She did not know how long she was thus carried along, she had lostall 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 withsome degree of comfort upon a man's coat, with her back resting againsta fragment of rock. The moon was hidden again behind some clouds, andthe darkness seemed in comparison more intense. The sea was roaring sometwo hundred feet below her, and on looking all round she could no longersee any vestige of the tiny glimmer of red light.
That the end of the journey had been reached, she gathered from the factthat she heard rapid questions and answers spoken in a whisper quiteclose to her.
"There are four men in there, citoyen; they are sitting by the fire, andseem 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 wecannot 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 willsurround 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 thehut and leave me to look after the lady."
Desgas evidently obeyed, for Marguerite heard him creeping away alongthe stony cliff, then she felt that a pair of warm, thin, talon-likehands 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 onesmall word of warning. What has procured me the honour of being followedacross the Channel by so charming a companion, I cannot, of course,conceive, but, if I mistake it not, the purpose of this flatteringattention is not one that would commend itself to my vanity and I thinkthat I am right in surmising, moreover, that the first sound which yourpretty lips would utter, as soon as the cruel gag is removed, would beone that would prove a warning to the cunning fox, which I have been atsuch pains to track to his lair."
He paused a moment, while the steel-like grasp seemed to tighten roundher 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 toyou, for the arrival of the mysterious rescuer, whose identity has forso long puzzled our Committee of Public Safety--the audacious ScarletPimpernel. No doubt if you scream, if there is a scuffle here, if shotsare fired, it is more than likely that the same long legs that broughtthis scarlet enigma here, will as quickly take him to some place ofsafety. The purpose then, for which I have travelled all these miles,will remain unaccomplished. On the other hand it only rests withyourself that your brother--Armand--shall be free to go off with youto-night if you like, to England, or any other place of safety."
Marguerite could not utter a sound, as the handkerchief was would verytightly round her mouth, but Chauvelin was peering through the darknessvery closely into her face; no doubt too her hand gave a responsiveappeal 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 youleave to speak. Ah! but I think you will obey," he added, with thatfunny 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 arethirty of them about--will seize St. Just, de Tournay, and their twofriends, and shoot them here--by my orders--before your eyes."
Marguerite had listened to her implacable enemy's speech withever-increasing terror. Numbed with physical pain, she yet hadsufficient mental vitality in her to realize the full horror of thisterrible "either--or" he was once more putting before her; "either--or"ten thousand times more appalling and horrible than the one he hadsuggested to her that fatal night at the ball.
This time it meant that she should keep still, and allow the husband sheworshipped to walk unconsciously to his death, or that she should,by trying to give him a word of warning, which perhaps might even beunavailing, actually give the signal for her own brother's death, andthat of three other unsuspecting men.
She could not see Chauvelin, but she could almost feel those keen, paleeyes of his fixed maliciously upon her helpless form, and his hurried,whispered words reached her ear, as the death-knell of her last faint,lingering hope.
"Nay, fair lady," he added urbanely, "you can have no interest in anyonesave in St. Just, and all you need do for his safety is to remain whereyou are, and to keep silent. My men have strict orders to spare him inevery way. As for that enigmatic Scarlet Pimpernel, what is he to you?Believe me, no warning from you could possibly save him. And now dearlady, let me remove this unpleasant coercion, which has been placedbefore your pretty mouth. You see I wish you to be perfectly free, inthe choice which you are about to make."
Her thoughts in a whirl, her temples aching, her nerves paralyzed,her body numb with pain, Marguerite sat there, in the darkness whichsurrounded her as with a pall. From where she sat she could not see thesea, but she heard the incessant mournful murmur of the incoming tide,which spoke of her dead hopes, her lost love, the husband she had withher own hand betrayed, and sent to his death.
Chauvelin removed the handkerchief from her mouth. She certainly did notscream: at that moment, she had no strength to do anything but barely tohold herself upright, and to force herself to think.
Oh! think! think! think! of what she should do. The minutes flew on;in this awful stillness she could not tell how fast or how slowly; sheheard nothing, she saw nothing: she did not feel the sweet-smellingautumn air, scented with the briny odour of the sea, she no longer heardthe murmur of the waves, the occasional rattling of a pebble, as itrolled down some steep incline. More and more unreal did the wholesituation seem. It was impossible that she, Marguerite Blakeney, thequeen of London society, should actually be sitting here on this bitof lonely coast, in the middle of the night, side by side with a mostbitter enemy; and oh! it was not possible that somewhere, not manyhundred feet away perhaps, from where she stood, the being she had oncedespised, but who now, in every moment of this weird, dreamlikelife, became more and more dear--it was not possible that HE wasunconsciously, even now walking to his doom, whilst she did nothing tosave him.
Why did she not with unearthly screams, that would re-echo from one endof the lonely beach to the other, send out a warning to him to desist,to retrace his steps, for death lurked here whilst he advanced? Once ortwice the screams rose to her throat--as if by instinct: then, beforeher eyes there stood the awful alternative: her brother and those threemen shot before her eyes, practically by her orders: she their murderer.
Oh! that fiend in human shape, next to her, knew human--female--naturewell. He had played upon her feelings as a skilful musician plays uponan instrument. He had gauged her very thoughts to a nicety.
She could not give that signal--for she was weak, and she was a woman.How could she deliberately order Armand to be shot before her eyes, tohave his dear blood upon her head, he dying perhaps with a curse on her,upon his lips. And little Suzanne's father, too! he, an old man; andthe others!--oh! it was all too, too horrible.
Wait! wait! wait! how long? The early morning hours sped on, and yetit was not dawn: the sea continued its incessant mournful murmur, theautumnal breeze sighed gently in the night: the lonely beach was silent,even as the
grave.
Suddenly from somewhere, not very far away, a cheerful, strong voice washeard singing "God save the King!"
CHAPTER XXX THE SCHOONER