o you?"

"We'll place it ready to his hand, at any rate, so that it should appear
as if he had actually taken it."

Collot looked up at his colleague in ungrudging admiration. Chauvelin
had indeed left nothing undone, had thought everything out in this
strangely conceived scheme for the destruction of the enemy of France.

"But in the name of all the dwellers in hell, Citizen," admonished
Collot, "guard that letter well, once it is in your hands."

"I'll do better than that," said Chauvelin, "I will hand it over to you,
Citizen Collot, and you shall ride with it to Paris at once."

"To-night!" assented Collot with a shout of triumph, as he brought his
grimy fist crashing down on the table, "I'll have a horse ready saddled
at this very gate, and an escort of mounted men... we'll ride like
hell's own furies and not pause to breathe until that letter is in
Citizen Robespierre's hands."

"Well thought of, Citizen," said Chauvelin approvingly. "I pray you
give the necessary orders, that the horses be ready saddled, and the
men booted and spurred, and waiting at the Gayole gate, at seven o'clock
this evening."

"I wish the letter were written and safely in our hands by now."

"Nay! the Englishman will have it ready by this evening, never fear. The
tide is high at half-past seven, and he will be in haste for his wife to
be aboard his yacht, ere the turn, even if he..."

He paused, savouring the thoughts which had suddenly flashed across his
mind, and a look of intense hatred and cruel satisfaction for a moment
chased away the studied impassiveness of his face.

"What do you mean, Citizen?" queried Collot anxiously, "even if he...
what?..."

"Oh! nothing, nothing! I was only trying to make vague guesses as to
what the Englishman will do AFTER he has written the letter," quoth
Chauvelin reflectively.

"Morbleu! he'll return to his own accursed country... glad enough to
have escaped with his skin.... I suppose," added Collot with sudden
anxiety, "you have no fear that he will refuse at the last moment to
write that letter?"

The two men were sitting in the large room, out of which opened the one
which was now occupied by Marguerite. They were talking at the further
end of it, close to the window, and though Chauvelin had mostly spoken
in a whisper, Collot had ofttimes shouted, and the ex-ambassador was
wondering how much Marguerite had heard.

Now at Collot's anxious query he gave a quick furtive glance in the
d