The Elusive Pimpernel

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  Chauvelin heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction when Collot d'Herboisfinally left him to himself. He listened for awhile until the heavyfootsteps died away in the distance, then leaning back in his chair, hegave himself over to the delights of the present situation.

  Marguerite in his power. Sir Percy Blakeney compelled to treat for herrescue if he did not wish to see her die a miserable death.

  "Aye! my elusive hero," he muttered to himself, "methinks that we shallbe able to cry quits at last."

  Outside everything had become still. Even the wind in the trees outthere on the ramparts had ceased their melancholy moaning. The man wasalone with his thoughts. He felt secure and at peace, sure of victory,content to await the events of the next twenty-four hours. The otherside of the door the guard which he had picked out from amongst the morefeeble and ill-fed garrison of the little city for attendance on his ownperson were ranged ready to respond to his call.

  "Dishonour and ridicule! Derision and scorn!" he murmured, gloatingover the very sound of these words, which expressed all that he hoped toaccomplish, "utter abjections, then perhaps a suicide's grave..."

  He loved the silence around him, for he could murmur these words andhear them echoing against the bare stone walls like the whisperings ofall the spirits of hate which were waiting to lend him their aid.

  How long he had remained thus absorbed in his meditations, he could notafterwards have said; a minute or two perhaps at most, whilst he leanedback in his chair with eyes closed, savouring the sweets of his ownthoughts, when suddenly the silence was interrupted by a loud andpleasant laugh and a drawly voice speaking in merry accents:

  "The lud live you, Monsieur Chaubertin, and pray how do you propose toaccomplish all these pleasant things?"

  In a moment Chauvelin was on his feet and with eyes dilated, lips partedin awed bewilderment, he was gazing towards the open window, whereastride upon the sill, one leg inside the room, the other out, and withthe moon shining full on his suit of delicate-coloured cloth, his widecaped coat and elegant chapeau-bras, sat the imperturbable Sir Percy.

  "I heard you muttering such pleasant words, Monsieur," continuedBlakeney calmly, "that the temptation seized me to join in theconversation. A man talking to himself is ever in a sorry plight... heis either a mad man or a fool..."

  He laughed his own quaint and inane laugh and added apologetically:

  "Far be if from me, sir, to apply either epithet to you... demmed badform calling another fellow names... just when he does not quite feelhimself, eh?... You don't feel quite yourself, I fancy just now... eh,Monsieur Chauberin... er... beg pardon, Chauvelin..."

  He sat there quite comfortably, one slender hand resting on thegracefully-fashioned hilt of his sword--the sword of Lorenzo Cenci,--theother holding up the gold-rimed eyeglass through which he was regardinghis avowed enemy; he was dressed as for a ball, and his perpetuallyamiable smile lurked round the corners of his firm lips.

  Chauvelin had undoubtedly for the moment lost his presence of mind. Hedid not even think of calling to his picked guard, so completely takenaback was he by this unforeseen move on the part of Sir Percy. Yet,obviously, he should have been ready for this eventuality. Had he notcaused the town-crier to loudly proclaim throughout the city that ifONE female prisoner escaped from Fort Gayole the entire able-bodiedpopulation of Boulogne would suffer?

  The moment Sir Percy entered the gates of the town, he could not helpbut hear the proclamation, and hear at the same time that this onefemale prisoner who was so precious a charge, was the wife of theEnglish spy: the Scarlet Pimpernel.

  Moreover, was it not a fact that whenever or wherever the ScarletPimpernel was least expected there and then would he surely appear?Having once realized that it was his wife who was incarcerated in FortGayole, was it not natural that he would go and prowl around the prison,and along the avenue on the summit of the southern ramparts, which wasaccessible to every passer-by? No doubt he had lain in hiding amongthe trees, had perhaps caught snatches of Chauvelin's recent talk withCollot.

  Aye! it was all so natural, so simple! Strange that it should have beenso unexpected!

  Furious at himself for his momentary stupor, he now made a vigorouseffort to face his impudent enemy with the same sang-froid of which thelatter had so inexhaustible a fund.

  He walked quietly towards the window, compelling his nerves to perfectcalm and his mood to indifference. The situation had ceased to astonishhim; already his keen mind had seen its possibilities, its grimness andits humour, and he was quite prepared to enjoy these to the full.

  Sir Percy now was dusting the sleeve of his coat with a lace-edgedhandkerchief, but just as Chauvelin was about to come near him, hestretched out one leg, turning the point of a dainty boot towards theex-ambassador.

