CHAPTER IV
THE NET
I
It was not an easy thing to obtain an audience of the great proconsul atthis hour of the night, nor was Chauvelin, the disgraced servant of theCommittee of Public Safety, a man to be considered. Carrier, with hislove of ostentation and of tyranny, found great delight in keeping hiscolleagues waiting upon his pleasure, and he knew that he could trustyoung Jacques Lalouet to be as insolent as any tyrant's flunkey of yore.
"I must speak with the proconsul at once," had been Chauvelin's urgentrequest of Fleury, the commandant of the great man's bodyguard.
"The proconsul dines at this hour," had been Fleury's curt reply.
"'Tis a matter which concerns the welfare and the safety of the State!"
"The proconsul's health is the concern of the State too, and he dines atthis hour and must not be disturbed."
"Commandant Fleury!" urged Chauvelin, "you risk being implicated in adisaster. Danger and disgrace threaten the proconsul and all hisadherents. I must speak with citizen Carrier at once."
Fortunately for Chauvelin there were two keys which, when all elsefailed, were apt to open the doors of Carrier's stronghold: the key offear and that of cupidity. He tried both and succeeded. He bribed andhe threatened: he endured Fleury's brutality and Lalouet's impertinencebut he got his way. After an hour's weary waiting and ceaselessparleyings he was once more ushered into the antechamber where he hadsat earlier in the day. The doors leading to the inner sanctuary wereopen. Young Jacques Lalouet stood by them on guard. Carrier, fuming andraging at having been disturbed, vented his spleen and ill-temper onChauvelin.
"If the news that you bring me is not worth my consideration," he criedsavagely, "I'll send you to moulder in Le Bouffay or to drink the watersof the Loire."
Chauvelin silent, self-effaced, allowed the flood of the great man'swrath to spend itself in threats. Then he said quietly:
"Citizen proconsul I have come to tell you that the English spy, who iscalled the Scarlet Pimpernel, is now in Nantes. There is a reward oftwenty thousand francs for his capture and I want your help to lay himby the heels."
Carrier suddenly paused in his ravings. He sank into a chair and a lividhue spread over his face.
"It's not true!" he murmured hoarsely.
"I saw him--not an hour ago...."
"What proof have you?"
"I'll show them to you--but not across this threshold. Let me enter,citizen proconsul, and close your sanctuary doors behind me rather thanbefore. What I have come hither to tell you, can only be said betweenfour walls."
"I'll make you tell me," broke in Carrier in a raucous voice, whichexcitement and fear caused almost to choke in his throat. "I'll make you... curse you for the traitor that you are.... Curse you!" he cried morevigorously, "I'll make you speak. Will you shield a spy by yoursilence, you miserable traitor? If you do I'll send you to rot in themud of the Loire with other traitors less accursed than yourself."
"If you only knew," was Chauvelin's calm rejoinder to the other'sravings, "how little I care for life. I only live to be even one daywith an enemy whom I hate. That enemy is now in Nantes, but I am like abird of prey whose wings have been clipped. If you do not help me mineenemy will again go free--and death in that case matters little ornothing to me."
For a moment longer Carrier hesitated. Fear had gripped him by thethroat. Chauvelin's earnestness seemed to vouch for the truth of hisassertion, and if this were so--if those English spies were indeed inNantes--then his own life was in deadly danger. He--like every one ofthose bloodthirsty tyrants who had misused the sacred names ofFraternity and of Equality--had learned to dread the machinations ofthose mysterious Englishmen and of their unconquerable leader. Popularsuperstition had it that they were spies of the English Government andthat they were not only bent on saving traitors from well-meritedpunishment but that they were hired assassins paid by Mr. Pitt to murderevery faithful servant of the Republic. The name of the ScarletPimpernel, so significantly uttered by Chauvelin, had turned Carrier'ssallow cheeks to a livid hue. Sick with terror now he called Lalouet tohim. He clung to the boy with both arms as to the one being in thisworld whom he trusted.
