a dog! I mean to have them." + +When Chauvelin arrived at the chateau he made no attempt at first to +interfere with Gourdon's commands. Only on one occasion he remarked +curtly: + +"I suppose, citizen Gourdon, that you can trust your search party?" + +"Absolutely," retorted Gourdon. "A finer patriot than Tournefort does +not exist." + +"Probably," rejoined the other dryly. "But what about the men?" + +"Oh! they are only a set of barefooted, ignorant louts. They do as they +are told, and Tournefort has his eye on them. I dare say they'll +contrive to steal a few things, but they would never dare lay hands on +valuable jewellery. To begin with, they could never dispose of it. +Imagine a va-nu-pieds peddling a diamond tiara!" + +"There are always receivers prepared to take risks." + +"Very few," Gourdon assured him, "since we decreed that trafficking with +aristo property was a crime punishable by death." + +Chauvelin said nothing for the moment. He appeared wrapped in his own +thoughts, listened for a while to the confused hubbub about the house, +then he resumed abruptly: + +"Who are these men whom you are employing, citizen Gourdon?" + +"A well-known gang," replied the other. "I can give you their names." + +"If you please." + +Gourdon searched his pockets for a paper which he found presently and +handed to his colleague. The latter perused it thoughtfully. + +"Where did Tournefort find these men?" he asked. + +"For the most part at the Cabaret de la Liberte--a place of very evil +repute down in the Rue Christine." + +"I know it," rejoined the other. He was still studying the list of names +which Gourdon had given him. "And," he added, "I know most of these men. +As thorough a set of ruffians as we need for some of our work. Merri, +Guidal, Rateau, Desmonds. TIENS!" he exclaimed. "Rateau! Is Rateau here +now?" + +"Why, of course! He was recruited, like the rest of them, for the day. +He won't leave till he has been paid, you may be sure of that. Why do +you ask?" + +"I will tell you presently. But I would wish to speak with citizen +Rateau first." + +Just at this moment Tournefort paid his periodical visit to the hall. +The usual words, "Still nothing," were on his lips, when Gourdon curtly +ordered him to go and fetch the citizen Rateau. + +A minute or two later Tournefort returned with the news that Rateau +could nowhere be found. Chauvelin received the news without any comment; +he only ordered Tournefort, somewhat roughly, back to his work. Then, as +soon as the latter had gone, Gourdon turned upon his colleague. + +"Will you explain--" he began with a show of bluster. + +"With pleasure," replied Chauvelin blandly. "On my way hither, less than +an hour ago, I met your man Rateau, a league or so from here." + +"You met Rateau!" exclaimed Gourdon impatiently. "Impossible! He was +here then, I feel sure. You must have been mistaken." + +"I think not. I have only seen the man once, when I, too, went to +recruit a band of ruffians at the Cabaret de la Liberte, in connection +with some work I wanted doing. I did not employ him then, for he +appeared to me both drink-sodden and nothing but a miserable, +consumptive creature, with a churchyard cough you can hear half a league +away. But I would know him anywhere. Besides which, he stopped and +wished me good morning. Now I come to think of it," added Chauvelin +thoughtfully, "he was carrying what looked like a heavy bundle under his +arm." + +"A heavy bundle!" cried Gourdon, with a forceful oath. "And you did not +stop him!" + +"I had no reason for suspecting him. I did not know until I arrived here +what the whole affair was about, or whom you were employing. All that +the Committee knew for certain was that you and Tournefort and a number +of men had arrived at Gentilly before daybreak, and I was then +instructed to follow you hither to see what mischief you were up to. You +acted in complete secrecy, remember, citizen Gourdon, and without first +ascertaining the wishes of the Committee of Public Safety, whose servant +you are. If the Sucy diamonds are not found, you alone will be held +responsible for their loss to the Government of the People." + +Chauvelin's voice had now assumed a threatening tone, and Gourdon felt +all his audacity and self-assurance fall away from him, leaving him a +prey to nameless terror. + +"We must round up Rateau," he murmured hastily. "He cannot have gone +far." + +"No, he cannot," rejoined Chauvelin dryly. "Though I was not specially +thinking of Rateau or of diamonds when I started to come hither. I did +send a general order forbidding any person on foot or horseback to enter +or leave Paris by any of the southern gates. That order will serve us +well now. Are you riding?" + +"Yes. I left my horse at the tavern just outside Gentilly. I can get to +horse within ten minutes." + +"To horse, then, as quickly as you can. Pay off your men and dismiss +them--all but Tournefort, who had best accompany