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taken　over　the　frontier　you　would　have　been　the　first　to　hear　of
it；　eh？　No；〃　he　added　confidently；　and　as　if　anxious　to　reassure
himself；　〃my　firm　belief　is　that　the　original　idea　of　these
confounded　Englishmen　was　to　try　and　get　the　child　over　to
England；　and　that　they　alone　know　where　he　is。　　I　tell　you　it
won't　be　many　days　before　that　very　withered　Scarlet　Pimpernel
will　order　his　followers　to　give　little　Capet　up　to　us。　　Oh！　they
are　hanging　about　Paris　some　of　them；　I　know　that；　citizen
Chauvelin　is　convinced　that　the　wife　isn't　very　far　away。　　Give
her　a　sight　of　her　husband　now；　say　I；　and　she'll　make　the　others
give　the　child　up　soon　enough。〃

The　man　laughed　like　some　hyena　gloating　over　its　prey。　　Sir
Andrew　nearly　betrayed　himself　then。　　He　had　to　dig　his　nails　into
his　own　flesh　to　prevent　himself　from　springing　then　and　there　at
the　throat　of　that　wretch　whose　monstrous　ingenuity　had　invented
torture　for　the　fallen　enemy　far　worse　than　any　that　the　cruelties
of　medieval　Inquisitions　had　devised。

So　they　would　not　let　him　sleep！　　A　simple　idea　born　in　the　brain
of　a　fiend。　　Heron　had　spoken　of　Chauvelin　as　the　originator　of
the　devilry；　a　man　weakened　deliberately　day　by　day　by　insufficient
food；　and　the　horrible　process　of　denying　him　rest。　　It　seemed
inconceivable　that　human；　sentient　beings　should　have　thought　of
such　a　thing。　　Perspiration　stood　up　in　beads　on　Sir　Andrew's　brow
when　he　thought　of　his　friend；　brought　down　by　want　of　sleep　to
what？　　His　physique　was　splendidly　powerful；　but　could　it　stand
against　such　racking　torment　for　long？　　And　the　clear；　the　alert
mind；　the　scheming　brain；　the　reckless　daringhow　soon　would　these
become　enfeebled　by　the　slow；　steady　torture　of　an　utter　want　of　rest？

Ffoulkes　had　to　smother　a　cry　of　horror；　which　surely　must　have
drawn　the　attention　of　that　fiend　on　himself　had　he　not　been　so
engrossed　in　the　enjoyment　of　his　own　devilry。　　As　it　is；　he　ran
out　of　the　stuffy　eating…house；　for　he　felt　as　if　its　fetid　air
must　choke　him。

For　an　hour　after　that　he　wandered　about　the　streets；　not　daring
to　face　Marguerite；　lest　his　eyes　betrayed　some　of　the　horror
which　was　shaking　his　very　soul。

That　was　twenty…four　hours　ago。　　To…day　he　had　learnt　little　else。
It　was　generally　known　that　the　Englishman　was　in　the　Conciergerie
prison；　that　he　was　being　closely　watched；　and　that　his　trial
would　come　on　within　the　next　few　days；　but　no　one　seemed　to　know
exactly　when。　　The　public　was　getting　restive；　demanding　that
trial　and　execution　to　which　every　one　seemed　to　look　forward　as
to　a　holiday。　　In　the　meanwhile　the　escape　of　the　Dauphin　had　been
kept　from　the　knowledge　of　the　public；　Heron　and　his　gang；　fearing
for　their　lives；　had　still　hopes　of　extracting　from　the　Englishman
the　secret　of　the　lad's　hiding…place；　and　the　means　they　employed
for　arriving　at　this　end　was　worthy　of　Lucifer　and　his　host　of
devils　in　hell。

