The Scarlet Pimpernel

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  "Faith, Madame!" said Sir Andrew, seeing that Marguerite seemed desirousto call her surly host back again, "I think we'd better leave him alone.We shall not get anything more out of him, and we might arouse hissuspicions. One never knows what spies may be lurking around theseGod-forsaken places."

  "What care I?" she replied lightly, "now I know that my husband is safe,and that I shall see him almost directly!"

  "Hush!" he said in genuine alarm, for she had talked quite loudly, inthe fulness of her glee, "the very walls have ears in France, thesedays."

  He rose quickly from the table, and walked round the bare, squalidroom, listening attentively at the door, through which Brogard has justdisappeared, and whence only muttered oaths and shuffling footstepscould be heard. He also ran up the rickety steps that led to the attic,to assure himself that there were no spies of Chauvelin's about theplace.

  "Are we alone, Monsieur, my lacquey?" said Marguerite, gaily, as theyoung man once more sat down beside her. "May we talk?"

  "As cautiously as possible!" he entreated.

  "Faith, man! but you wear a glum face! As for me, I could dance withjoy! Surely there is no longer any cause for fear. Our boat is on thebeach, the FOAM CREST not two miles out at sea, and my husband will behere, under this very roof, within the next half hour perhaps. Sure!there is naught to hinder us. Chauvelin and his gang have not yetarrived."

  "Nay, madam! that I fear we do not know."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He was at Dover at the same time that we were."

  "Held up by the same storm, which kept us from starting."

  "Exactly. But--I did not speak of it before, for I feared to alarmyou--I saw him on the beach not five minutes before we embarked.At least, I swore to myself at the time that it was himself; he wasdisguised as a CURE, so that Satan, his own guardian, would scarce haveknown him. But I heard him then, bargaining for a vessel to take himswiftly to Calais; and he must have set sail less than an hour after wedid."

  Marguerite's face had quickly lost its look of joy. The terrible dangerin which Percy stood, now that he was actually on French soil, becamesuddenly and horribly clear to her. Chauvelin was close upon his heels;here in Calais, the astute diplomatist was all-powerful; a word from himand Percy could be tracked and arrested and . . .

  Every drop of blood seemed to freeze in her veins; not even during themoments of her wildest anguish in England had she so completely realisedthe imminence of the peril in which her husband stood. Chauvelin hadsworn to bring the Scarlet Pimpernel to the guillotine, and now thedaring plotter, whose anonymity hitherto had been his safeguard, stoodrevealed through her own hand, to his most bitter, most relentlessenemy.

  Chauvelin--when he waylaid Lord Tony and Sir Andrew Ffoulkes in thecoffee-room of "The Fisherman's Rest"--had obtained possession of allthe plans of this latest expedition. Armand St. Just, the Comte deTournay and other fugitive royalists were to have met the ScarletPimpernel--or rather, as it had been originally arranged, two of hisemissaries--on this day, the 2nd of October, at a place evidently knownto the league, and vaguely alluded to as the "Pere Blanchard's hut."

  Armand, whose connection with the Scarlet Pimpernel and disavowal ofthe brutal policy of the Reign of Terror was still unknown to hiscountryman, had left England a little more than a week ago, carryingwith him the necessary instructions, which would enable him to meet theother fugitives and to convey them to this place of safety.

  This much Marguerite had fully understood from the first, and Sir AndrewFfoulkes had confirmed her surmises. She knew, too, that when Sir Percyrealized that his own plans and his directions to his lieutenants hadbeen stolen by Chauvelin, it was too late to communicate with Armand, orto send fresh instructions to the fugitives.

  They would, of necessity, be at the appointed time and place, notknowing how grave was the danger which now awaited their brave rescuer.

  Blakeney, who as usual had planned and organized the whole expedition,would not allow any of his younger comrades to run the risk of almostcertain capture. Hence his hurried note to them at Lord Grenville'sball--"Start myself to-morrow--alone."