us. Do not lose a +single moment. I'll be ahead of you and may come up with Rateau before +you overtake me. And if I were you, citizen Gourdon," he concluded, with +ominous emphasis, "I would burn one or two candles to your compeer the +devil. You'll have need of his help if Rateau gives us the slip." + + +III + +The first part of the road from Gentilly to Paris runs through the +valley of the Biere, and is densely wooded on either side. It winds in +and out for the most part, ribbon-like, through thick coppice of +chestnut and birch. Thus it was impossible for Chauvelin to spy his +quarry from afar; nor did he expect to do so this side of the Hopital de +la Sante. Once past that point, he would find the road quite open and +running almost straight, in the midst of arid and only partially +cultivated land. + +He rode at a sharp trot, with his caped coat wrapped tightly round his +shoulders, for it was raining fast. At intervals, when he met an +occasional wayfarer, he would ask questions about a tall man who had a +consumptive cough, and who was carrying a cumbersome burden under his +arm. + +Almost everyone whom he thus asked remembered seeing a personage who +vaguely answered to the description: tall and with a decided stoop--yes, +and carrying a cumbersome-looking bundle under his arm. Chauvelin was +undoubtedly on the track of the thief. + +Just beyond Meuves he was overtaken by Gourdon and Tournefort. Here, +too, the man Rateau's track became more and more certain. At one place +he had stopped and had a glass of wine and a rest, at another he had +asked how close he was to the gates of Paris. + +The road was now quite open and level; the irregular buildings of the +hospital appeared vague in the rain-sodden distance. Twenty minutes +later Tournefort, who was riding ahead of his companions, spied a tall, +stooping figure at the spot where the Chemin de Gentilly forks, and +where stands a group of isolated houses and bits of garden, which belong +to la Sante. Here, before the days when the glorious Revolution swept +aside all such outward signs of superstition, there had stood a Calvary. +It was now used as a signpost. The man stood before it, scanning the +half-obliterated indications. + +At the moment that Tournefort first caught sight of him he appeared +uncertain of his way. Then for a while he watched Tournefort, who was +coming at a sharp trot towards him. Finally, he seemed to make up his +mind very suddenly and, giving a last, quick look round, he walked +rapidly along the upper road. Tournefort drew rein, waited for his +colleagues to come up with him. Then he told them what he had seen. + +"It is Rateau, sure enough," he said. "I saw his face quite distinctly +and heard his abominable cough. He is trying to get into Paris. That +road leads nowhere but to the barrier. There, of course, he will be +stopped, and--" + +The other two had also brought their horses to a halt. The situation had +become tense, and a plan for future action had at once to be decided on. +Already Chauvelin, masterful and sure of himself, had assumed command of +the little party. Now he broke in abruptly on Tournefort's vapid +reflections. + +"We don't want him stopped at the barrier," he said in his usual curt, +authoritative manner. "You, citizen Tournefort," he continued, "will +ride as fast as you can to the gate, making a detour by the lower road. +You will immediately demand to speak with the sergeant who is in +command, and you will give him a detailed description of the man Rateau. +Then you will tell him in my name that, should such a man present +himself at the gate, he must be allowed to enter the city unmolested." + +Gourdon gave a quick cry of protest. + +"Let the man go unmolested? Citizen Chauvelin, think what you are +doing!" + +"I always think of what I am doing," retorted Chauvelin curtly, "and +have no need of outside guidance in the process." Then he turned once +more to Tournefort. "You yourself, citizen," he continued, in sharp, +decisive tones which admitted of no argument, "will dismount as soon as +you are inside the city. You will keep the gate under observation. The +moment you see the man Rateau, you will shadow him, and on no account +lose sight of him. Understand?" + +"You may trust me, citizen Chauvelin," Tournefort replied, elated at the +prospect of work which was so entirely congenial to him. "But will you +tell me--" + +"I will tell you this much, citizen Tournefort," broke in Chauvelin with +some acerbity, "that though we have traced the diamonds and the thief so +far, we have, through your folly last night, lost complete track of the +ci-devant Comtesse de Sucy and of the man Bertin. We want Rateau to show +us where they are." + +"I understand," murmured the other meekly. + +"That's a mercy!" riposted Chauvelin dryly. "Then quickly man. Lose no +time! Try to get a few minutes' advance on Rateau; then slip in to the +guard-room to change into less conspicuous