She did not know how long she was thus carried along, she had lost all notion of time and space, and for a few seconds tired nature, mercifully, deprived her of consciousness.
When she once more realised her state, she felt that she was placed with some degree of comfort upon a man's coat, with her back resting against a fragment of rock. The moon was hidden again behind some clouds, and the darkness seemed in comparison more intense. The sea was roaring some two hundred feet below her, and on looking all round she could no longer see any vestige of the tiny glimmer of red light.
That the end of the journey had been reached, she gathered from the fact that she heard rapid questions and answers spoken in a whisper quite close to her.
“There are four men in there, citoyen; they are sitting by the fire, and seem to be waiting quietly.”
“The hour?”
“Nearly two o'clock.”
“The tide?”
“Coming in quickly.”
“The schooner?”
“Obviously an English one, lying some three kilometres out. But we cannot see her boat.”
“Have the men taken cover?”
“Yes, citoyen.”
“They will not blunder?”
“They will not stir until the tall Englishman comes, then they will surround and overpower the five men.”
“Right. And the lady?”
“Still dazed, I fancy. She's close beside you, citoyen.”
“And the Jew?”
“He's gagged, and his legs strapped together. He cannot move or scream.”
“Good. Then have your gun ready, in case you want it. Get close to the hut and leave me to look after the lady.”
Desgas evidently obeyed, for Marguerite heard him creeping away along the stony cliff, then she felt that a pair of warm, thin, talon-like hands took hold of both her own, and held them in a grip of steel.
“Before that handkerchief is removed from your pretty mouth, fair lady,”
whispered Chauvelin close to her ear, “I think it right to give you one
small word of warning. What has procured me the honour of being followed
across the Channel by so charming a companion, I cannot, of course,
conceive, but, if I mistake not, the purpose of this flattering
attention is not one that would commend itself to my vanity, and I think
that I am right in surmising, moreover, that the first sound which your
pretty lips would utter, as soon as the cruel gag is removed, would be
one that would perhaps prove a warning to the cunning fox, which I have been at
such pains to track to his lair.”
He paused a moment, while the steel-like grasp seemed to tighten round her wrist; then he resumed in the same hurried whisper:—
“Inside that hut, if again I am not mistaken, your brother, Armand St. Just, waits with that traitor de Tournay, and two other men unknown to you, for the arrival of the mysterious rescuer, whose identity has for so long puzzled our Committee of Public Safety—the audacious Scarlet Pimpernel. No doubt if you scream, if there is a scuffle here, if shots are fired, it is more than likely that the same long legs that brought this scarlet enigma here, will as quickly take him to some place of safety. The purpose then, for which I have travelled all these miles, will remain unaccomplished. On the other hand it only rests with yourself that your brother—Armand—shall be free to go off with you to-night if you like, to England, or any other place of safety.”
Marguerite could not utter a sound, as the handkerchief was wound very tightly round her mouth, but Chauvelin was peering through the darkness very closely into her face; no doubt too her hand gave a responsive appeal to his last suggestion, for presently he continued:—
“What I want you to do to ensure Armand's safety is a very simple thing, dear lady.”
“What is it?” Marguerite's hand seemed to convey to his, in response.
“To remain—on this spot, without uttering a sound, until I give you leave to speak. Ah! but I think you will obey,” he added, with that funny dry chuckle of his as Marguerite's whole figure seemed to stiffen, in defiance of this order, “for let me tell you that if you scream, nay! if you utter one sound, or attempt to move from here, my men—there are thirty o............