El Dorado: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel

  CHAPTER XXXVI. SUBMISSION

  Silence reigned in the narrow cell for a few moments, whilst two humanjackals stood motionless over their captured prey.

  A savage triumph gleamed in Chauvelin's eyes, and even Heron, dull andbrutal though he was, had become vaguely conscious of the great changethat had come over the prisoner.

  Blakeney, with a gesture and a sigh of hopeless exhaustion had oncemore rested both his elbows on the table; his head fell heavy and almostlifeless downward in his arms.

  "Curse you, man!" cried Heron almost involuntarily. "Why in the name ofhell did you wait so long?"

  Then, as the prisoner made no reply, but only raised his head slightly,and looked on the other two men with dulled, wearied eyes, Chauvelininterposed calmly:

  "More than a fortnight has been wasted in useless obstinacy, Sir Percy.Fortunately it is not too late."

  "Capet?" said Heron hoarsely, "tell us, where is Capet?"

  He leaned across the table, his eyes were bloodshot with the keennessof his excitement, his voice shook with the passionate desire for thecrowning triumph.

  "If you'll only not worry me," murmured the prisoner; and the whispercame so laboriously and so low that both men were forced to bend theirears close to the scarcely moving lips; "if you will let me sleep andrest, and leave me in peace--"

  "The peace of the grave, man," retorted Chauvelin roughly; "if you willonly speak. Where is Capet?"

  "I cannot tell you; the way is long, the road--intricate."

  "Bah!"

  "I'll lead you to him, if you will give me rest."

  "We don't want you to lead us anywhere," growled Heron with a smotheredcurse; "tell us where Capet is; we'll find him right enough."

  "I cannot explain; the way is intricate; the place off the beaten track,unknown except to me and my friends."

  Once more that shadow, which was so like the passing of the hand ofDeath, overspread the prisoner's face; his head rolled back against thechair.

  "He'll die before he can speak," muttered Chauvelin under his breath."You usually are well provided with brandy, citizen Heron."

  The latter no longer demurred. He saw the danger as clearly as did hiscolleague. It had been hell's own luck if the prisoner were to die nowwhen he seemed ready to give in. He produced a flask from the pocket ofhis coat, and this he held to Blakeney's lips.

  "Beastly stuff," murmured the latter feebly. "I think I'd soonerfaint--than drink."

  "Capet? where is Capet?" reiterated Heron impatiently.

  "One--two--three hundred leagues from here. I must let one of my friendsknow; he'll communicate with the others; they must be prepared," repliedthe prisoner slowly.

  Heron uttered a blasphemous oath.

  "Where is Capet? Tell us where Capet is, or--"

  He was like a raging tiger that had thought to hold its prey andsuddenly realised that it was being snatched from him. He raised hisfist, and without doubt the next moment he would have silenced foreverthe lips that held the precious secret, but Chauvelin fortunately wasquick enough to seize his wrist.

  "Have a care, citizen," he said peremptorily; "have a care! You calledme a fool just now when you thought I had killed the prisoner. It is hissecret we want first; his death can follow afterwards."

  "Yes, but not in this d--d hole," murmured Blakeney.

  "On the guillotine if you'll speak," cried Heron, whose exasperation wasgetting the better of his self-interest, "but if you'll not speak thenit shall be starvation in this hole--yes, starvation," he growled,showing a row of large and uneven teeth like those of some mongrel cur,"for I'll have that door walled in to-night, and not another living soulshall cross this threshold again until your flesh has rotted on yourbones and the rats have had their fill of you."

  The prisoner raised his head slowly, a shiver shook him as if caused byague, and his eyes, that appeared almost sightless, now looked with astrange glance of horror on his enemy.

  "I'll die in the open," he whispered, "not in this d--d hole."

  "Then tell us where Capet is."

  "I cannot; I wish to God I could. But I'll take you to him, I swear Iwill. I'll make my friends give him up to you. Do you think that I wouldnot tell you now, if I could."

  Heron, whose every instinct of tyranny revolted against this thwartingof his will, would have continued to heckle the prisoner even now, hadnot Chauvelin suddenly interposed with an authoritative gesture.

  "You'll gain nothing this way, citizen," he said quietly; "the man'smind is wandering; he is probably quite unable to give you cleardirections at this moment."

  "What am I to do, then?" muttered the other roughly.