clothes. Citizen Gourdon and +I will continue on the upper road and keep the man in sight in case he +should think of altering his course. In any event, we'll meet you just +inside the barrier. But if, in the meanwhile, you have to get on +Rateau's track before we have arrived on the scene, leave the usual +indications as to the direction which you have taken." + +Having given his orders and satisfied himself that they were fully +understood, he gave a curt command, "En avant," and once more the three +of them rode at a sharp trot down the road towards the city. + + +IV + +Citizen Rateau, if he thought about the matter at all, must indeed have +been vastly surprised at the unwonted amiability or indifference of +sergeant Ribot, who was in command at the gate of Gentilly. Ribot only +threw a very perfunctory glance at the greasy permit which Rateau +presented to him, and when he put the usual query, "What's in that +parcel?" and Rateau gave the reply: "Two heads of cabbage and a bunch of +carrots," Ribot merely poked one of his fingers into the bundle, felt +that a cabbage leaf did effectually lie on the top, and thereupon gave +the formal order: "Pass on, citizen, in the name of the Republic!" +without any hesitation. + +Tournefort, who had watched the brief little incident from behind the +window of a neighbouring cabaret, could not help but chuckle to himself. +Never had he seen game walk more readily into a trap. Rateau, after he +had passed the barrier, appeared undecided which way he would go. He +looked with obvious longing towards the cabaret, behind which the +keenest agent on the staff of the Committee of Public Safety was even +now ensconced. But seemingly a halt within those hospitable doors did +not form part of his programme, and a moment or two later he turned +sharply on his heel and strode rapidly down the Rue de l'Oursine. + +Tournefort allowed him a fair start, and then made ready to follow. + +Just as he was stepping out of the cabaret he spied Chauvelin and +Gourdon coming through the gates. They, too, had apparently made a brief +halt inside the guard-room, where--as at most of the gates--a store of +various disguises was always kept ready for the use of the numerous +sleuth-hounds employed by the Committee of Public Safety. Here the two +men had exchanged their official garments for suits of sombre cloth, +which gave them the appearance of a couple of humble bourgeois going +quietly about their business. Tournefort had donned an old blouse, +tattered stockings, and shoes down at heel. With his hands buried in his +breeches' pockets, he, too, turned into the long narrow Rue de +l'Oursine, which, after a sharp curve, abuts on the Rue Mouffetard. + +Rateau was walking rapidly, taking big strides with his long legs. +Tournefort, now sauntering in the gutter in the middle of the road, now +darting in and out of open doorways, kept his quarry well in sight. +Chauvelin and Gourdon lagged some little way behind. It was still +raining, but not heavily--a thin drizzle, which penetrated almost to the +marrow. Not many passers-by haunted this forlorn quarter of old Paris. +To right and left tall houses almost obscured the last, quickly-fading +light of the grey September day. + +At the bottom of the Rue Mouffetard, Rateau came once more to a halt. A +network of narrow streets radiated from this centre. He looked all round +him and also behind. It was difficult to know whether he had a sudden +suspicion that he was being followed; certain it is that, after a very +brief moment of hesitation, he plunged suddenly into the narrow Rue +Contrescarpe and disappeared from view. + +Tournefort was after him in a trice. When he reached the corner of the +street he saw Rateau, at the further end of it, take a sudden sharp turn +to the right. But not before he had very obviously spied his pursuer, +for at that moment his entire demeanour changed. An air of furtive +anxiety was expressed in his whole attitude. Even at that distance +Tournefort could see him clutching his bulky parcel close to his chest. + +After that the pursuit became closer and hotter. Rateau was in and out +of that tight network of streets which cluster around the Place de +Fourci, intent, apparently, on throwing his pursuers off the scent, for +after a while he was running round and round in a circle. Now up the Rue +des Poules, then to the right and to the right again; back in the Place +de Fourci. Then straight across it once more to the Rue Contrescarpe, +where he presently disappeared so completely from view that Tournefort +thought that the earth must have swallowed him up. + +Tournefort was a man capable of great physical exertion. His calling +often made heavy demands upon his powers of endurance; but never before +had he grappled with so strenuous a task. Puffing and panting, now +running at top speed, anon brought to a halt by the doubling-up tactics +of his quarry, his great difficulty was the fact