"What shall we do, Jacques?" he murmured hoarsely, "shall we let himin?"
The boy roughly shook himself free from the embrace of the greatproconsul.
"If you want twenty thousand francs," he said with a dry laugh, "Ishould listen quietly to what citizen Chauvelin has to say."
Terror and rapacity were ranged on one side against inordinate vanity.The thought of twenty thousand francs made Carrier's ugly mouth water.Money was ever scarce these days: also the fear of assassination was aspectre which haunted him at all hours of the day and night. On theother hand he positively worshipped the mystery wherewith he surroundedhimself. It had been his boast for some time now that no one save thechosen few had crossed the threshold of his private chamber: and he wasmiserably afraid not only of Chauvelin's possible evil intentions, butalso that this despicable ex-aristo and equally despicable failure wouldboast in the future of an ascendancy over him.
He thought the matter over for fully five minutes, during which therewas dead silence in the two rooms--silence only broken by the stertorousbreathing of that wretched coward, and the measured ticking of the fineBuhl clock behind him. Chauvelin's pale eyes were fixed upon thedarkness, through which he could vaguely discern the uncouth figure ofthe proconsul, sprawling over his desk. Which way would his passionssway him? Chauvelin as he watched and waited felt that his habitualself-control was perhaps more severely taxed at this moment than it hadever been before. Upon the swaying of those passions, the passions of aman infinitely craven and infinitely base, depended allhis--Chauvelin's--hopes of getting even at last with a daring andresourceful foe. Terror and rapacity were the counsellors which rangedthemselves on the side of his schemes, but mere vanity and capricefought a hard battle too.
In the end it was rapacity that gained the victory. An impatientexclamation from young Lalouet roused Carrier from his sombre broodingand hastened on a decision which was destined to have such momentousconsequences for the future of both these men.
"Introduce citizen Chauvelin in here, Lalouet," said the proconsulgrudgingly. "I will listen to what he has to say."
II
Chauvelin crossed the threshold of the tyrant's sanctuary, in no wayawed by the majesty of that dreaded presence or confused by the air ofmystery which hung about the room.
He did not even bestow a glance on the multitudinous objects of art andthe priceless furniture which littered the tiger's lair. His pale faceremained quite expressionless as he bowed solemnly before Carrier andthen took the chair which was indicated to him. Young Lalouet fetched acandelabra from the ante-room and carried it into the audience chamber:then he closed the communicating doors. The candelabra he placed on aconsole-table immediately behind Carrier's desk and chair, so that thelatter's face remained in complete shadow, whilst the light fell fullupon Chauvelin.
"Well! what is it?" queried the proconsul roughly. "What is this storyof English spies inside Nantes? How did they get here? Who isresponsible for keeping such rabble out of our city? Name of a dog, butsome one has been careless of duty! and carelessness these days isclosely allied to treason."
He talked loudly and volubly--his inordinate terror causing the words tocome tumbling, almost incoherently, out of his mouth. Finally he turnedon Chauvelin with a snarl like an angry cat:
"And how comes it, citizen," he added savagely, "that you alone here inNantes are acquainted with the whereabouts of those dangerous spies?"
"I caught sight of them," rejoined Chauvelin calmly, "this afternoonafter I left you. I knew we should have them here, the moment citizenMartin-Roget brought the Kernogans into the city. The woman is the wifeof one of them."
"Curse that blundering fool Martin-Roget for bringing that rabble aboutour ears, and those assassins inside our gates."
"Nay! Why should you complain, citizen proconsul,"
rejoined Chauvelin inhis blandest manner. "Surely you are not going to let the English spiesescape this time? And if you succeed in laying them by the heels--therewhere every one else has failed--you will have earned twenty thousandfrancs and the thanks of the entire Committee of Public Safety."
He paused: and young Lalouet interposed with his impudent laugh:
"Go on, citizen Chauvelin," he said, "if there is twenty thousand francsto be made out of this game, I'll warrant that the proconsul will take ahand in it--eh, Carrier?"
