Three minutes more, citizen," was the curt reply.

"Three minutes, you devils," murmured Blakeney between set teeth, whilst
a sudden light which even Marguerite's keen gaze failed to interpret
leapt into his eyes. Then he pressed the third letter into her hand.

Once more his close, intent gaze compelled hers; their faces were close
one to the other, so near to him did he draw her, so tightly did he
hold her to him. The paper was in her hand and his fingers were pressed
firmly on hers.

"Put this in your kerchief, my beloved," he whispered. "Let it rest on
your exquisite bosom where I so love to pillow my head. Keep it there
until the last hour when it seems to you that nothing more can come
between me and shame.... Hush-sh-sh, dear," he added with passionate
tenderness, checking the hot protest that at the word "shame" had sprung
to her lips, "I cannot explain more fully now. I do not know what may
happen. I am only a man, and who knows what subtle devilry those brutes
might not devise for bringing the untamed adventurer to his knees. For
the next ten days the Dauphin will be on the high roads of France, on
his way to safety. Every stage of his journey will be known to me. I can
from between these four walls follow him and his escort step by step.
Well, dear, I am but a man, already brought to shameful weakness by mere
physical discomfort--the want of sleep--such a trifle after all; but
in case my reason tottered--God knows what I might do--then give this
packet to Ffoulkes--it contains my final instructions--and he will know
how to act. Promise me, dear heart, that you will not open the packet
unless--unless mine own dishonour seems to you imminent--unless I have
yielded to these brutes in this prison, and sent Ffoulkes or one of the
others orders to exchange the Dauphin's life for mine; then, when mine
own handwriting hath proclaimed me a coward, then and then only, give
this packet to Ffoulkes. Promise me that, and also that when you and
he have mastered its contents you will act exactly as I have commanded.
Promise me that, dear, in your own sweet name, which may God bless, and
in that of Ffoulkes, our loyal friend."

Through the sobs that well-nigh choked her she murmured the promise he
desired.

His voice had grown hoarser and more spent with the inevitable reaction
after the long and sustained effort, but the vigour of the spirit was
untouched, the fervour, the enthusiasm.

"Dear heart," he murmured, "do n