Marguerite listened--half-dazed as she was--to the fast-retreating, firmfootsteps of the four men.
All nature was so still that she, lying with her ear close to theground, could distinctly trace the sound of their tread, as theyultimately turned into the road, and presently the faint echo of the oldcart-wheels, the halting gait of the lean nag, told her that her enemywas a quarter of a league away. How long she lay there she knew not. Shehad lost count of time; dreamily she looked up at the moonlit sky, andlistened to the monotonous roll of the waves.
The invigorating scent of the sea was nectar to her wearied body, theimmensity of the lonely cliffs was silent and dreamlike. Her brainonly remained conscious of its ceaseless, its intolerable torture ofuncertainty.
She did not know!--
She did not know whether Percy was even now, at this moment, in thehands of the soldiers of the Republic, enduring--as she had doneherself--the gibes and jeers of his malicious enemy. She did not know,on the other hand, whether Armand's lifeless body did not lie there, inthe hut, whilst Percy had escaped, only to hear that his wife's handshad guided the human bloodhounds to the murder of Armand and hisfriends.
The physical pain of utter weariness was so great, that she hopedconfidently her tired body could rest here for ever, after all theturmoil, the passion, and the intrigues of the last few days--here,beneath that clear sky, within sound of the sea, and with this balmyautumn breeze whispering to her a last lullaby. All was so solitary,so silent, like unto dreamland. Even the last faint echo of the distantcart had long ago died away, afar.
Suddenly . . . a sound . . . the strangest, undoubtedly, that these lonelycliffs of France had ever heard, broke the silent solemnity of theshore.
So strange a sound was it that the gentle breeze ceased to murmur,the tiny pebbles to roll down the steep incline! So strange, thatMarguerite, wearied, overwrought as she was, thought that the beneficialunconsciousness of the approach of death was playing her half-sleepingsenses a weird and elusive trick.
It was the sound of a good, solid, absolutely British "Damn!"
The sea gulls in their nests awoke and looked round in astonishment; adistant and solitary owl set up a midnight hoot, the tall cliffs frowneddown majestically at the strange, unheard-of sacrilege.
Marguerite did not trust her ears. Half-raising herself on her hands,she strained every sense to see or hear, to know the meaning of thisvery earthly sound.
All was still again for the space of a few seconds; the same silenceonce more fell upon the great and lonely vastness.
Then Marguerite, who had listened as in a trance, who felt she must bedreaming with that cool, magnetic moonlight overhead, heard again; andthis time her heart stood still, her eyes large and dilated, lookedround her, not daring to trust her other sense.
"Odd's life! but I wish those demmed fellows had not hit quite so hard!"
This time it was quite unmistakable, only one particular pair ofessentially British lips could have uttered those words, in sleepy,drawly, affected tones.
"Damn!" repeated those same British lips, emphatically. "Zounds! but I'mas weak as a rat!"
In a moment Marguerite was on her feet.
Was she dreaming? Were those great, stony cliffs the gates of paradise?Was the fragrant breath of the breeze suddenly caused by the flutter ofangels' wings, bringing tidings of unearthly joys to her, after all hersuffering, or--faint and ill--was she the prey of delirium?
She listened again, and once again she heard the same very earthlysounds of good, honest British language, not the least akin towhisperings from paradise or flutter of angels' wings.
She looked round her eagerly at the tall cliffs, the lonely hut, thegreat stretch of rocky beach. Somewhere there, above or below her,behind a boulder or inside a crevice, but still hidden from her longing,feverish eyes, must be the owner of that voice, which once used toirritate her, but now would make her the happiest woman in Europe, ifonly she could locate it.
"Percy! Percy!" she shrieked hysterically, tortured between doubt andhope, "I am here! Come to me! Where are you? Percy! Percy! . . ."
"It's all very well calling me, m'dear!" said the same sleepy, drawlyvoice, "but odd's life, I cannot come to you: those demmed frog-eatershave trussed me like a goose on a spit, and I am weak as a mouse . . . Icannot get away."
And still Marguerite did not understand. She did not realise for atleast another ten seconds whence came that voice, so drawly, so dear,but alas! with a strange accent of weakness and of suffering. There wasno one within sight . . . except by that rock . . . Great God! . . . theJew! . . . Was she mad or dreaming? . . .
His back was against the pale moonlight, he was half crouching, tryingvainly to raise himself with his arms tightly pinioned. Marguerite ranup to him, took his head in both her hands . . . and look straight intoa pair of blue eyes, good-natured, even a trifle amused--shining out ofthe weird and distorted mask of the Jew.
"Percy! . . . Percy! . . . my husband!" she gasped, faint with the fulnessof her joy. "Thank God! Thank God!"
"La! m'dear," he rejoined good-humouredly, "we will both do that anon,an you think you can loosen these demmed ropes, and release me from myinelegant attitude."