And with the insolent familiarity of a terrier teasing a grizzly hetweaked the great man's ear.
Chauvelin in the meanwhile had drawn the packet of papers from hispocket and untied the ribbon that held them together. He now spread thepapers out on the desk.
"What are these?" queried Carrier.
"A few papers," replied Chauvelin, "which one of your Marats, PaulFriche by name, picked up in the wake of the Englishmen. I caught sightof them in the far distance, and sent the Marats after them. For awhilePaul Friche kept on their track, but after that they disappeared in thedarkness."
"Who were the senseless louts," growled Carrier, "who allowed a pack offoreign assassins to escape? I'll soon make them disappear ... in theLoire."
"You will do what you like about that, citizen Carrier," retortedChauvelin drily; "in the meanwhile you would do well to examine thesepapers."
He sorted these out, examined them one by one, then passed them acrossto Carrier. Lalouet, impudent and inquisitive, sat on the corner of thedesk, dangling his legs. With scant ceremony he snatched one paper afteranother out of Carrier's hands and examined them curiously.
"Can you understand all this gibberish?" he asked airily. "JeanBaptiste, my friend, how much English do you know?"
"Not much," replied the proconsul, "but enough to recognise thatabominable doggrel rhyme which has gone the round of the Committees ofPublic Safety throughout the country."
"I know it by heart," rejoined young Lalouet. "I was in Paris once, whencitizen Robespierre received a copy of it. Name of a dog!" added theyoungster with a coarse laugh, "how he cursed!"
It is doubtful however if citizen Robespierre did on that occasion cursequite so volubly as Carrier did now.
"If I only knew why that _satane_ Englishman throws so much calligraphyabout," he said, "I would be easier in my mind. Now this senseless rhyme... I don't see...."
"Its importance?" broke in Chauvelin quietly. "I dare say not. On theface of it, it appears foolish and childish: but it is intended as ataunt and is really a poor attempt at humour. They are a queer peoplethese English. If you knew them as I do, you would not be surprised tosee a man scribbling off a cheap joke before embarking on an enterprisewhich may cost him his head."
"And this inane rubbish is of that sort," concluded young Lalouet. Andin his thin high treble he began reciting:
"We seek him here; We seek him there! Those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is he in heaven? Is he in h----ll? That demmed elusive Pimpernel?"
"Pointless and offensive," he said as he tossed the paper back on thetable.
"A cursed aristo that Englishman of yours," growled Carrier. "Oh! when Iget him...."
He made an expressive gesture which made Lalouet laugh.
"What else have we got in the way of documents, citizen Chauvelin?" heasked.
"There is a letter," replied the latter.
"Read it," commanded Carrier. "Or rather translate it as you read. Idon't understand the whole of the gibberish."
And Chauvelin, taking up a sheet of paper which was covered with neat,minute writing, began to read aloud, translating the English into Frenchas he went along:
"'Here we are at last, my dear Tony! Didn't I tell you that we can get in anywhere despite all precautions taken against us!'"
"The impudent devils!" broke in Carrier.
--"'Did you really think that they could keep us out of Nantes while Lady Anthony Dewhurst is a prisoner in their hands?'"
"Who is that?"
"The Kernogan woman. As I told you just now, she is married to anEnglishman who is named Dewhurst and who is one of the members of thatthrice cursed League."
Then he continued to read:
"'And did you really suppose that they would spot half a dozen English gentlemen in the guise of peat-gatherers, returning at dusk and covered with grime from their work? Not like, friend Tony! Not like! If you happen to meet mine engaging friend M. Chambertin before I have that privilege myself, tell him I pray you, with my regards, that I am looking forward to the pleasure of making a long nose at him once more. Calais, Boulogne, Paris--now Nantes--the scenes of his triumphs multiply exceedingly.'"
"What in the devil's name does all this mean?" queried Carrier with anoath.
"You don't understand it?" rejoined Chauvelin quietly.
"No. I do not."