  "Would you like to take hold of me by the leg, Monsieur Chaubertin?" hesaid gaily. "'Tis more effectual than a shoulder, and your picked guardof six stalwart fellows can have the other leg.... Nay! I pray you,sir, do not look at me like that.... I vow that it is myself and not myghost.... But if you still doubt me, I pray you call the guard... ere Ifly out again towards that fitful moon..."

  "Nay, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, with a steady voice, "I have nothought that you will take flight just yet.... Methinks you desireconversation with me, or you had not paid me so unexpected a visit."

  "Nay, sir, the air is too oppressive for lengthy conversation... I wasstrolling along these ramparts, thinking of our pleasant encounter atthe hour of the Angelus to-morrow... when this light attracted me....feared I had lost my way and climbed the window to obtain information."

  "As to your way to the nearest prison cell, Sir Percy?" queriedChauvelin drily.

  "As to anywhere, where I could sit more comfortably than on this demmedsill.... It must be very dusty, and I vow 'tis terribly hard..."

  "I presume, Sir Percy, that you did my colleague and myself the honourof listening to our conversation?"

  "An you desired to talk secrets, Monsieur... er... Chaubertin... youshould have shut this window... and closed this avenue of trees againstthe chance passer-by."

  "What we said was no secret, Sir Percy. It is all over the townto-night."

  "Quite so... you were only telling the devil your mind... eh?"

  "I had also been having conversation with Lady Blakeney.... Pray did youhear any of that, sir?"

  But Sir Percy had evidently not heard the question, for he seemed quiteabsorbed in the task of removing a speck of dust from his immaculatechapeau-bras.

  "These hats are all the rage in England just now," he said airily, "butthey have had their day, do you not think so, Monsieur? When I returnto town, I shall have to devote my whole mind to the invention of a newheadgear..."

  "When will you return to England, Sir Percy?" queried Chauvelin withgood-natured sarcasm.

  "At the turn of the tide to-morrow eve, Monsieur," replied Blakeney.

  "In company with Lady Blakeney?"

  "Certainly, sir... and yours if you will honour us with your company."

  "If you return to England to-morrow, Sir Percy, Lady Blakeney, I fearme, cannot accompany you."

  "You astonish me, sir," rejoined Blakeney with an exclamation of genuineand unaffected surprise. "I wonder now what would prevent her?"

  "All those whose death would be the result of her flight, if shesucceeded in escaping from Boulogne..."

  But Sir Percy was staring at him, with wide open eyes expressive ofutmost amazement.

  "Dear, dear, dear.... Lud! but that sounds most unfortunate..."

  "You have not heard of the measures which I have taken to prevent LadyBlakeney quitting this city without our leave?"

  "No, Monsieur Chaubertin... no... I have heard nothing..." rejoined SirPercy blandly. "I lead a very retired life when I come abroad and..."

  "Would you wish to hear them now?"

  "Quite unnecessary, sir, I assure you... and the hour is gettinglate..."

  "Sir Percy, are you aware of the fact that unless you listen
to what Ihave to say, your wife will be dragged before the Committee of PublicSafety in Paris within the next twenty-four hours?" said Chauvelinfirmly.

  "What swift horses you must have, sir," quoth Blakeney pleasantly. "Lud!to think of it!... I always heard that these demmed French horses wouldnever beat ours across country."

  But Chauvelin now would not allow himself to be ruffled by Sir Percy'sapparent indifference. Keen reader of emotions as he was, he hadnot failed to note a distinct change in the drawly voice, a soundof something hard and trenchant in the flippant laugh, ever sinceMarguerite's name was first mentioned. Blakeney's attitude wasapparently as careless, as audacious as before, but Chauvelin's keeneyes had not missed the almost imperceptible tightening of the jaw andthe rapid clenching of one hand on the sword hilt even whilst the othertoyed in graceful idleness with the filmy Mechlin lace cravat.

  Sir Percy's head was well thrown back, and the pale rays of the mooncaught the edge of the clear-cut profile, the low massive brow, thedrooping lids through which the audacious plotter was lazily regardingthe man who held not only his own life, but that of the woman who wasinfinitely dear to him, in the hollow of his hand.

  "I am afraid, Sir Percy," continued Chauvelin drily, "that you are underthe impression that bolts and bars will yield to your usual good luck,now that so precious a life is at stake as that of Lady Blakeney."

  "I am a greater believer in impressions, Monsieur Chauvelin."

