"Will you hear me first?" she interrupted. "This is how the
matter stands. When the agent of the French Government stole your
papers that night in Dover, he found
amongst them certain plans, which
you or your leader meant to carry out for the
rescue of the Comte de
Tournay and others. The Scarlet Pimpernel--Percy, my husband--has
gone on this
errand himself to-day. Chauvelin knows that the Scarlet
Pimpernel and Percy Blakeney are one and the same person. He will
follow him to Calais, and there will lay hands on him. You know as
well as I do the fate that awaits him at the hands of the
Revolutionary Government of France. No
interference from
England--from King George himself--would save him. Robespierre and
his gang would see to it that the
interference came too late. But not
only that, the much-trusted leader will also have been
unconsciously
the means of revealing the hiding-place of the Comte de Tournay and of
all those who, even now, are placing their hopes in him."
She had
spoken quietly, dis
passionately, and with firm,
unbending
resolution. Her purpose was to make that young man trust
and help her, for she could do nothing without him.
"I do not understand," he
repeated,
trying to gain time, to
think what was best to be done.
"Aye! but I think you do, Sir Andrew. You must know that I
am
speaking the truth. Look these facts straight in the face. Percy
has sailed for Calais, I
presume for some
lonely part of the coast,
and Chauvelin is on his track. HE has posted for Dover, and will
cross the Channel probably to-night. What do you think will happen?"
The young man was silent.
"Percy will arrive at his
destination:
unconscious of being
followed he will seek out de Tournay and the others--among these is
Armand St. Just my brother--he will seek them out, one after another,
probably, not
knowing that the sharpest eyes in the world are watching
his every
movement. When he has thus
unconsciously
betrayed those who
blindly trust in him, when nothing can be gained from him, and he is
ready to come back to England, with those whom he has gone so bravely
to save, the doors of the trap will close upon him, and he will be
sent to end his noble life upon the guillotine."
Still Sir Andrew was silent.
"You do not trust me," she said
passionately. "Oh God!
cannot you see that I am in
deadlyearnest? Man, man," she added,
while, with her tiny hands she seized the young man suddenly by the
shoulders, forcing him to look straight at her, "tell me, do I look
like that vilest thing on earth--a woman who would
betray her own
husband?"
"God
forbid, Lady Blakeney," said the young man at last,
"that I should
attribute such evil motives to you, but. . ."
"But what?. . .tell me. . .Quick, man!. . .the very seconds are precious!"
"Will you tell me," he asked
resolutely, and looking
searchingly into her blue eyes, "whose hand helped to guide M.
Chauvelin to the knowledge which you say he possesses?"
"Mine," she said quietly, "I own it--I will not lie to you,
for I wish you to trust me
absolutely. But I had no idea--how COULD
I have?--of the
identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel. . .and my brother's
safety was to be my prize if I succeeded."
"In helping Chauvelin to track the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
She nodded.
"It is no use telling you how he forced my hand. Armand is
more than a brother to me, and. . .and. . .how COULD I guess?. . .
But we waste time, Sir Andrew. . .every second is precious. . .in the
name of God!. . .my husband is in peril. . .your friend!--your
comrade!--Help me to save him."
Sir Andrew felt his position to be a very
awkward one. The
oath he had taken before his leader and comrade was one of obedience
and
secrecy; and yet the beautiful woman, who was asking him to trust
her, was
undoubtedly in
earnest; his friend and leader was equally
undoubtedly in
imminent danger and. . .
"Lady Blakeney," he said at last, "God knows you have
perplexed me, so that I do not know which way my duty lies. Tell me
what you wish me to do. There are nineteen of us ready to lay down
our lives for the Scarlet Pimpernel if he is in danger."
"There is no need for lives just now, my friend," she said
drily; "my wits and four swift horses will serve the necessary
purpose. But I must know where to find him. See," she added, while
her eyes filled with tears, "I have humbled myself before you, I have
owned my fault to you; shall I also
confess my weakness?--My husband
and I have been estranged, because he did not trust me, and because I
was too blind to understand. You must
confess that the
bandage which
he put over my eyes was a very thick one. Is it small wonder that I
did not see through it? But last night, after I led him unwittingly
into such
deadly peril, it suddenly fell from my eyes. If you will
not help me, Sir Andrew, I would still
strive to save my husband. I
would still exert every
faculty I possess for his sake; but I might be
powerless, for I might arrive too late, and nothing would be left for
you but
lifelongremorse, and. . .and. . .for me, a broken heart."
"But, Lady Blakeney," said the young man, touched by the
gentle
earnestness of this
exquisitely beautiful woman, "do you know
that what you propose doing is man's work?--you cannot possibly
journey to Calais alone. You would be
running the greatest possible
risks to yourself, and your chances of
finding your husband now--where
I to direct you ever so carefully--are
infinitely remote.
"Oh, I hope there are risks!" she murmured
softly, "I hope
there are dangers, too!--I have so much to atone for. But I fear you
are
mistaken. Chauvelin's eyes are fixed upon you all, he will scarce
notice me. Quick, Sir Andrew!--the coach is ready, and there is not a
moment to be lost. . . . I MUST get to him! I MUST!" she
repeated with almost
savageenergy, "to warn him that that man is on
his track. . . . Can't you see--can't you see, that I MUST get to
him. . .even. . .even if it be too late to save him. . .at least. . .
to be by his side. . .at the least."
"Faith, Madame, you must command me. Gladly would I or any of
my comrades lay down our lives for our husband. If you WILL go
yourself. . ."
"Nay, friend, do you not see that I would go mad if I let you go
without me." She stretched out her hand to him. "You WILL trust me?"
"I await your orders," he said simply.
"Listen, then. My coach is ready to take me to Dover. Do you
follow me, as
swiftly as horses will take you. We meet at nightfall
at `The Fisherman's Rest.' Chauvelin would avoid it, as he is known
there, and I think it would be the safest. I will
gladly accept your
escort to Calais. . .as you say, I might miss Sir Percy were you to
direct me ever so carefully. We'll
charter a
schooner at Dover and
cross over during the night. Disguised, if you will agree to it, as
my lacquey, you will, I think, escape detection."
"I am entirely at your service, Madame," rejoined the young
man
earnestly. "I trust to God that you will sight the DAY DREAM
before we reach Calais. With Chauvelin at his heels, every step the
Scarlet Pimpernel takes on French soil is
fraught with danger."
"God grant it, Sir Andrew. But now,
farewell. We meet
to-night at Dover! It will be a race between Chauvelin and me across
the Channel to-night--and the prize--the life of the Scarlet
Pimpernel."
He kissed her hand, and then escorted her to her chair. A
quarter of an hour later she was back at the "Crown" inn, where her
coach and horses were ready and
waiting for her. The next moment they
thundered along the London streets, and then straight on to the Dover
road at maddening speed.
She had no time for
despair now. She was up and doing and had
no
leisure to think. With Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as her
companion and
ally, hope had once again revived in her heart.
God would be
merciful. He would not allow so
appalling a
crime to be committed, as the death of a brave man, through the hand
of a woman who loved him, and worshipped him, and who would
gladlyhave died for his sake.
Marguerite's thoughts flew back to him, the
mysterious hero,