"Yet I translated quite clearly."
"It is not the language that puzzles me. The contents seem to me suchdrivel. The man wants secrecy, what? He is supposed to be astute,resourceful, above all mysterious and enigmatic. Yet he writes to hisfriend--matter of no importance between them, recollections of the past,known to them both--and threats for the future, equally futile andsenseless. I cannot reconcile it all. It puzzles me."
"And it would puzzle me," rejoined Chauvelin, while the ghost of a smilecurled his thin lips, "did I not know the man. Futile? Senseless, yousay? Well, he does futile and senseless things one moment and amazingdeeds of personal bravery and of astuteness the next. He is three partsa braggart too. He wanted you, me--all of us to know how he and hisfollowers succeeded in eluding our vigilance and entered ourclosely-guarded city in the guise of grimy peat-gatherers. Now I come tothink of it, it was easy enough for them to do that. Thosepeat-gatherers who live inside the city boundaries return from theirwork as the night falls in. Those cursed English adventurers are passingclever at disguise--they are born mountebanks the lot of them. Money andimpudence they have in plenty. They could easily borrow or purchase somefilthy rags from the cottages on the dunes, then mix with the crowd onits return to the city. I dare say it was cleverly done. That ScarletPimpernel is just a clever adventurer and nothing more. So far hismarvellous good luck has carried him through. Now we shall see."
Carrier had listened in silence. Something of his colleague's calm hadby this time communicated itself to him too. He was no longer ravinglike an infuriated bull--his terror no longer made a half-cringing,wholly savage brute of him. He was sprawling across the desk--his armsfolded, his deep-set eyes studying closely the well-nigh inscrutableface of Chauvelin. Young Lalouet too had lost something of hisimpudence. That mysterious spell which seemed to emanate from theelusive personality of the bold English adventurer had been cast overthese two callous, bestial natures, humbling their arrogance and makingthem feel that here was no ordinary situation to be dealt with bysmashing, senseless hitting and the spilling of innocent blood. Bothfelt instinctively too that this man Chauvelin, however wholly he mayhave failed in the past, was nevertheless still the only man who mightgrapple successfully with the elusive and adventurous foe.
"Are you assuming, citizen Chauvelin," queried Carrier after awhile,"that this packet of papers was dropped purposely by the Englishman, sothat it might get into our hands?"
"There is always such a possibility," replied Chauvelin drily. "Withthat type of man one must be prepared to meet the unexpected."
"Then go on, citizen Chauvelin. What else is there among those _satane_papers?"
"Nothing further of importance. There is a map of Nantes, and one of thecoast and of Le Croisic. There is a cutting from _Le Moniteur_ datedlast September, and one from the _London Gazette_ dated three years ago.The _Moniteur_ makes reference to the production of _Athalie_ at theTheatre Moliere, and the _London Gazette_ to the sale of fat cattle atan Agricultural Show. There is a receipted account from a London tailorfor two hundred pounds worth of clothes s
upplied, and one from a Lyonsmercer for an hundred francs worth of silk cravats. Then there is theone letter which alone amidst all this rubbish appears to be of anyconsequence...."
He took up the last paper; his hand was still quite steady.
"Read the letter," said Carrier.
"It is addressed in the English fashion to Lady Anthony Dewhurst,"continued Chauvelin slowly, "the Kernogan woman, you know, citizen. Itsays:
"'Keep up your courage. Your friends are inside the city and on the watch. Try the door of your prison every evening at one hour before midnight. Once you will find it yield. Slip out and creep noiselessly down the stairs. At the bottom a friendly hand will be stretched out to you. Take it with confidence--it will lead you to safety and to freedom. Courage and secrecy.'"
Lalouet had been looking over his shoulder while he read: now he pointedto the bottom of the letter.
"And there is the device," he said, "we have heard so much about oflate--a five-petalled flower drawn in red ink ... the Scarlet Pimpernel,I presume."
