Less than half an hour later, Marguerite, buried in thoughts, sat insideher coach, which was bearing her swiftly to London.
She had taken an affectionate farewell of little Suzanne, and seen thechild safely started with her maid, and in her own coach, back to town.She had sent one courier with a respectful letter of excuse to His RoyalHighness, begging for a postponement of the august visit on account ofpressing and urgent business, and another on ahead to bespeak a freshrelay of horses at Faversham.
Then she had changed her muslin frock for a dark travelling costume andmantle, had provided herself with money--which her husband's lavishnessalways placed fully at her disposal--and had started on her way.
She did not attempt to delude herself with any vain and futile hopes;the safety of her brother Armand was to have been conditional on theimminent capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel. As Chauvelin had sent herback Armand's compromising letter, there was no doubt that he was quitesatisfied in his own mind that Percy Blakeney was the man whose death hehad sworn to bring about.
No! there was no room for any fond delusions! Percy, the husband whomshe loved with all the ardour which her admiration for his braveryhad kindled, was in immediate, deadly peril, through her hand. She hadbetrayed him to his enemy--unwittingly 'tis true--but she HAD betrayedhim, and if Chauvelin succeeded in trapping him, who so far was unawareof his danger, then his death would be at her door. His death! when withher very heart's blood, she would have defended him and given willinglyher life for his.
She had ordered her coach to drive her to the "Crown" inn; once there,she told her coachman to give the horses food and rest. Then she ordereda chair, and had herself carried to the house in Pall Mall where SirAndrew Ffoulkes lived.
Among all Percy's friends who were enrolled under his daring banner,she felt that she would prefer to confide in Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. He hadalways been her friend, and now his love for little Suzanne had broughthim closer to her still. Had he been away from home, gone on the maderrand with Percy, perhaps, then she would have called on Lord Hastingsor Lord Tony--for she wanted the help of one of these young men, or shewould indeed be powerless to save her husband.
Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, however, was at home, and his servant introducedher ladyship immediately. She went upstairs to the young man'scomfortable bachelor's chambers, and was shown into a small, thoughluxuriously furnished, dining-room. A moment or two later Sir Andrewhimself appeared.
He had evidently been much startled when he heard who his lady visitorwas, for he looked anxiously--even suspiciously--at Marguerite, whilstperforming the elaborate bows before her, which the rigid etiquette ofthe time demanded.
Marguerite had laid aside every vestige of nervousness; she wasperfectly calm, and having returned the young man's elaborate salute,she began very calmly,--
"Sir Andrew, I have no desire to waste valuable time in much talk. Youmust take certain things I am going to tell you for granted. These willbe of no importance. What is important is that your leader and comrade,the Scarlet Pimpernel . . . my husband . . . Percy Blakeney . . . is indeadly peril."
Had she the remotest doubt of the correctness of her deductions, shewould have had them confirmed now, for Sir Andrew, completely taken bysurprise, had grown very pale, and was quite incapable of making theslightest attempt at clever parrying.
"No matter how I know this, Sir Andrew," she continued quietly,"thank God that I do, and that perhaps it is not too late to save him.Unfortunately, I cannot do this quite alone, and therefore have come toyou for help."
"Lady Blakeney," said the young man, trying to recover himself,"I . . ."
"Will you hear me first?" she interrupted. "This is how the matterstands. When the agent of the French Government stole your papers thatnight in Dover, he found amongst them certain plans, which you or yourleader meant to carry out for the rescue of the Comte de Tournay andothers. The Scarlet Pimpernel--Percy, my husband--has gone on thiserrand himself to-day. Chauvelin knows that the Scarlet Pimperneland Percy Blakeney are one and the same person. He will follow him toCalais, and there will lay hands on him. You know as well as I do thefate that awaits him at the hands of the Revolutionary Government ofFrance. No interference from England--from King George himself--wouldsave him. Robespierre and his gang would see to it that the interferencecame too late. But not only that, the much-trusted leader will also havebeen unconsciously the means of revealing the hiding-place of the Comtede Tournay and of all those who, even now, are placing their hopes inhim."
She had spoken quietly, dispassionately, and with firm, unbendingresolution. 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 whatwas best to be done.
"Aye! but I think you do, Sir Andrew. You must know that I am speakingthe truth. Look these facts straight in the face. Percy has sailed forCalais, I presume for some lonely part of the coast, and Chauvelin is onhis track. HE has posted for Dover, and will cross the Channel probablyto-night. What do you think will happen?"
The young man was silent.
"Percy will arrive at his destination: unconscious of being followed hewill seek out de Tournay and the others--among these is Armand St. Justmy brother--he will seek them out, one after another, probably, notknowing that the sharpest eyes in the world are watching his everymovement. When he has thus unconsciously betrayed those who blindlytrust in him, when nothing can be gained from him, and he is ready tocome 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 endhis noble life upon the guillotine."
Still Sir Andrew was silent.
"You do not trust me," she said passionately. "Oh God! cannot you seethat I am in deadly earnest? Man, man," she added, while, with her tinyhands she seized the young man suddenly by the shoulders, forcing himto look straight at her, "tell me, do I look like that vilest thing onearth--a woman who would betray her own husband?"