that citizen Chauvelin +did not wish the man Rateau to be apprehended; did not wish him to know +that he was being pursued. And Tournefort had need of all his wits to +keep well under the shadow of any projecting wall or under cover of open +doorways which were conveniently in the way, and all the while not to +lose sight of that consumptive giant, who seemed to be playing some +intricate game which well-nigh exhausted the strength of citizen +Tournefort. + +What he could not make out was what had happened to Chauvelin and to +Gourdon. They had been less than three hundred metres behind him when +first this wild chase in and out of the Rue Contrescarpe had begun. Now, +when their presence was most needed, they seemed to have lost track both +of him--Tournefort--and of the very elusive quarry. To make matters more +complicated, the shades of evening were drawing in very fast, and these +narrow streets of the Faubourg were very sparsely lighted. + +Just at this moment Tournefort had once more caught sight of Rateau, +striding leisurely this time up the street. The worthy agent quickly +took refuge under a doorway and was mopping his streaming forehead, glad +of this brief respite in the mad chase, when that awful churchyard cough +suddenly sounded so close to him that he gave a great jump and well-nigh +betrayed his presence then and there. He had only just time to withdraw +further still into the angle of the doorway, when Rateau passed by. + +Tournefort peeped out of his hiding-place, and for the space of a dozen +heart beats or so, remained there quite still, watching that broad back +and those long limbs slowly moving through the gathering gloom. The next +instant he perceived Chauvelin standing at the end of the street. + +Rateau saw him too--came face to face with him, in fact, and must have +known who he was for, without an instant's hesitation and just like a +hunted creature at bay, he turned sharply on his heel and then ran back +down the street as hard as he could tear. He passed close to within half +a metre of Tournefort, and as he flew past he hit out with his left fist +so vigorously that the worthy agent of the Committee of Public Safety, +caught on the nose by the blow, staggered and measured his length upon +the flagged floor below. + +The next moment Chauvelin had come by. Tournefort, struggling to his +feet, called to him, panting: + +"Did you see him? Which way did he go?" + +"Up the Rue Bordet. After him, citizen!" replied Chauvelin grimly, +between his teeth. + +Together the two men continued the chase, guided through the intricate +mazes of the streets by their fleeing quarry. They had Rateau well in +sight, and the latter could no longer continue his former tactics with +success now that two experienced sleuth-hounds were on his track. + +At a given moment he was caught between the two of them. Tournefort was +advancing cautiously up the Rue Bordet; Chauvelin, equally stealthily, +was coming down the same street, and Rateau, once more walking quite +leisurely, was at equal distance between the two. + + +V + +There are no side turnings out of the Rue Bordet, the total length of +which is less than fifty metres; so Tournefort, feeling more at his +ease, ensconced himself at one end of the street, behind a doorway, +whilst Chauvelin did the same at the other. Rateau, standing in the +gutter, appeared once more in a state of hesitation. Immediately in +front of him the door of a small cabaret stood invitingly open; its +signboard, "Le Bon Copain," promised rest and refreshment. He peered up +and down the road, satisfied himself presumably that, for the moment, +his pursuers were out of sight, hugged his parcel to his chest, and then +suddenly made a dart for the cabaret and disappeared within its doors. + +Nothing could have been better. The quarry, for the moment, was safe, +and if the sleuth-hounds could not get refreshment, they could at least +get a rest. Tournefort and Chauvelin crept out of their hiding-places. +They met in the middle of the road, at the spot where Rateau had stood a +while ago. It was then growing dark and the street was innocent of +lanterns, but the lights inside the cabaret gave a full view of the +interior. The lower half of the wide shop-window was curtained off, but +above the curtain the heads of the customers of "Le Bon Copain," and the +general comings and goings, could very clearly be seen. + +Tournefort, never at a loss, had already climbed upon a low projection +in the wall of one of the houses opposite. From this point of vantage he +could more easily observe what went on inside the cabaret, and in short, +jerky sentences he gave a description of what he saw to his chief. + +"Rateau is sitting down ... he has his back to the window ... he has put +his bundle down close beside him on the bench ... he can't speak for a +minute, for he is coughing and spluttering like an old walrus.... A +wench is bringing him a bottle of