"Aye! the Scarlet Pimpernel," murmured Chauvelin, "as you say!Braggadocio on his part or accident, his letters are certainly in ourhands now and will prove--must prove, the tool whereby we can be evenwith him once and for all."
"And you, citizen Chauvelin," interposed Carrier with a sneer, "aremighty lucky to have me to help you this time. I am not going to befooled, as Candeille and you were fooled last September, as you werefooled in Calais and Heron in Paris. I shall be seeing this time to thecapture of those English adventurers."
"And that capture should not be difficult," added Lalouet with acomplacent laugh. "Your famous adventurer's luck hath deserted him thistime: an all-powerful proconsul is pitted against him and the loss ofhis papers hath destroyed the anonymity on which he reckons."
Chauvelin paid no heed to the fatuous remarks.
How little did this flippant young braggart and this coarse-grainedbully understand the subtle workings of that same adventurer's brain! Hehimself--one of the most astute men of the day--found it difficult. Evennow--the losing of those letters in the open streets of Nantes--it waspart of a plan. Chauvelin could have staked his head on that--a part ofa plan for the liberation of Lady Anthony Dewhurst--but what plan?--whatplan?
He took up the letter which his colleague had thrown down: he fingeredit, handled it, letting the paper crackle through his fingers, as if heexpected it to yield up the secret which it contained. The time hadcome--of that he felt no doubt--when he could at last be even with hisenemy. He had endured more bitter humiliation at the hands of thiselusive Pimpernel than he would have thought himself capable of bearinga couple of years ago. But the time had come at last--if only he kepthis every faculty on the alert, if Fate helped him and his own nervesstood the strain. Above all if this blundering, self-satisfied Carriercould be reckoned on!...
There lay the one great source of trouble! He--Chauvelin--had no power:he was disgraced--a failure--a nonentity to be sneered at. He mightprotest, entreat, wring his hands, weep tears of blood and not one manwould stir a finger to help him: this brute who sprawled here across hisdesk would not lend him half a dozen men to enable him to lay by theheels the most powerful enemy the Government of the Terror had everknown. Chauvelin inwardly ground his teeth with rage at his ownimpotence, at his own dependence on this clumsy lout, who was at thismoment possessed of powers which he himself would give half his life toobtain.
But on the other hand he did possess a power which no one could takefrom him--the power to use others for the furtherance of his ownaims--to efface himself while others danced as puppets to his piping.Carrier had the power: he had spies, Marats, prison-guards at hisdisposal. He was greedy for the reward, and cupidity and fear would makeof him a willing instrument. All that Chauvelin need do was to use thatinstrument for his own ends. One would be the head to direct, theother--a mere insentient tool.
From this moment onwards every minute, every second and every fractionof a second would be full of portent, full of possibilities. Sir PercyBlakeney was in Nantes with at least three or four members of hisLeague: he was at this very moment taxing every fibre of hisresourceful brain in order to devise a means whereby he could rescuehis friend's wife from the fate which was awaiting her: to gain this endhe would dare everything, risk everything--risk and dare a great dealmore than he had ever dared and risked before.
Chauvelin was finding a grim pleasure in reviewing the situation, inenvisaging the danger of failure which he knew lay in wait for him,unless he too was able to call to his aid all the astuteness, all thedaring, all the resource of his own fertile brain. He studied hiscolleague's face keenly--that sullen, savage expression in it, thearrogance, the blundering vanity. It was terrible to have to humour andfawn to a creature of that stamp when all one's hopes, all one's future,one's ideals and the welfare of one's country were at stake.
But this additional difficulty only served to whet the man's appetitefor action. He drew in a long breath of delight, like a captive whofirst after many days and months of weary anguish scents freedom andozone. He straightened out his shoulders. A gleam of triumph and of hopeshot out of his keen pale eyes. He studied Carrier and he studiedLalouet and he felt that he could master them both--quietly,diplomatically, with subtle skill that would not alarm the proconsul'srampant self-esteem: and whilst this coarse-fibred brute gloated inanticipatory pleasure over the handling of a few thousand francs, andwhilst Martin-Roget dreamed of a clumsy revenge against one woman andone man who had wronged him four years ago, he--Chauvelin--would pursuehis work of striking at the enemy of the Revolution--of bringing to hisknees the man who spent life and fortune in combating its ideals and infrustrating its aims. The destruction of such a foe was worthy apatriot's ambition.