  "I told her just now that if she quitted Boulogne ere the ScarletPimpernel is in our hands, we should summarily shoot one member of everyfamily in the town--the bread-winner."

  "A pleasant conceit, Monsieur... and one that does infinite credit toyour inventive faculties."

  "Lady Blakeney, therefore, we hold safely enough," continued Chauvelin,who no longer heeded the mocking observations of his enemy; "as for theScarlet Pimpernel..."

  "You have but to ring a bell, to raise a voice, and he too will be underlock and key within the next two minutes, eh?... Passons, Monsieur...you are dying to say something further... I pray you proceed... yourengaging countenance is becoming quite interesting in its seriousness."

  "What I wish to say to you, Sir Percy, is in the nature of a proposedbargain."

  "Indeed?... Monsieur, you are full of surprises... like a prettywoman.... And pray what are the terms of this proposed bargain?"

  "Your side of the bargain, Sir Percy, or mine? Which will you hearfirst?"

  "Oh yours, Monsieur... yours, I pray you.... Have I not said that youare like a pretty woman?... Place aux dames, sir! always!"

  "My share of the bargain, sir, is simple enough: Lady Blakeney, escortedby yourself and any of your friends who might be in this city atthe time, shall leave Boulogne harbour at sunset to-morrow, free andunmolested, if you on the other hand will do your share..."

  "I don't yet know what my share in this interesting bargain is to be,sir... but for the sake of argument let us suppose that I do not carryit out.... What then?..."

  "Then, Sir Percy... putting aside for the moment the question of theScarlet Pimpernel altogether... then, Lady Blakeney will be taken toParis, and will be incarcerated in the prison of the Temple latelyvacated by Marie Antoinette--there she will be treated in exactly thesame was as the ex-queen is now being treated in the Conciergerie.... Doyou know what that means, Sir Percy?... It does not mean a summary trialand a speedy death, with the halo and glory of martyrdom thrown in... itmeans days, weeks, nay, months, perhaps, of misery and humiliation...it means, that like Marie Antoinette, she will never be allowed solitudefor one single instant of the day or night... it means the constantproximity of soldiers, drunk with cruelty and with hate... the insults,the shame..."

  "You hound!... you dog!... you cur!... do you not see that I muststrangle you for this!..."

  The attack had been so sudden and so violent that Chauvelin had not thetime to utter the slightest call for help. But a second ago, Sir PercyBlakeney had been sitting on the window-sill, outwardly listening withperfect calm to what his enemy had to say; now he was at the latter'sthroat, pressing with long and slender hands the breath out of theFrenchman's body, his usually placid face distorted into a mask of hate.

  "You cur!... you cur!..." he repeated, "am I to kill you or will youunsay those words?"

  Then suddenly he relaxed his grip. The habits of a lifetime would notbe gainsaid even now. A second ago his face had been livid with rageand hate, now a quick flush overspread it, as if he were ashamed of thisloss of self-control. He threw the little Frenchman away from him likehe would a beast which had snarled, and passed his hand across his brow.

  "Lud forgive me!" he said quaintly, "I had almost lost my temper."

  Chauvelin was not slow in recovering himself. He was plucky and alert,and his hatred for this man was so great that he had actually ceased tofear him. Now he quietly readjusted his cravat, made a vigorous effortto re-conquer his breath, and said firmly as soon as he could contriveto speak at all:

  "And if you did strangle me, Sir Percy, you would do yourself nogood. The fate which I have mapped out for Lady Blakeney, would thenirrevocably be hers, for she is in our power and none of my colleaguesare disposed to offer you a means of saving her from it, as I am readyto do."

  Blakeney was now standing in the middle of the room, with his handsburied in the pockets of his breeches, his manner and attitude once morecalm, debonnair, expressive of lofty self-possession and of absoluteindifference. He came quite close to the meagre little figure of hisexultant enemy, thereby forcing the latter to look up at him.

  "Oh!... ah!... yes!" he said airily, "I had nigh forgotten... you weretalking of a bargain... my share of it... eh?... Is it me you want?...Do you wish to see me in your Paris prisons?... I assure you, sir, thatthe propinquity of drunken soldiers may disgust me, but it would in noway disturb the equanimity of my temper."

  "I am quite sure of that, Sir Percy--and I can but repeat what I had thehonour of saying to Lady Blakeney just now--I do not desire the death ofso accomplished a gentleman as yourself."

  "Strange, Monsieur," retorted Blakeney, with a return of his accustomedflippancy. "Now I do desire your death very strongly indeed--there wouldbe so much less vermin on the face of the earth.... But pardon me--I wasinterrupting you.... Will you be so kind as to proceed?"

