reat deal to say to their chief . . . and thus they will have an
opportunity of speaking to him to-night, just as he directed them to do.
Therefore, this morning, those two young gallants found every bar
and bolt open in that lonely house on the Dover Road, their jailers
disappeared, and two good horses standing ready saddled and tethered in
the yard. I have not seen them yet, but I think we may safely conclude
that they did not draw rein until they reached London. Now you see how
simple it all is, citoyenne!"

"It does seem simple, doesn't it?" she said, with a final bitter attempt
at flippancy, "when you want to kill a chicken . . . you take hold of
it . . . then you wring its neck . . . it's only the chicken who does
not find it quite so simple. Now you hold a knife at my throat, and a
hostage for my obedience. . . . You find it simple. . . . I don't."

"Nay, citoyenne, I offer you a chance of saving the brother you love
from the consequences of his own folly."

Marguerite's face softened, her eyes at last grew moist, as she
murmured, half to herself:

"The only being in the world who has loved me truly and constantly
. . . But what do you want me to do, Chauvelin?" she said, with a world
of despair in her tear-choked voice. "In my present position, it is
well-nigh impossible!"

"Nay, citoyenne," he said drily and relentlessly, not heeding that
despairing, childlike appeal, which might have melted a heart of stone,
"as Lady Blakeney, no one suspects you, and with your help to-night I
may--who knows?--succeed in finally establishing the identity of the
Scarlet Pimpernel. . . . You are going to the ball anon. . . . Watch
for me there, citoyenne, watch and listen. . . . You can tell me if you
hear a chance word or whisper. . . . You can note everyone to whom Sir
Andrew Ffoulkes or Lord Antony Dewhurst will speak. You are absolutely
beyond suspicion now. The Scarlet Pimpernel will be at Lord Grenville's
ball to-night. Find out who he is, and I will pledge the word of France
that your brother shall be safe."

Chauvelin was putting the knife to her throat. Marguerite felt herself
entangled in one of those webs, from which she could hope for no escape.
A precious hostage was being held for her obedience: for she knew that
this man would never make an empty threat. No doubt Armand was already
signalled to the Committee of Public Safety as one of the "suspect";
he would not be allowed to leave France again, and would be