On the other hand some of Carrier's bullying arrogance had gone. He wasterrified to the very depths of his cowardly heart, and for once he wasturning away from his favourite Jacques Lalouet and inclined to lean onChauvelin for advice. Robespierre had been known to tremble at sight ofthat small scarlet device, how much more had he--Carrier--cause to beafraid. He knew his own limitations and he was terrified of theassassin's dagger. As Marat had perished, so he too might end his days,and the English spies were credited with murderous intentions andsuperhuman power. In his innermost self Carrier knew that despitecountless failures Chauvelin was mentally his superior, and though henever would own to this and at this moment did not attempt to shed hisover-bearing manner, he was watching the other keenly and anxiously,ready to follow the guidance of an intellect stronger than his own.
III
At last Carrier elected to speak.
"And now, citizen Chauvelin," he said, "we know how we stand. We knowthat the English assassins are in Nantes. The question is how are wegoing to lay them by the heels."
Chauvelin gave him no direct reply. He was busy collecting his preciouspapers together and thrusting them back into the pocket of his coat.Then he said quietly:
"It is through the Kernogan woman that we can get hold of him."
"How?"
"Where she is, there will the Englishmen be. They are in Nantes for thesole purpose of getting the woman and her father out of yourclutches...."
"Then it will be a fine haul inside the Rat Mort," ejaculated Carrierwith a chuckle. "Eh, Jacques, you young scamp? You and I must go and seethat, what? You have been complaining that life was getting monotonous.Drownages--Republican marriages! They have all palled in their turn onyour jaded appetite.... But the capture of the English assassins, eh?...of that League of the Scarlet Pimpernel which has even caused citizenRobespierre much uneasiness--that will stir up your sluggish blood, youlazy young vermin!... Go on, go on, citizen Chauvelin, I am vastlyinterested!"
He rubbed his dry, bony hands together and cackled with glee. Chauvelininterposed quietly:
"Inside the Rat Mort, eh, citizen?" he queried.
"Why, yes. Citizen Martin-Roget means to convey the Kernogan woman tothe Rat Mort, doesn't he?" r />
"He does."
"And you say that where the Kernogan woman is there the Englishmen willbe...."
"The inference is obvious."
"Which means ten thousand francs from that fool Martin-Roget for havingthe wench and her father arrested inside the Rat Mort! and twentythousand for the capture of the English spies.... Have you forgotten,citizen Chauvelin," he added with a raucous cry of triumph, "thatcommandant Fleury has my orders to make a raid on the Rat Mort thisnight with half a company of my Marats, and to arrest every one whomthey find inside?"
"The Kernogan wench is not at the Rat Mort yet," quoth Chauvelin drily,"and you have refused to lend a hand in having her conveyed thither."
"I can't do it, my little Chauvelin," rejoined Carrier, somewhat soberedby this reminder. "I can't do it ... you understand ... my Maratstaking an aristo to a house of ill-fame where presently I have herarrested ... it won't do ... it won't do ... you don't know how I amspied upon just now.... It really would not do.... I can't be mixed upin that part of the affair. The wench must go to the Rat Mort of her ownfree will, or the whole plan falls to the ground.... That foolMartin-Roget must think of a way ... it's his affair, after all. He mustsee to it.... Or you can think of a way," he added, assuming the coaxingways of a tiger-cat; "you are so clever, my little Chauvelin."
"Yes," replied Chauvelin quietly, "I can think of a way. The Kernoganwench shall leave the house of citizeness Adet and walk into the tavernof the Rat Mort of her own free will. Your reputation, citizen Carrier,"he added without the slightest apparent trace of a sneer, "yourreputation shall be safeguarded in this matter. But supposing that inthe interval of going from the one house to the other the Englishadventurer succeeds in kidnapping her...."