From　other　fragments　of　conversation　which　Sir　Andrew　Ffoulkes　had
gleaned　that　same　evening；　it　seemed　to　him　that　in　order　to　hide
their　defalcations　Heron　and　the　four　commissaries　in　charge　of
little　Capet　had　substituted　a　deaf　and　dumb　child　for　the　escaped
little　prisoner。　　This　miserable　small　wreck　of　humanity　was
reputed　to　be　sick　and　kept　in　a　darkened　room；　in　bed；　and　was　in
that　condition　exhibited　to　any　member　of　the　Convention　who　had
the　right　to　see　him。　　A　partition　had　been　very　hastily　erected
in　the　inner　room　once　occupied　by　the　Simons；　and　the　child　was
kept　behind　that　partition；　and　no　one　was　allowed　to　come　too
near　to　him。　　Thus　the　fraud　was　succeeding　fairly　well。　　Heron
and　his　accomplices　only　cared　to　save　their　skins；　and　the
wretched　little　substitute　being　really　ill；　they　firmly　hoped
that　he　would　soon　die；　when　no　doubt　they　would　bruit　abroad　the
news　of　the　death　of　Capet；　which　would　relieve　them　of　further
responsibility。

That　such　ideas；　such　thoughts；　such　schemes　should　have
engendered　in　human　minds　it　is　almost　impossible　to　conceive；　and
yet　we　know　from　no　less　important　a　witness　than　Madame　Simon
herself　that　the　child　who　died　in　the　Temple　a　few　weeks　later
was　a　poor　little　imbecile；　a　deaf　and　dumb　child　brought　hither
from　one　of　the　asylums　and　left　to　die　in　peace。　　There　was
nobody　but　kindly　Death　to　take　him　out　of　his　misery；　for　the
giant　intellect　that　had　planned　and　carried　out　the　rescue　of　the
uncrowned　King　of　France；　and　which　alone　might　have　had　the　power
to　save　him　too；　was　being　broken　on　the　rack　of　enforced
sleeplessness。



CHAPTER　XXVI
THE　BITTEREST　FOE

That　same　evening　Sir　Andrew　Ffoulkes；　having　announced　his
intention　of　gleaning　further　news　of　Armand；　if　possible；　went
out　shortly　after　seven　o'clock；　promising　to　be　home　again　about
nine。

Marguerite；　on　the　other　hand；　had　to　make　her　friend　a　solemn
promise　that　she　would　try　and　eat　some　supper　which　the　landlady
of　these　miserable　apartments　had　agreed　to　prepare　for　her。　　So
far　they　had　been　left　in　peaceful　occupation　of　these　squalid
lodgings　in　a　tumble…down　house　on　the　Quai　de　la　Ferraille；
facing　the　house　of　Justice；　the　grim　walls　of　which　Marguerite
would　watch　with　wide…open　dry　eyes　for　as　long　as　the　grey　wintry
light　lingered　over　them。

Even　now；　though　the　darkness　had　set　in；　and　snow；　falling　in
close；　small　flakes；　threw　a　thick　white　veil　over　the　landscape；
she　sat　at　the　open　window　long　after　Sir　Andrew　had　gone　out；
watching　the　few　small　flicks　of　light　that　blinked　across　from
the　other　side　of　the　river；　and　which　came　from　the　windows　of
the　Chatelet　towers。　The　windows　of　the　Conciergerie　she　could　not
see；　for　these　gave　on　one　of　the　inner　courtyards；　but　there　was
a　melancholy　consolation　even　in　the　gazing　on　those　walls　that
held　in　their　cruel；　grim　embrace　all　that　she　loved　in　the　world。

It　seemed　so　impossible　to　think　of　Percythe　laughter…loving；
irresponsible；　light…hearted　adventureras　the　prey　of　those
fiends　who　would　revel　in　their　triumph；　who　would　crush　him；
humiliate　him；　insult　himye　gods　alive！　even　torture　him；
perhapsthat　they　might　break　the　indomitable　spirit　that　would
mock　them　even　on　the　threshold　of　death。

Surely；　surely　God　would　never　allow　such　monstrous　infamy　as　the
deliverance　of　the　noble　soaring　eagle　into　the　hands　of　those
preying　jackals！　　Margueritethough　her　heart　ached　beyond　what
human　nature　could　endure；　though　her　anguish　on　her　husband's
account　was　doubled　by　that　which　she　felt　for　her　brothercould
not　bring　herself　to　give　up　all　hope。　　Sir　Andrew　said　it
rightly；　while　there　was　life　there　was　hope。　　While　there　was
life　in　those　vigorous　limbs；　spirit　in　that　daring　mind；　how
could　puny；　rampant　beasts　gain　the　better　of　the　immortal　soul？
As　for　Armandwhy；　if　Percy　were　free　she　would　have　no　cause　to
fear　for　Armand。