She had no knife, her fingers were numb and weak, but she worked awaywith her teeth, while great welcome tears poured from her eyes, ontothose poor, pinioned hands.
"Odd's life!" he said, when at last, after frantic efforts on her part,the ropes seemed at last to be giving way, "but I marvel whether it hasever happened before, that an English gentleman allowed himself to belicked by a demmed foreigner, and made no attempt to give as good as hegot."
It was very obvious that he was exhausted from sheer physical pain, andwhen at last the rope gave way, he fell in a heap against the rock.
Marguerite looked helplessly round her.
"Oh! for a drop of water on this awful beach!" she cried in agony,seeing that he was ready to faint again.
"Nay, m'dear," he murmured with his good-humoured smile, "personally Ishould prefer a drop of good French brandy! an you'll dive in the pocketof this dirty old garment, you'll find my flask. . . . I am demmed if Ican move."
When he had drunk some brandy, he forced Marguerite to do likewise.
"La! that's better now! Eh! little woman?" he said, with a sigh ofsatisfaction. "Heigh-ho! but this is a queer rig-up for Sir PercyBlakeney, Bart., to be found in by his lady, and no mistake. Begad!" headded, passing his hand over his chin, "I haven't been shaved for nearlytwenty hours: I must look a disgusting object. As for these curls . . ."
And laughingly he took off the disfiguring wig and curls, and stretchedout his long limbs, which were cramped from many hours' stooping. Thenhe bent forward and looked long and searchingly into his wife's blueeyes.
"Percy," she whispered, while a deep blush suffused her delicate cheeksand neck, "if you only knew . . ."
"I do know, dear . . . everything," he said with infinite gentleness.
"And can you ever forgive?"
"I have naught to forgive, sweetheart; your heroism, your devotion,which I, alas! so little deserved, have more than atoned for thatunfortunate episode at the ball."
"Then you knew? . . ." she whispered, "all the time . . ."
"Yes!" he replied tenderly, "I knew . . . all the time. . . . But,begad! had I but known what a noble heart yours was, my Margot, I shouldhave trusted you, as you deserved to be trusted, and you would not havehad to undergo the terrible sufferings of the past few hours, in orderto run after a husband, who has done so much that needs forgiveness."
They were sitting side by side, leaning up against a rock, and he hadrested his aching head on her shoulder. She certainly now deserved thename of "the happiest woman in Europe."
"It is a case of the blind leading the lame, sweetheart, is it not?" hesaid with his good-natured smile of old. "Odd's life! but I do not knowwhich are the more sore, my shoulders or your little feet."
He bent forward to kiss them, for they peeped out through
her tornstockings, and bore pathetic witness to her endurance and devotion.
"But Armand . . ." she said with sudden terror and remorse, as in themidst of her happiness the image of the beloved brother, for whose sakeshe had so deeply sinned, rose now before her mind.
"Oh! have no fear for Armand, sweetheart," he said tenderly, "did I notpledge you my word that he should be safe? He with de Tournay and theothers are even now on board the DAY DREAM."
"But how?" she gasped, "I do not understand."
"Yet, 'tis simple enough, m'dear," he said with that funny, half-shy,half-inane laugh of his, "you see! when I found that that bruteChauvelin meant to stick to me like a leech, I thought the best thing Icould do, as I could not shake him off, was to take him along with me.I had to get to Armand and the others somehow, and all the roads werepatrolled, and every one on the look-out for your humble servant. I knewthat when I slipped through Chauvelin's fingers at the 'Chat Gris,' thathe would lie in wait for me here, whichever way I took. I wanted to keepan eye on him and his doings, and a British head is as good as a Frenchone any day."
Indeed it had proved to be infinitely better, and Marguerite's heart wasfilled with joy and marvel, as he continued to recount to her the daringmanner in which he had snatched the fugitives away, right from underChauvelin's very nose.
"Dressed as the dirty old Jew," he said gaily, "I knew I should not berecognized. I had met Reuben Goldstein in Calais earlier in the evening.For a few gold pieces he supplied me with this rig-out, and undertook tobury himself out of sight of everybody, whilst he lent me his cart andnag."
"But if Chauvelin had discovered you," she gasped excitedly, "yourdisguise was good . . . but he is so sharp."
"Odd's fish!" he rejoined quietly, "then certainly the game would havebeen up. I could but take the risk. I know human nature pretty well bynow," he added, with a note of sadness in his cheery, young voice, "andI know these Frenchmen out and out. They so loathe a Jew, that theynever come nearer than a couple of yards of him, and begad! I fancy thatI contrived to make myself look about as loathsome an object as it ispossible to conceive."
"Yes!--and then?" she asked eagerly.