"Pah! is that likely?" quoth Carrier with a shrug of the shoulders.
"Exceedingly likely, citizen; and you would not doubt it if you knewthis Scarlet Pimpernel as I do. I have seen him at his nefarious work. Iknow what he can do. There is nothing that he would not venture ...there are few ventures in which he does not succeed. He is as strong asan ox, as agile as a cat. He can see in the dark and he can alwaysvanish in a crowd. Here, there and everywhere, you never know where hewill appear. He is a past master in the art of disguise and he is a bornmountebank. Believe me, citizen, we shall want all the resources of ourjoint intellects to frustrate the machinations of such a foe."
Carrier mused for a moment in silence.
"H'm!" he said after awhile, and with a sardonic laugh. "You may beright, citizen Chauvelin. You have had experience with the rascal ...you ought to know him. We won't leave anything to chance--don't beafraid of that. My Marats will be keen on the capture. We'll promisecommandant Fleury a thousand francs for himself and another thousand tobe distributed among his men if we lay hands on the English assassinsto-night. We'll leave nothing to chance," he reiterated with an oath.
"In which case, citizen Carrier, you must on your side agree to twothings," rejoined Chauvelin firmly.
"What are they?"
"You must order Commandant Fleury to place himself and half a company ofhis Marats at my disposal."
"What else?"
"You must allow them to lend a hand if there is an attempt to kidnap theKernogan wench while she is being conveyed to the Rat Mort...."
Carrier hesitated for a second or two, but only for form's sake: it washis nature whenever he was forced to yield to do so grudgingly.
"Very well!" he said at last. "I'll order Fleury to be on the watch andto interfere if there is any street-brawling outside or near the RatMort. Will that suit you?"
"Perfectly. I shall be on the watch too--somewhere close by.... I'llwarn commandant Fleury if I suspect that the English are making readyfor a coup outside the tavern. Personally I think it unlikely--becausethe duc de Kernogan will be inside the Rat Mort all the time, and he toowill be the object of the Englishmen's attacks on his behalf. CitizenMartin-Roget too has about a score or so of his friends posted outsidehis sister's house: they are lads from his village who hate theKernogans as much as he does himself. Still! I shall feel easier in mymind now that I am certain of commandant Fleury's co-operation."
"Then it seems to me that we have arranged everything satisfactorily,what?"
"Everything, except the exact moment when Commandant Fleury shalladvance with his men to the door of the tavern and demand admittance inthe name of the Republic."
"Yes, he will have to make quite sure that the whole of our quarry isinside the net, eh?... before he draws the strings ... or all our prettyplans fall to nought."
"As you say," rejoined Chauvelin, "we must make sure. Supposingtherefore that we get the wench safely into the tavern, that we have herthere with her father, what we shall want will be some one inobservation--some one who can help us to draw our birds into the snarejust when we are ready for them. Now there is a man whom I have in mymind: he hath name Paul Friche and is one of your Marats--a surly,ill-conditioned giant ... he was on guard outside Le Bouffay thisafternoon.... I spoke to him ... he would suit our purpose admirably."
"What do you want him to do?"
"Only to make himself look as like a Nantese cut-throat as he can...."
"He looks like one already," broke in Jacques Lalouet with a laugh.
"So much the better. He'll excite no suspicion in that case in the mindsof the frequenters of the Rat Mort. Then I'll instruct him to start abrawl--a fracas--soon after the arrival of the Kernogan wench. The rowwill inevitably draw the English adventurers hot-haste to the spot,either in the hope of getting the Kernogans away during the _melee_ orwith a view to protecting them. As soon as they have appeared upon thescene, the half company of the Marats will descend on the house andarrest every one inside it."
"It all sounds remarkably simple," rejoined Carrier, and with a leer ofsatisfaction he turned to Jacques Lalouet.
