His
contempt, no doubt, for the Scarlet Pimpernel and his followers would be
increased tenfold.

Then at last the question of the disguise was effectually dismissed. Sir
Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Anthony Dewhurst had settled their differences
of opinion by solemnly agreeing to represent two over-grimy and
overheated coal-heavers. They chose two certificates of safety that were
made out in the names of Jean Lepetit and Achille Grospierre, labourers.

"Though you don't look at all like an Achille, Tony," was Blakeney's
parting shot to his friend.

Then without any transition from this schoolboy nonsense to the serious
business of the moment, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes said abruptly:

"Tell us exactly, Blakeney, where you will want the cart to stand on
Sunday."

Blakeney rose and turned to the map against the wall, Ffoulkes and Tony
following him. They stood close to his elbow whilst his slender, nervy
hand wandered along the shiny surface of the varnished paper. At last he
placed his finger on one spot.

"Here you see," he said, "is the Villette gate. Just outside it a narrow
street on the right leads down in the direction of the canal. It is just
at the bottom of that narrow street at its junction with the tow-path
there that I want you two and the cart to be. It had better be a
coal-car by the way; they will be unloading coal close by there
to-morrow," he added with one of his sudden irrepressible outbursts of
merriment. "You and Tony can exercise your muscles coal-heaving, and
incidentally make yourselves known in the neighbourhood as good if
somewhat grimy patriots."

"We had better take up our parts at once then," said Tony. "I'll take a
fond farewell of my clean shirt to-night."

"Yes, you will not see one again for some time, my good Tony. After
your hard day's work to-morrow you will have to sleep either inside your
cart, if you have already secured one, or under the arches of the canal
bridge, if you have not."

"I hope you have an equally pleasant prospect for Hastings," was my Lord
Tony's grim comment.

It was easy to see that he was as happy as a schoolboy about to start
for a holiday. Lord Tony was a true sportsman. Perhaps there was in him
less sentiment for the heroic work which he did under the guidance of
his chief than an inherent passion for dangerous adventures. Sir Andrew
Ffoulkes, on the other hand, thought perhaps a little less of the
adventure, but a great deal of the martyred child in the Tem