  Chauvelin had not winced at the insult. His enemy's attitude now lefthim completely indifferent. He had seen that self-possessed man ofthe world, that dainty and fastidious dandy, in the throes of anovermastering passion. He had very nearly paid with his life for thejoy of having roused that supercilious and dormant lion. In fact he wasready to welcome any insults from Sir Percy Blakeney now, since thesewould be only additional evidences that the Englishman's temper was notyet under control.

  "I will try to be brief, Sir Percy," he said, setting himself thetask of imitating his antagonist's affected manner. "Will you not sitdown?... We must try and discuss these matters like two men of theworld.... As for me, I am always happiest beside a board littered withpapers.... I am not an athlete, Sir Percy... and serve my country withmy pen rather than with my fists."

  Whilst he spoke he had reached the table and once more took the chairwhereon he had been sitting lately, when he dreamed the dreams whichwere so near realization now. He pointed with a graceful gesture to theother vacant chair, which Blakeney took without a word.

  "Ah!" said Chauvelin with a sigh of satisfaction, "I see that we areabout to understand one another.... I have always felt it was a pity,Sir Percy, that you and I could not discuss certain matters pleasantlywith one another.... Now, about this unfortunate incident of LadyBlakeney's incarceration, I would like you to believe that I had no partin the arrangements which have been made for her detention in Paris. Mycolleagues have arranged it all... and I have vainly tried to protestagainst the rigorous measures which are to be enforced against her inthe Temple prison.... But these are answering so completely in thecase of the ex-queen, they have so completely broken her spirit and herpride, that
my colleagues felt that they would prove equally useful inorder to bring the Scarlet Pimpernel--through his wife--to an humblerframe of mind."

  He paused a moment, distinctly pleased with his peroration, satisfiedthat his voice had been without a tremor and his face impassive, andwondering what effect this somewhat lengthy preamble had upon SirPercy, who through it all had remained singularly quiet. Chauvelin waspreparing himself for the next effect which he hoped to produce, andwas vaguely seeking for the best words with which to fully express hismeaning, when he was suddenly startled by a sound as unexpected as itwas disconcerting.

  It was the sound of a loud and prolonged snore. He pushed the candleaside, which somewhat obstructed his line of vision, and casting a rapidglance at the enemy, with whose life he was toying even as a cat dothwith that of a mouse, he saw that the aforesaid mouse was calmly andunmistakably asleep.

  An impatient oath escaped Chauvelin's lips, and he brought his fistheavily down on the table, making the metal candlesticks rattle andcausing Sir Percy to open one sleepy eye.

  "A thousand pardons, sir," said Blakeney with a slight yawn. "I am sodemmed fatigued, and your preface was unduly long.... Beastly bad form,I know, going to sleep during a sermon... but I haven't had a wink ofsleep all day.... I pray you to excuse me..."

  "Will you condescend to listen, Sir Percy?" queried Chauvelinperemptorily, "or shall I call the guard and give up all thoughts oftreating with you?"

  "Just whichever you demmed well prefer, sir," rejoined Blakeneyimpatiently.

  And once more stretching out his long limbs, he buried his hands inthe pockets of his breeches and apparently prepared himself for anotherquiet sleep. Chauvelin looked at him for a moment, vaguely wonderingwhat to do next. He felt strangely irritated at what he firmly believedwas mere affectation on Blakeney's part, and although he was burningwith impatience to place the terms of the proposed bargain before thisman, yet he would have preferred to be interrogated, to deliver his"either-or" with becoming sternness and decision, rather than to takethe initiative in this discussion, where he should have been calm andindifferent, whilst his enemy should have been nervous and disturbed.

  Sir Percy's attitude had disconcerted him, a touch of the grotesque hadbeen given to what should have been a tense moment, and it was terriblygalling to the pride of the ex-diplomatist that with this elusiveenemy and in spite of his own preparedness for any eventuality, it wasinvariably the unforeseen that happened.

  After a moment's reflection, however, he decided upon a fresh course ofaction. He rose and crossed the room, keeping as much as possible an eyeupon Sir Percy, but the latter sat placid and dormant and evidentlyin no hurry to move. Chauvelin having reached the door, opened itnoiselessly, and to the sergeant in command of his bodyguard who stoodat attention outside, he whispered hurriedly:

  "The prisoner from No. 6.... Let two of the men bring her hither back tome at once."

  Chapter XXVI: The Terms of the Bargain