wine and a hunk of bread and +cheese.... He has started talking ... is talking volubly ... the people +are laughing ... some are applauding.... And here comes Jean Victor, the +landlord ... you know him, citizen ... a big, hulking fellow, and as +good a patriot as I ever wish to see.... He, too, is laughing and +talking to Rateau, who is doubled up with another fit of coughing--" + +Chauvelin uttered an exclamation of impatience: + +"Enough of this, citizen Tournefort. Keep your eye on the man and hold +your tongue. I am spent with fatigue." + +"No wonder," murmured Tournefort. Then he added insinuatingly: "Why not +let me go in there and apprehend Rateau now? We should have the diamonds +and--" + +"And lose the ci-devant Comtesse de Sucy and the man Bertin," retorted +Chauvelin with sudden fierceness. "Bertin, who can be none other than +that cursed Englishman, the--" + +He checked himself, seeing Tournefort was gazing down on him, with awe +and bewilderment expressed in his lean, hatchet face. + +"You are losing sight of Rateau, citizen," Chauvelin continued calmly. +"What is he doing now?" + +But Tournefort felt that this calmness was only on the surface; +something strange had stirred the depths of his chief's keen, masterful +mind. He would have liked to ask a question or two, but knew from +experience that it was neither wise nor profitable to try and probe +citizen Chauvelin's thoughts. So after a moment or two he turned back +obediently to his task. + +"I can't see Rateau for the moment," he said, "but there is much talking +and merriment in there. Ah! there he is, I think. Yes, I see him!... He +is behind the counter, talking to Jean Victor ... and he has just thrown +some money down upon the counter.... gold too! name of a dog...." + +Then suddenly, without any warning, Tournefort jumped down from his post +of observation. Chauvelin uttered a brief: + +"What the----- are you doing, citizen?" + +"Rateau is going," replied Tournefort excitedly. "He drank a mug of wine +at a draught and has picked up his bundle, ready to go." + +Once more cowering in the dark angle of a doorway, the two men waited, +their nerves on edge, for the reappearance of their quarry. + +"I wish citizen Gourdon were here," whispered Tournefort. "In the +darkness it is better to be three than two." + +"I sent him back to the Station in the Rue Mouffetard," was Chauvelin's +curt retort; "there to give notice that I might require a few armed men +presently. But he should be somewhere about here by now, looking for us. +Anyway, I have my whistle, and if--" + +He said no more, for at that moment the door of the cabaret was opened +from within and Rateau stepped out into the street, to the accompaniment +of loud laughter and clapping of hands which came from the customers of +the "Bon Copain." + +This time he appeared neither in a hurry nor yet anxious. He did not +pause in order to glance to right or left, but started to walk quite +leisurely up the street. The two sleuth-hounds quietly followed him. +Through the darkness they could only vaguely see his silhouette, with +the great bundle under his arm. Whatever may have been Rateau's fears of +being shadowed awhile ago, he certainly seemed free of them now. He +sauntered along, whistling a tune, down the Montagne Ste. Genevieve to +the Place Maubert, and thence straight towards the river. + +Having reached the bank, he turned off to his left, sauntered past the +Ecole de Medecine and went across the Petit Pont, then through the New +Market, along the Quai des Orfevres. Here he made a halt, and for awhile +looked over the embankment at the river and then round about him, as if +in search of something. But presently he appeared to make up his mind, +and continued his leisurely walk as far as the Pont Neuf, where he +turned sharply off to his right, still whistling, Tournefort and +Chauvelin hard upon his heels. + +"That whistling is getting on my nerves," muttered Tournefort irritably; +"and I haven't heard the ruffian's churchyard cough since he walked out +of the 'Bon Copain.'" + +Strangely enough, it was this remark of Tournefort's which gave +Chauvelin the first inkling of something strange and, to him, positively +awesome. Tournefort, who walked close beside him, heard him suddenly +mutter a fierce exclamation. + +"Name of a dog!" + +"What is it, citizen?" queried Tournefort, awed by this sudden outburst +on the part of a man whose icy calmness had become proverbial throughout +the Committee. + +"Sound the alarm, citizen!" cried Chauvelin in response. "Or, by Satan, +he'll escape us again!" + +"But--" stammered Tournefort in utter bewilderment, while, with fingers +that trembled somewhat, he fumbled for his whistle. + +"We shall want all the help we can," retorted Chauvelin roughly. "For, +unless I am much mistaken, there's more noble quarry here than even I +could dare to hope!" + +Rateau in the meanwhile had quietly lolled up to the parapet on the +right-hand side of the bridge, and Tournefort, who was watching him with +intense keenness, still marvelled why citizen Chauvelin had suddenly +become so strangely excited. Rateau was merely lolling against the +parapet, like a man who has not a care in the world. He had placed his +bundle on the stone ledge beside him. Here he waited a moment or two, +until one of the small craft upon the river loomed out of the darkness +immediately below the bridge. Then he picked up the bundle and threw it +straight into the boat. At that same moment Tournefort had the whistle +to his lips. A shrill, sharp sound rang out through the gloom. + +"The boat, citizen Tournefort, the boat!" cried Chauvelin. "There are +plenty of us here to deal with the man." + +Immediately, from the quays, the streets, the bridges, dark figures +emerged out of the darkness and hurried to the spot. Some reached the +bridgehead even as Rateau made a dart forward, and two men were upon him +before he succeeded in running very far. Others had scrambled down the +embankment and were shouting to some unseen boatman to "halt, in the +name of the people!" + +But Rateau gave in without a struggle. He appeared more dazed than +frightened, and quietly allowed the agents of the Committee to lead him +back to the bridge, where Chauvelin had paused, waiting for him. + + +VI + +A minute or two later Tournefort was once more beside his chief. He was +carrying the precious bundle, which, he explained, the boatman had given +up without question. + +"The man knew nothing about it," the agent said. "No one, he says, could +have been more surprised than he was when this bundle was suddenly flung +at him over the parapet of the bridge." + +Just then the small group, composed of two or three agents of the +Committee, holding their prisoner by the arms, came into view. One man +was walking ahead and was the first to approach Chauvelin. He had a +small screw of paper in his hand, which he gave to his chief. + +"Found inside the lining of the prisoner's hat, citizen," he reported +curtly, and opened the shutter of a small, dark lantern which he wore at +his belt. + +Chauvelin took the paper from his subordinate. A weird, unexplainable +foreknowledge of what was to come caused his hand to shake and beads of +perspiration to moisten his forehead. He looked up and saw the prisoner +standing before him. Crushing the paper in his hand he snatched the +lantern from the agent's belt and flashed it in the face of the quarry +who, at the last, had been so easily captured. + +Immediately a hoarse cry of disappointment and of rage escaped his +throat. + +"Who is this man?" he cried. + +One of the agents gave reply: + +"It is old Victor, the landlord of the 'Bon Copain.' He is just a fool, +who has been playing a practical joke." + +Tournefort, too, at sight of the prisoner had uttered a cry of dismay +and of astonishment. + +"Victor!" he exclaimed. "Name of a dog, citizen, what are you doing +here?" + +But Chauvelin had gripped the man by the arm so fiercely that the latter +swore with the pain. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he queried roughly. + +"Only a bet, citizen," retorted Victor reproachfully. "No reason to fall +on an honest patriot for a bet, just as if he were a mad dog." + +"A joke? A bet?" murmured Chauvelin hoarsely, for his throat now felt +hot and parched. "What do you mean? Who are you, man? Speak, or I'll--" + +"My name is Jean Victor," replied the other. "I am the landlord of the +'Bon Copain.' An hour ago a man came into my cabaret. He was a queer, +consumptive creature, with a churchyard cough that made you shiver. Some +of my customers knew him by sight, told me that the man's name was +Rateau, and that he was an habitue of the 'Liberte,' in the Rue +Christine. Well; he soon fell into conversation, first with me, then +with some of my customers--talked all sorts of silly nonsense, made +absurd bets with everybody. Some of these he won, and others he lost; +but I must say that when he lost he always paid up most liberally. Then +we all got excited, and soon bets flew all over the place. I don't +rightly know how it happened at the last, but all at once he bet me that +I would not dare to walk out then and there in the dark, as far as the +Pont Neuf, wearing his blouse and hat and carrying a bundle the same as +his under my arm. I not dare?... I, Jean Victor, who was a fine fighter +in my day! I bet him a gold piece that I would and he said that he would +make it five if I came back without my bundle, having thrown it over the +parapet into any passing boat. Well, citizen!" continued Jean Victor +with a laugh, "I ask you, what would you have done? Five gold pieces +means a fortune these hard times, and I tell you the man was quite +honest and always paid liberally when he lost. He slipped behind the +counter and took off his blouse and hat, which I put on. Then we made up +a bundle with some cabbage heads