  And now with his identity known to his most bitter enemy, his every stepwould be dogged, the moment he set foot in France. He would be trackedby Chauvelin's emissaries, followed until he reached that mysterious hutwhere the fugitives were waiting for him, and there the trap would beclosed on him and on them.

  There was but one hour--the hour's start which Marguerite and Sir Andrewhad of their enemy--in which to warn Percy of the imminence of hisdanger, and to persuade him to give up the foolhardy expedition, whichcould only end in his own death.

  But there WAS that one hour.

  "Chauvelin knows of this inn, from the papers he stole," said SirAndrew, earnestly, "and on landing will make straight for it."

  "He has not landed yet," she said, "we have an hour's start on him, andPercy will be here directly. We shall be mid-Channel ere Chauvelin hasrealised that we have slipped through his fingers."

  She spoke excitedly and eagerly, wishing to infuse into her young friendsome of that buoyant hope which still clung to her heart. But he shookhis head sadly.

  "Silent again, Sir Andrew?" she said with some impatience. "Why do youshake your head and look so glum?"

  "Faith, Madame," he replied, "'tis only because in making yourrose-coloured plans, you are forgetting the most important factor."

  "What in the world do you mean?--I am forgetting nothing. . . . Whatfactor do you mean?" she added with more impatience.

  "It stands six foot odd high," replied Sir Andrew, quietly, "and hathname Percy Blakeney."

  "I don't understand," she murmured.

  "Do you think that Blakeney would leave Calais without havingaccomplished what he set out to do?"

  "You mean . . . ?"

  "There's the old Comte de Tournay . . ."

  "The Comte . . . ?" she murmured.

  "And St. Just . . . and others . . ."

  "My brother!" she said with a heart-broken sob of anguish. "Heaven helpme, but I fear I had forgotten."

  "Fugitives as they are, these men at this moment await with perfectconfidence and unshaken faith the arrival of the Scarlet Pimpernel, whohas pledged his honour to take them safely across the Channel."

  Indeed, she had forgotten! With the sublime selfishness of a woman wholoves with her whole heart, she had in the last twenty-four hours hadno thought save for him. His precious, noble life, his danger--he, theloved one, the brave hero, he alone dwelt in her mind.

  "My brother!" she murmured, as one by one the heavy tears gatheredin her eyes, as memory came back to her of Armand, the companion anddarling of her childhood, the man for whom she had committed the deadlysin, which had so hopelessly imperilled her brave husband's life.

  "Sir Percy Blakeney would not be the trusted, honoured leader of a scoreof English gentlemen," said Sir Andrew, proudly, "if he abandonedthose who placed their trust in him. As for breaking his word, the verythought is preposterous!"

  There was silence for a moment or two. Marguerite had buried her facein her hands, and was letting the tears slowly trickle through hertrembling fingers. The young man said nothing; his heart ached for thisbeautiful woman in her awful grief. All along he had felt the terribleIMPASSE in which her own rash act had plunged them all. He knew hisfriend and leader so well, with his reckless daring, his mad bravery,his worship of his own word of honour. Sir Andrew knew that Blakeneywould brave any danger, run the wildest risks sooner than break it, andwith Chauvelin at his very heels, would make a final attempt, howeverdesperate, to rescue those who trusted in him.

  "Faith, Sir Andrew," said Marguerite at last, making brave effortsto dry her tears, "you are right, and I would not now shame myself bytrying to dissuade him from doing his duty. As you say, I should pleadin vain. God grant him strength and ability," she added fervently andresolutely, "to outwit his pursuers. He will not refuse to take you withhim, perhaps, when he starts on his noble work; between you, you w
illhave cunning as well as valour! God guard you both! In the meanwhile Ithink we should lose no time. I still believe that his safety dependsupon his knowing that Chauvelin is on his track."

  "Undoubtedly. He has wonderful resources at his command. As soon as heis aware of his danger he will exercise more caution: his ingenuity is averitable miracle."