She　sighed　a　sigh　of　deep；　of　passionate　regret　and　longing。　　If
she　could　only　see　her　husband；　if　she　could　only　look　for　one
second　into　those　laughing；　lazy　eyes；　wherein　she　alone　knew　how
to　fathom　the　infinity　of　passion　that　lay　within　their　depths；　if
she　could　but　once　feel　hisardent　kiss　on　her　lips；　she　could
more　easily　endure　this　agonising　suspense；　and　wait　confidently
and　courageously　for　the　issue。

She　turned　away　from　the　window；　for　the　night　was　getting　bitterly
cold。　　From　the　tower　of　St。　Germain　l'Auxerrois　the　clock　slowly
struck　eight。　　Even　as　the　last　sound　of　the　historic　bell　died　away
in　the　distance　she　heard　a　timid　knocking　at　the　door。

〃Enter！〃　she　called　unthinkingly。

She　thought　it　was　her　landlady；　come　up　with　more　wood；　mayhap；
for　the　fire；　so　she　did　not　turn　to　the　door　when　she　heard　it
being　slowly　opened；　then　closed　again；　and　presently　a　soft　tread
on　the　threadbare　carpet。

〃May　I　crave　your　kind　attention；　Lady　Blakeney？〃　said　a　harsh
voice；　subdued　to　tones　of　ordinary　courtesy。

She　quickly　repressed　a　cry　of　terror。　　How　well　she　knew　that
voice！　　When　last　she　heard　it　it　was　at　Boulogne；　dictating　that
infamous　letterthe　weapon　wherewith　Percy　had　so　effectually
foiled　his　enemy。　　She　turned　and　faced　the　man　who　was　her
bitterest　foehers　in　the　person　of　the　man　she　loved。

〃Chauvelin！〃　she　gasped。

〃Himself　at　your　service；　dear　lady；〃　he　said　simply。

He　stood　in　the　full　light　of　the　lamp；　his　trim；　small　figure
boldly　cut　out　against　the　dark　wall　beyond。　　He　wore　the　usual
sable…coloured　clothes　which　he　affected；　with　the　primly…folded
jabot　and　cuffs　edged　with　narrow　lace。

Without　waiting　for　permission　from　her　he　quietly　and
deliberately　placed　his　hat　and　cloak　on　a　chair。　　Then　he　turned
once　more　toward　her；　and　made　a　movement　as　if　to　advance　into
the　room；　but　instinctively　she　put　up　a　hand　as　if　to　ward　off
the　calamity　of　his　approach。

He　shrugged　his　shoulders；　and　the　shadow　of　a　smile；　that　had
neither　mirth　nor　kindliness　in　it；　hovered　round　the　corners　of
his　thin　lips。

〃Have　I　your　permission　to　sit？〃　he　asked。

〃As　you　will；〃　she　replied　slowly；　keeping　her　wide…open　eyes
fixed　upon　him　as　does　a　frightened　bird　upon　the　serpent　whom　it
loathes　and　fears。

〃And　may　I　crave　a　few　moments　of　your　undivided　attention；　Lady
Blakeney？〃　he　continued；　taking　a　chair；　and　so　placing　it　beside
the　table　that　the　light　of　the　lamp　when　he　sat　remained　behind
him　and　his　face　was　left　in　shadow。

〃Is　it　necessary？〃　asked　Marguerite。

〃It　is；〃　he　replied　curtly；　〃if　you　desire　to　see　and　speak　with
your　husbandto　be　of　use　to　him　before　it　is　too　late。〃

〃Then；　I　pray　you；　speak；　citizen；　and　I　will　listen。〃

She　sank　into　a　chair；　not　heeding　whether　the　light　of　the　lamp
fell　on　her　face　or　not；　whether　the　lines　in　her　haggard　cheeks；
or　her　tear…dimmed　eyes　showed　plainly　the　sorrow　and　despair　that
had　traced　them。　　She　had　nothing　to　hide　from　this　man；　the　cause
of　all　the　tortures　which　she　endured。　　She　knew　that　neither
courage　nor　sorrow　would　move　him；　and　that　hatred　for　Percy
personal　deadly　hatred　for　the　man　who　had　twice　foiled　him
had　long　crushed　the　last　spark　of　humanity　in　his　heart。

〃Perhaps；　Lady　Blakeney；〃　he　began　after　a　slight