head defiantly, and quietly
walked up to the table, where Chauvelin seemed once more absorbed in the
perusal of his papers.

"Is this interview over?" she asked quietly, and without the slightest
tremor in her voice. "May I go now?"

"As soon as you wish," he replied with gentle irony.

He regarded her with obvious delight, for truly she was beautiful: grand
in this attitude of defiant despair. The man, who had spent the last
half-hour in martyrizing her, gloried over the misery which he had
wrought, and which all her strength of will could not entirely banish
from her face.

"Will you believe me, Lady Blakeney?" he added, "that there is no
personal animosity in my heart towards you or your husband? Have I not
told you that I do not wish to compass his death?"

"Yet you propose to send him to the guillotine as soon as you have laid
hands on him."

"I have explained to you the measures which I have taken in order to
make sure that we DO lay hands on the Scarlet Pimpernel. Once he is in
our power, it will rest with him to walk to the guillotine or to embark
with you on board his yacht."

"You propose to place an alternative before Sir Percy Blakeney?"

"Certainly."

"To offer him his life?"

"And that of his charming wife."

"In exchange for what?"

"His honour."

"He will refuse, Monsieur."

"We shall see."

Then he touched a handbell which stood on the table, and within a few
seconds the door was opened and the soldier who had led Marguerite
hither, re-entered the room.

The interview was at an end. It had served its purpose. Marguerite knew
now that she must not even think of escape for herself, or hope for
safety for the man she loved. Of Chauvelin's talk of a bargain which
would touch Percy's honour she would not even think: and she was too
proud to ask anything further from him.

Chauvelin stood up and made her a deep bow, as she crossed the room and
finally went out of the door. The little company of soldiers closed in
around her and she was once more led along the dark passages, back to
her own prison cell.

Chapter XXIV: Colleagues

As soon as the door had closed behind Marguerite, there came from
somewhere in the room the sound of a yawn, a grunt and a volley of
oaths.

The flickering light of the tallow candles had failed to penetrate into
all the corners, and now from out one of these dark depths, a certain
something began to detach itself, and to move forward towards the