  "He cannot live another twenty-four hours now, and would only grow moreand more helpless as time went on."

  "Unless you relax your strict regime with him."

  "And if I do we'll only prolong this situation indefinitely; and in themeanwhile how do we know that the brat is not being spirited away out ofthe country?"

  The prisoner, with his head once more buried in his arms, had falleninto a kind of torpor, the only kind of sleep that the exhausted systemwould allow. With a brutal gesture Heron shook him by the shoulder.

  "He," he shouted, "none of that, you know. We have not settled thematter of young Capet yet."

  Then, as the prisoner made no movement, and the chief agent indulgedin one of his favourite volleys of oaths, Chauvelin placed a peremptoryhand on his colleague's shoulder.

  "I tell you, citizen, that this is no use," he said firmly. "Unless youare prepared to give up all thoughts of finding Capet, you must try andcurb your temper, and try diplomacy where force is sure to fail."

  "Diplomacy?" retorted the other with a sneer. "Bah! it served you wellat Boulogne last autumn, did it not, citizen Chauvelin?"

  "It has served me better now," rejoined the other imperturbably. "Youwill own, citizen, that it is my diplomacy which has placed within yourreach the ultimate hope of finding Capet."

  "H'm!" muttered the other, "you advised us to starve the prisoner. Arewe any nearer to knowing his secret?"

  "Yes. By a fortnight of weariness, of exhaustion and of starvation, youare nearer to it by the weakness of the man whom in his full strengthyou could never hope to conquer."

  "But if the cursed Englishman won't speak, and in the meanwhile dies onmy hands--"

  "He won't do that if you will accede to his wish. Give him some goodfood now, and let him sleep till dawn."

  "And at dawn he'll defy me again. I believe now that he has some schemein his mind, and means to play us a trick."

  "That, I imagine, is more than likely," retorted Chauvelin dryly;"though," he added with a contemptuous nod of the head directed at thehuddled-up figure of his once brilliant enemy, "neither mind nor bodyseem to me to be in a sufficiently active state just now for hatchingplot or intrigue; but even if--vaguely floating through his cloudedmind--there has sprung some little scheme for evasion, I give you myword, citizen Heron, that you can thwart him completely, and gain allthat you desire, if you will only follow my advice."

  There had always been a great amount of persuasive power in citizenChauvelin, ex-envoy of the revolutionary Government of France at theCourt of St. James, and that same persuasive eloquence did not fail nowin its effect on the chief agent of the Committee of General Security.The latter was made of coarser stuff than his more brilliant colleague.Chauvelin was like a wily and sleek panther that is furtive in itsmovements, that will lure its prey, watch it, follow it with stealthyfootsteps, and only pounce on it when it is least wary, whilst Heron wasmore like a raging bull that tosses its head in a blind, irresponsiblefashion, rushes at an obstacle without gauging its resisting powers,and allows its victim to slip from beneath its weight through the veryclumsiness and brutality of its assault.

  Still Chauvelin had two heavy black marks against him--those of hisfailures at Calais and Boulogne. Heron, rendered cautious both by thedeadly danger in which he stood and the sense of his own incompetence todeal with the
present situation, tried to resist the other's authorityas well as his persuasion.

  "Your advice was not of great use to citizen Collot last autumn atBoulogne," he said, and spat on the ground by way of expressing both hisindependence and his contempt.

  "Still, citizen Heron," retorted Chauvelin with unruffled patience, "itis the best advice that you are likely to get in the present emergency.You have eyes to see, have you not? Look on your prisoner at thismoment. Unless something is done, and at once, too, he will be pastnegotiating with in the next twenty-four hours; then what will follow?"

  He put his thin hand once more on his colleague's grubby coat-sleeve,he drew him closer to himself away from the vicinity of that huddledfigure, that captive lion, wrapped in a torpid somnolence that lookedalready so like the last long sleep.

  "What will follow, citizen Heron?" he reiterated, sinking his voice toa whisper; "sooner or later some meddlesome busybody who sits in theAssembly of the Convention will get wind that little Capet is no longerin the Temple prison, that a pauper child was substituted for him, andthat you, citizen Heron, together with the commissaries in charge,have thus been fooling the nation and its representatives for over afortnight. What will follow then, think you?"

  And he made an expressive gesture with his outstretched fingers acrosshis throat.

  Heron found no other answer but blasphemy.