  "Then, what say you to a voyage of reconnaissance in the village whilstI wait here against his coming!--You might come across Percy's trackand thus save valuable time. If you find him, tell him to beware!--hisbitterest enemy is on his heels!"

  "But this is such a villainous hole for you to wait in."

  "Nay, that I do not mind!--But you might ask our surly host if he couldlet me wait in another room, where I could be safer from the prying eyesof any chance traveller. Offer him some ready money, so that he shouldnot fail to give me word the moment the tall Englishman returns."

  She spoke quite calmly, even cheerfully now, thinking out her plans,ready for the worst if need be; she would show no more weakness, shewould prove herself worthy of him, who was about to give his life forthe sake of his fellow-men.

  Sir Andrew obeyed her without further comment. Instinctively he feltthat hers now was the stronger mind; he was willing to give himself overto her guidance, to become the hand, whilst she was the directing hand.

  He went to the door of the inner room, through which Brogard and hiswife had disappeared before, and knocked; as usual, he was answered by asalvo of muttered oaths.

  "Hey! friend Brogard!" said the man peremptorily, "my lady friend wouldwish to rest here awhile. Could you give her the use of another room?She would wish to be alone."

  He took some money out of his pocket, and allowed it to jinglesignificantly in his hand. Brogard had opened the door, and listened,with his usual surly apathy, to the young man's request. At the sight ofthe gold, however, his lazy attitude relaxed slightly; he took his pipefrom his mouth and shuffled into the room.

  He then pointed over his shoulder at the attic up in the wall.

  "She can wait up there!" he said with a grunt. "It's comfortable, and Ihave no other room."

  "Nothing could be better," said Marguerite in English; she at oncerealised the advantages such a position hidden from view would give her."Give him the money, Sir Andrew; I shall be quite happy up there, andcan see everything without being seen."

  She nodded to Brogard, who condescended to go up to the attic, and toshake up the straw that lay on the floor.

  "May I entreat you, madam, to do nothing rash," said Sir Andrew, asMarguerite prepared in her turn to ascend the rickety flight of steps."Remember this place is infested with spies. Do not, I beg of you,reveal yourself to Sir Percy, unless you are absolutely certain that youare alone with him."

  Even as he spoke, he felt how unnecessary was this caution: Margueritewas as calm, as clear-headed as any man. There was no fear of her doinganything that was rash.

  "Nay," she said with a slight attempt at cheerfulness, "that I canfaithfully promise you. I would not jeopardise my husband's life, noryet his plans, by speaking to him before strangers. Have no fear, I willwatch my opportunity, and serve him in the manner I think he needs itmost."

  Brogard had come down the steps again, and Marguerite was ready to go upto her safe retreat.

  "I dare not kiss your hand, madam," said Sir Andrew, as she began tomount the steps, "since I am your lacquey, but I pray you be of goodcheer. If I do not come across Blakeney in half an hour, I shall return,expecting to find him here."

  "Yes, that will be best. We can afford to wait for half an hour.Chauvelin cannot possibly be here before that. God grant that either youor I may have seen Percy by then. Good luck to you, friend! Have no fearfor me."

  Lightly she mounted the rickety wooden steps that led to the attic.Brogard was taking no further heed of her. She could make herselfcomfortable there or not as she chose. Sir Andrew watched her until shehad reached the curtains across, and the young man noted that she wassingularly well placed there, for seeing and hearing, whilst remainingunobserved.

  He had paid Brogard well; the surly old innkeeper would have no objectin betraying her. Then Sir Andrew prepared to go. At the door he turnedonce again and looked up at the loft. Through the ragged curtainsMarguerite's sweet face was peeping down at him, and the young manrejoiced to see that it looked serene, and even gently smiling. With afinal nod of farewell to her, he walked out into the night.

  CHAPTER XXIV THE DEATH-TRAP