"Zooks!--then I carried out my little plan: that is to say, at firstI only determined to leave everything to chance, but when I heardChauvelin giving his orders to the soldiers, I thought that Fate and Iwere going to work together after all. I reckoned on the blind obedienceof the soldiers. Chauvelin had ordered them on pain of death not tostir until the tall Englishman came. Desgas had thrown me down in a heapquite close to the hut; the soldiers took no notice of the Jew, who haddriven Citoyen Chauvelin to this spot. I managed to free my hands fromthe ropes, with which the brute had trussed me; I always carry penciland paper with me wherever I go, and I hastily scrawled a few importantinstructions on a scrap of paper; then I looked about me. I crawled upto the hut, under the very noses of the soldiers, who lay under coverwithout stirring, just as Chauvelin had ordered them to do, then Idropped my little note into the hut through a chink in the wall, andwaited. In this note I told the fugitives to walk noiselessly out ofthe hut, creep down the cliffs, keep to the left until they came to thefirst creek, to give a certain signal, when the boat of the DAY DREAM,which lay in wait not far out to sea, would pick them up. They obeyedimplicitly, fortunately for them and for me. The soldiers who saw themwere equally obedient to Chauvelin's orders. They did not stir! I waitedfor nearly half an hour; when I knew that the fugitives were safe I gavethe signal, which caused so much stir."
And that was the whole story. It seemed so simple! and Marguerite couldbut marvel at the wonderful ingenuity, the boundless pluck and audacitywhich had evolved and helped to carry out this daring plan.
"But those brutes struck you!" she gasped in horror, at the barerecollection of the fearful indignity.
"Well! that could not be helped," he said gently, "whilst my littlewife's fate was so uncertain, I had to remain here by her side. Odd'slife!" he added merrily, "never fear! Chauvelin will lose nothing bywaiting, I warrant! Wait till I get him back to England!--La! he shallpay for the thrashing he gave me with compound interest, I promise you."
Marguerite laughed. It was so good to be beside him, to hear his cheeryvoice, to watch that good-humoured twinkle in his blue eyes, as hestretched out his strong arms, in longing for that foe, and anticipationof his well-deserved punishment.
Suddenly, however, she started: the happy blush left her cheek, thelight of joy died out of her eyes: she had heard a stealthy footfalloverhead, and a stone had rolled down from the top of the cliffs rightdown to the beach below.
"What's that?" she whispered in horror and alarm.
"Oh! nothing, m'dear," he muttered with a pleasant laugh, "only a trifleyou happened to have forgotten . . . my friend, Ffoulkes . . ."
"Sir Andrew!" she gasped.
Indeed, she had wholly forgotten the devoted friend and companion,who had trusted and stood by her during all these hours of anxiety andsuffering. She remembered him now, tardily and with a pang of remorse.
"Aye! you had forgotten him, hadn't you, m'dear?" said Sir Percymerrily. "Fortunately, I met him, not far from the 'Chat Gris.' beforeI had that interesting supper party, with my friend Chauvelin. . . .Odd's life! but I have a score to settle with that young reprobate!--butin the meanwhile, I told him of a very long, very circuitous road whichChauvelin's men would never suspect, just about the time when we areready for him, eh, little woman?"
"And he obeyed?" asked Marguerite, in utter astonishment.
"Without word or question. See, here he comes. He was not in the waywhen I did not want him, and now he arrives in the nick of time. Ah!he will make pretty little Suzanne a most admirable and methodicalhusband."
In the meanwhile Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had cautiously worked his way downthe cliffs: he stopped once or twice, pausing to listen for whisperedwords, which would guide him to Blakeney's hiding-place.
"Blakeney!" he ventured to say at last cautiously, "Blakeney! are youthere?"
The next moment he rounded the rock against which Sir Percy andMarguerite were leaning, and seeing the weird figure still clad in theJew's long gaberdine, he paused in sudden, complete bewilderment.
But already Blakeney had struggled to his feet.
"Here I am, friend," he said with his funny, inane laugh, "all alive!though I do look a begad scarecrow in these demmed things."
"Zooks!" ejaculated Sir Andrew in boundless astonishment as herecognized his leader, "of all the . . ."
The young man had seen Marguerite, and happily checked the forciblelanguage that rose to his lips, at sight of the exquisite Sir Percy inthis weird and dirty garb.
"Yes!" said Blakeney, calmly, "of all the . . . hem! . . . My friend!--Ihave not yet had time to ask you what you were doing in France, whenI ordered you to remain in London? Insubordination? What? Wait till myshoulders are less sore, and, by God, see the punishment you'll get."
"Odd's fish! I'll bear it," said Sir Andrew with a merry laugh, "seeingthat you are alive to give it. . . . Would you have had me allow LadyBlakeney to do the journey alone? But, in the name of heaven, man, wheredid you get these extraordinary clothes?"