  "I'll make that cursed Englishman speak yet," he said with a fierceoath.

  "You cannot," retorted Chauvelin decisively. "In his present state he isincapable of it, even if he would, which also is doubtful."

  "Ah! then you do think that he still means to cheat us?"

  "Yes, I do. But I also know that he is no longer in a physical stateto do it. No doubt he thinks that he is. A man of that type is sure toovervalue his own strength; but look at him, citizen Heron. Surely youmust see that we have nothing to fear from him now."

  Heron now was like a voracious creature that has two victims lying readyfor his gluttonous jaws. He was loath to let either of them go. He hatedthe very thought of seeing the Englishman being led out of this narrowcell, where he had kept a watchful eye over him night and day for afortnight, satisfied that with every day, every hour, the chances ofescape became more improbable and more rare; at the same time there wasthe possibility of the recapture of little Capet, a possibility whichmade Heron's brain reel with the delightful vista of it, and which mightnever come about if the prisoner remained silent to the end.

  "I wish I were quite sure," he said sullenly, "that you were body andsoul in accord with me."

  "I am in accord with you, citizen Heron," rejoined the otherearnestly--"body and soul in accord with you. Do you not believe thatI hate this man--aye! hate him with a hatred ten thousand times morestrong than yours? I want his death--Heaven or hell alone know how Ilong for that--but what I long for most is his lasting disgrace. Forthat I have worked, citizen Heron--for that I advised and helped you.When first you captured this man you wanted summarily to try him, tosend him to the guillotine amidst the joy of the populace of Paris,and crowned with a splendid halo of martyrdom. That man, citizen Heron,would have baffled you, mocked you, and fooled you even on the steps ofthe scaffold. In the zenith of his strength and of insurmountable goodluck you and all your myrmidons and all the assembled guard of Pariswould have had no power over him. The day that you led him out of thiscell in order to take him to trial or to the guillotine would have beenthat of your hopeless discomfiture. Having once walked out of this cellhale, hearty and alert, be the escort round him ever so strong, he neverwould have re-entered it again. Of that I am as convinced as that I amalive. I know the man; you don't. Mine are not the only fingers throughwhich he has slipped. Ask citizen Collot d'Herbois, ask Sergeant Bibotat the barrier of Menilmontant, ask General Santerre and his guards.They all have a tale to tell. Did I believe in God or the devil, Ishould also believe that this man has supernatural powers and a host ofdemons at his beck and call."

  "Yet you talk now of letting him walk out of this cell to-morrow?"

  "He is a different man now, citizen Heron. On my advice you placedhim on a regime that has counteracted the supernatural power by simplephysical exhaustion, and driven to the four winds the host of demons whono doubt fled in the face of starvation."

  "If only I thought that the recapture of Capet was as vital to you as itis to me," said Heron, still unconvinced.

  "The capture of Capet is just as vital to me as it is to you," rejoinedChauvelin earnestly, "if it is brought about through the instrumentalityof the Englishman."

  He paused, looking intently on his colleague, whose shifty eyesencountered his own. Thus eye to eye the two men at last understood oneanother.

  "Ah!" said Heron with a snort, "I think I understand."

  "I am sure that you do," responded Chauvelin dryly. "The disgrace ofthis cursed Scarlet Pimpernel and his League is as vital to me, andmore, as the capture of Capet is to you. That is why I showed you theway how to bring that meddlesome adventurer to his knees; that is why Iwill help you now both to find Capet and with his aid and to wreak whatreprisals you like on him in the end."

  Heron before he spoke again cast one more look on the prisoner. Thelatter had not stirred; his face was hidden, but the hands, emaciated,nerveless and waxen, like those of the dead, told a more eloquent tale,mayhap, then than the eyes could do. The chief agent of the Committee ofGeneral Security walked deliberately round the table until he stood oncemore close beside the man from whom he longed with passionate ardourto wrest an all-important secret. With brutal, grimy hand he raised thehead that lay, sunken and inert, against the table; with callous eyes hegazed attentively on the face that was then revealed to him, he lookedon the waxen flesh, the hollow eyes, the bloodless lips; then heshrugged his wide shoulders, and with a laugh that surely must havecaused joy in hell, he allowed the wearied head to fall back against theoutstretched arms, and turned once again to his colleague.

  "I think you are right, citizen Chauvelin," he said; "there is not muchsupernatural power here. Let me hear your advice."