and a few carrots, and out I came. I +didn't think there could be anything wrong in the whole affair--just the +tomfoolery of a man who has got the betting mania and in whose pocket +money is just burning a hole. And I have won my bet," concluded Jean +Victor, still unabashed, "and I want to go back and get my money. If you +don't believe me, come with me to my CABARET. You will find the citizen +Rateau there, for sure; and I know that I shall find my five gold +pieces." + +Chauvelin had listened to the man as he would to some weird dream-story, +wherein ghouls and devils had played a part. Tournefort, who was +watching him, was awed by the look of fierce rage and grim hopelessness +which shone from his chief's pale eyes. The other agents laughed. They +were highly amused at the tale, but they would not let the prisoner go. + +"If Jean Victor's story is true, citizen," their sergeant said, speaking +to Chauvelin, "there will be witnesses to it over at 'Le Bon Copain.' +Shall we take the prisoner straightway there and await further orders?" + +Chauvelin gave a curt acquiescence, nodding his head like some +insentient wooden automaton. The screw of paper was still in his hand; +it seemed to sear his palm. Tournefort even now broke into a grim laugh. +He had just undone the bundle which Jean Victor had thrown over the +parapet of the bridge. It contained two heads of cabbage and a bunch of +carrots. Then he ordered the agents to march on with their prisoner, and +they, laughing and joking with Jean Victor, gave a quick turn, and soon +their heavy footsteps were echoing down the flagstones of the bridge. + + * * * * * + +Chauvelin waited, motionless and silent, the dark lantern still held in +his shaking hand, until he was quite sure that he was alone. Then only +did he unfold the screw of paper. + +It contained a few lines scribbled in pencil--just that foolish rhyme +which to his fevered nerves was like a strong irritant, a poison which +gave him an unendurable sensation of humiliation and impotence: + + "We seek him here, we seek him there! + Chauvelin seeks him everywhere! + Is he in heaven? Is he in hell? + That demmed, elusive Pimpernel!" + +He crushed the paper in his hand and, with a loud groan, of misery, fled +over the bridge like one possessed. + + +VII + +Madame la Comtesse de Sucy never went to England. She was one of those +French women who would sooner endure misery in their own beloved country +than comfort anywhere else. She outlived the horrors of the Revolution +and speaks in her memoirs of the man Bertin. She never knew who he was +nor whence he came. All that she knew was that he came to her like some +mysterious agent of God, bringing help, counsel, a semblance of +happiness, at the moment when she was at the end of all her resources +and saw grim starvation staring her and her children in the face. He +appointed all sorts of strange places in out-of-the-way Paris where she +was wont to meet him, and one night she confided to him the history of +her diamonds, and hardly dared to trust his promise that he would get +them for her. + +Less than twenty-four hours later he brought them to her, at the poor +lodgings in the Rue Blanche which she occupied with her children under +an assumed name. That same night she begged him to dispose of them. This +also he did, bringing her the money the next day. + +She never saw him again after that. + +But citizen Tournefort never quite got over his disappointment of that +night. Had he dared, he would have blamed citizen Chauvelin for the +discomfiture. It would have been better to have apprehended the man +Rateau while there was a chance of doing so with success. + +As it was, the impudent ruffian slipped clean away, and was never heard +of again either at the "Bon Copain" or at the "Liberte." The customers +at the cabaret certainly corroborated the story of Jean Victor. The man +Rateau, they said, had been honest to the last. When time went on and +Jean Victor did not return, he said that he could no longer wait, had +work to do for the Government over the other side of the water and was +afraid he would get punished if he dallied. But, before leaving, he laid +the five gold pieces on the table. Every one wondered that so humble a +workman had so much money in his pocket, and was withal so lavish with +it. But these were not the times when one inquired too closely into the +presence of money in the pocket of a good patriot. + +And citizen Rateau was a good patriot, for sure. + +And a good fellow to boot! + +They all drank his health in Jean Victor's sour wine; then each went his +way. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, by +Baroness Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET *** + +***** This file should be named 5805.txt or 5805.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/0/5805/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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