"Lud! they are a bit quaint, ain't they?" laughed Sir Percy, jovially,"But, odd's fish!" he added, with sudden earnestness and authority,"now you are here, Ffoulkes, we must lose no more time: that bruteChauvelin may send some one to look after us."
Marguerite was so happy, she could have stayed here for ever, hearinghis voice, asking a hundred questions. But at mention of Chauvelin'sname she started in quick alarm, afraid for the dear life she would havedied to save.
"But how can we get back?" she gasped; "the roads are full of soldiersbetween here and Calais, and . . ."
"We are not going back to Calais, sweetheart," he said, "but just theother side of Gris Nez, not half a league from here. The boat of the DAYDREAM will meet us there."
"The boat of the DAY DREAM?"
"Yes!" he said, with a merry laugh; "another little
trick of mine. Ishould have told you before that when I slipped that note into the hut,I also added another for Armand, which I directed him to leave behind,and which has sent Chauvelin and his men running full tilt back tothe 'Chat Gris' after me; but the first little note contained my realinstructions, including those to old Briggs. He had my orders to go outfurther to sea, and then towards the west. When well out of sight ofCalais, he will send the galley to a little creek he and I know of, justbeyond Gris Nez. The men will look out for me--we have a preconcertedsignal, and we will all be safely aboard, whilst Chauvelin and hismen solemnly sit and watch the creek which is 'just opposite the "ChatGris."'"
"The other side of Gris Nez? But I . . . I cannot walk, Percy," shemoaned helplessly as, trying to struggle to her tired feet, she foundherself unable even to stand.
"I will carry you, dear," he said simply; "the blind leading the lame,you know."
Sir Andrew was ready, too, to help with the precious burden, but SirPercy would not entrust his beloved to any arms but his own.
"When you and she are both safely on board the DAY DREAM," he said tohis young comrade, "and I feel that Mlle. Suzanne's eyes will not greetme in England with reproachful looks, then it will be my turn to rest."
And his arms, still vigorous in spite of fatigue and suffering, closedround Marguerite's poor, weary body, and lifted her as gently as if shehad been a feather.
Then, as Sir Andrew discreetly kept out of earshot, there were manythings said, or rather whispered, which even the autumn breeze did notcatch, for it had gone to rest.
All his fatigue was forgotten; his shoulders must have been very sore,for the soldiers had hit hard, but the man's muscles seemed made ofsteel, and his energy was almost supernatural. It was a weary tramp,half a league along the stony side of the cliffs, but never for a momentdid his courage give way or his muscles yield to fatigue. On he tramped,with firm footstep, his vigorous arms encircling the precious burden,and . . . no doubt, as she lay, quiet and happy, at times lulled tomomentary drowsiness, at others watching, through the slowly gatheringmorning light, the pleasant face with the lazy, drooping blue eyes, evercheerful, ever illumined with a good-humoured smile, she whispered manythings, which helped to shorten the weary road, and acted as a soothingbalsam to his aching sinews.
The many-hued light of dawn was breaking in the east, when at last theyreached the creek beyond Gris Nez. The galley lay in wait: in answer toa signal from Sir Percy, she drew near, and two sturdy British sailorshad the honour of carrying my lady into the boat.
Half an hour later, they were on board the DAY DREAM. The crew, who ofnecessity were in their master's secrets, and who were devoted tohim heart and soul, were not surprised to see him arriving in soextraordinary a disguise.
Armand St. Just and the other fugitives were eagerly awaiting the adventof their brave rescuer; he would not stay to hear the expressions oftheir gratitude, but found the way to his private cabin as quickly as hecould, leaving Marguerite quite happy in the arms of her brother.
Everything on board the DAY DREAM was fitted with that exquisite luxury,so dear to Sir Percy Blakeney's heart, and by the time they all landedat Dover he had found time to get into some of the sumptuous clotheswhich he loved, and of which he always kept a supply on board his yacht.
The difficulty was to provide Marguerite with a pair of shoes, and greatwas the little middy's joy when my lady found that she could put foot onEnglish shore in his best pair.
The rest is silence!--silence and joy for those who had endured so muchsuffering, yet found at last a great and lasting happiness.
But it is on record that at the brilliant wedding of Sir AndrewFfoulkes, Bart., with Mlle. Suzanne de Tournay de Basserive, a functionat which H. R. H. the Prince of Wales and all the ELITE of fashionablesociety were present, the most beautiful woman there was unquestionablyLady Blakeney, whilst the clothes of Sir Percy Blakeney were thetalk of the JEUNESSE DOREE of London for many days.
It is also a fact that M. Chauvelin, the accredited agent of the FrenchRepublican Government, was not present at that or any other socialfunction in London, after that memorable evening at Lord Grenville'sball.
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