than a
minute he would be reaching the spot where Chauvelin stood waiting for
Marguerite. That end of the corridor, however, received no light from
any of the lamps; strive how she might, Marguerite could see nothing now
either of Chauvelin or of Armand.

Blindly, instinctively, she ran forward, thinking only to reach Armand,
and to warn him to turn back before it was too late; before he found
himself face to face with the most bitter enemy he and his nearest and
dearest had ever had. But as she at last came to a halt at the end of
the corridor, panting with the exertion of running and the fear for
Armand, she almost fell up against Chauvelin, who was standing there
alone and imperturbable, seemingly having waited patiently for her. She
could only dimly distinguish his face, the sharp features and thin cruel
mouth, but she felt--more than she actually saw--his cold steely eyes
fixed with a strange expression of mockery upon her.

But of Armand there was no sign, and she--poor soul!--had difficulty
in not betraying the anxiety which she felt for her brother. Had the
flagstones swallowed him up? A door on the right was the only one that
gave on the corridor at this point; it led to the concierge's lodge,
and thence out into the courtyard. Had Chauvelin been dreaming, sleeping
with his eyes open, whilst he stood waiting for her, and had Armand
succeeded in slipping past him under cover of the darkness and through
that door to safety that lay beyond these prison walls?

Marguerite, miserably agitated, not knowing what to think, looked
somewhat wild-eyed on Chauvelin; he smiled, that inscrutable, mirthless
smile of his, and said blandly:

"Is there aught else that I can do for you, citizeness? This is your
nearest way out. No doubt Sir Andrew will be waiting to escort you
home."

Then as she--not daring either to reply or to question--walked straight
up to the door, he hurried forward, prepared to open it for her. But
before he did so he turned to her once again:

"I trust that your visit has pleased you, Lady Blakeney," he said
suavely. "At what hour do you desire to repeat it to-morrow?"

"To-morrow?" she reiterated in a vague, absent manner, for she was still
dazed with the strange incident of Armand's appearance and his flight.

"Yes. You would like to see Sir Percy again to-morrow, would you not? I
myself would gladly pay him a visit from time to time, but he does not
care for my company. My colleague, citizen