"God forbid, Lady Blakeney," said the young man at last, "that I shouldattribute such evil motives to you, but . . ."
"But what? . . . tell me. . . . Quick, man! . . . the very seconds areprecious!"
"Will you tell me," he asked resolutely, and looking searchingly intoher blue eyes, "whose hand helped to guide M. Chauvelin to the knowledgewhich you say he possesses?"
"Mine," she said quietly, "I own it--I will not lie to you, for I wishyou to trust me absolutely. But I had no idea--how COULD I have?--of theidentity of the Scarlet Pimpernel . . . and my brother's safety was to bemy 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 abrother to me, and . . . and . . . how COULD I guess? . . . But we wastetime, Sir Andrew . . . every second is precious . . . in the name of God!. . . my husband is in peril . . . your friend!--your comrade!--Help me tosave him."
Sir Andrew felt his position to be a very awkward one. The oath he hadtaken before his leader and comrade was one of obedience and secrecy;and yet the beautiful woman, who was asking him to trust her, wasundoubtedly in earnest; his friend and leader was equally undoubtedly inimminent danger and . . .
"Lady Blakeney," he said at last, "God knows you have perplexed me, sothat I do not know which way my duty lies. Tell me what you wish me todo. There are nineteen of us ready to lay down our lives for the ScarletPimpernel if he is in danger."
"There is no need for lives just now, my friend," she said drily; "mywits and four swift horses will serve the necessary purpose. But I mustknow where to find him. See," she added, while her eyes filled withtears, "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 verythick one. Is it small wonder that I did not see t
hrough it? But lastnight, after I led him unwittingly into such deadly peril, it suddenlyfell from my eyes. If you will not help me, Sir Andrew, I would stillstrive to save my husband. I would still exert every faculty I possessfor his sake; but I might be powerless, for I might arrive too late,and nothing would be left for you but lifelong remorse, and . . . and. . . for me, a broken heart."
"But, Lady Blakeney," said the young man, touched by the gentleearnestness of this exquisitely beautiful woman, "do you know that whatyou propose doing is man's work?--you cannot possibly journey to Calaisalone. You would be running the greatest possible risks to yourself, andyour chances of finding your husband now--were I to direct you ever socarefully--are infinitely remote.
"Oh, I hope there are risks!" she murmured softly, "I hope there aredangers, 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 belost. . . . I MUST get to him! I MUST!" she repeated with almost savageenergy, "to warn him that that man is on his track. . . . Can't yousee--can't you see, that I MUST get to him . . . even . . . even if it betoo late to save him . . . at least . . . to be by his side . . . at theleast."
"Faith, Madame, you must command me. Gladly would I or any of mycomrades lay down our lives for your husband. If you WILL goyourself. . . ."
"Nay, friend, do you not see that I would go mad if I let you go withoutme?" 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 followme, as swiftly as horses will take you. We meet at nightfall at 'TheFisherman's Rest.' Chauvelin would avoid it, as he is known there, and Ithink 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 socarefully. We'll charter a schooner at Dover and cross over during thenight. Disguised, if you will agree to it, as my lacquey, you will, Ithink, escape detection."
"I am entirely at your service, Madame," rejoined the young manearnestly. "I trust to God that you will sight the DAY DREAM beforewe reach Calais. With Chauvelin at his heels, every step the ScarletPimpernel takes on French soil is fraught with danger."
"God grant it, Sir Andrew. But now, farewell. We meet to-night atDover! It will be a race between Chauvelin and me across the Channelto-night--and the prize--the life of the Scarlet Pimpernel."
He kissed her hand, and then escorted her to her chair. A quarter of anhour later she was back at the "Crown" inn, where her coach and horseswere ready and waiting for her. The next moment they thundered alongthe London streets, and then straight on to the Dover road at maddeningspeed.
She had no time for despair now. She was up and doing and had no leisureto think. With Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as her companion and ally, hope hadonce again revived in her heart.
God would be merciful. He would not allow so appalling a crime to becommitted, as the death of a brave man, through the hand of a woman wholoved him, and worshipped him, and who would gladly have died for hissake.
Marguerite's thoughts flew back to him, the mysterious hero, whom shehad always unconsciously loved, when his identity was still unknown toher. Laughingly, in the olden days, she used to call him the shadowyking of her heart, and now she had suddenly found that this enigmaticpersonality whom she had worshipped, and the man who loved her sopassionately, were one and the same: what wonder that one or two happiervisions began to force their way before her mind. She vaguely wonderedwhat she would say to him when first they would stand face to face.
She had had so many anxieties, so much excitement during the past fewhours, that she allowed herself the luxury of nursing these few morehopeful, brighter thoughts. Gradually the rumble of the coach wheels,with its incessant monotony, acted soothingly on her nerves: hereyes, aching with fatigue and many shed and unshed tears, closedinvoluntarily, and she fell into a troubled sleep.
CHAPTER XXI SUSPENSE
The Scarlet Pimpernel Page 20