"What think you of it, citizen?" he asked.
"That it sounds so remarkably simple," replied young Lalouet, "thatpersonally I should be half afraid...."
"Of what?" queried Chauvelin blandly.
"If you fail, citizen Chauvelin...."
"Impossible!"
"If the Englishmen do not appear?"
"Even so the citizen proconsul will have lost nothing. He will merelyhave failed to gain the twenty thousand francs. But the Kernogans willstill be in his power and citizen Martin-Roget's ten thousand francs arein any case assured."
"Friend Jean-Baptiste," concluded Lalouet with his habitual insolentfamiliarity, "you had better do what citizen Chauvelin wants. Tenthousand francs are good ... and thirty better still. Our privy pursehas been empty far too long, and I for one would like the handling of afew brisk notes."
"It will only be twenty-eight, citizen Lalouet," interposed Chauvelinblandly, "for commandant Fleury will want one thousand francs and hismen another thousand to stimulate their zeal. Still! I imagine thatthese hard times twenty-eight thousand francs are worth fighting for."
"You seem to be fighting and planning and scheming for nothing, citizenChauvelin," retorted young Lalouet with a sneer. "What are you going togain, I should like to know, by the capture of that dare-devilEnglishman?"
"Oh!" replied Chauvelin suavely, "I shall gain the citizen proconsul'sregard, I hope--and yours too, citizen Lalouet. I want nothing moreexcept the success of my plan."
Young Lalouet jumped down to his feet. He shrugged his shoulders andthrough his fine eyes shot a glance of mockery and scorn on the thin,shrunken figure of the Terrorist.
"How you do hate that Englishman, citizen Chauvelin," he said with alight laugh.
IV
Carrier having fully realised that he in any case stood to make a vastsum of money out of the capture of the band of English spies, gave hissupport generously to Chauvelin's scheme. Fleury, summoned into hispresence, was ordered to place himself and half a company of Marats atthe disposal of citizen Chauvelin. He demurred and growled like a bearwith a sore head at being placed under the orders of a civilian, but itwas
not easy to run counter to the proconsul's will. A good deal ofswearing, one or two overt threats and the citizen commandant wasreduced to submission. The promise of a thousand francs, when the rewardfor the capture of the English spies was paid out by a gratefulGovernment, overcame his last objections.
"I think you should rid yourself of that obstinate oaf," was youngLalouet's cynical comment, when Fleury had finally left the audiencechamber; "he is too argumentative for my taste."
Chauvelin smiled quietly to himself. He cared little what became ofevery one of these Nantese louts once his great object had beenattained.
"I need not trouble you further, citizen Carrier," he said as he finallyrose to take his leave. "I shall have my hands full until I myself laythat meddlesome Englishman bound and gagged at your feet."
The phrase delighted Carrier's insensate vanity. He was overgracious toChauvelin now.
"You shall do that at the Rat Mort, citizen Chauvelin," he said withmarked affability, "and I myself will commend you for your zeal to theCommittee of Public Safety."
"Always supposing," interposed Jacques Lalouet with his cynical laugh,"that citizen Chauvelin does not let the whole rabble slip through hisfingers."
"If I do," concluded Chauvelin drily, "you may drag the Loire for mybody to-morrow."
"Oh!" laughed Carrier, "we won't trouble to do that. _Au revoir_,citizen Chauvelin," he added with one of his grandiloquent gestures ofdismissal, "I wish you luck at the Rat Mort to-night."
Jacques Lalouet ushered Chauvelin out. When he was finally left standingalone at the head of the stairs and young Lalouet's footsteps had ceasedto resound across the floors of the rooms beyond, he remained quitestill for awhile, his eyes fixed into vacancy, his face set andexpressionless; and through his lips there came a long-drawn-out sigh ofintense satisfaction.
"And now, my fine Scarlet Pimpernel," he murmured softly, "once more _anous deux_."
Then he ran swiftly down the stairs and a moment later was once morespeeding toward Le Bouffay.