initials S。 P。 roughly traced in pencil。 No one challenged him as
he noiselessly glided past it； and up the narrow stairs that led
to the upper floor。 Here； too； on the second landing the door on
the right had been left on the latch。 He pushed it open and
entered。
As is usual even in the meanest lodgings in Paris houses； a small
antechamber gave between the front door and the main room。 When
Percy entered the antechamber was unlighted； but the door into the
inner room beyond was ajar。 Blakeney approached it with noiseless
tread； and gently pushed it open。
That very instant he knew that the game was up； he heard the
footsteps closing up behind him； saw Armand； deathly pale； leaning
against the wall in the room in front of him； and Chauvelin and
Heron standing guard over him。
The next moment the room and the antechamber were literally alive
with soldierstwenty of them to arrest one man。
It was characteristic of that man that when hands were laid on him
from every side he threw back his head and laughedlaughed
mirthfully； light…heartedly； and the first words that escaped his
lips were：
〃Well； I am dd！〃
〃The odds are against you； Sir Percy；〃 said Chauvelin to him in
English； whilst Heron at the further end of the room was growling
like a contented beast。
〃By the Lord； sir；〃 said Percy with perfect sang…froid； 〃I do
believe that for the moment they are。〃
〃Have done； my menhave done！〃 he added； turning good…humouredly
to the soldiers round him。 〃I never fight against overwhelming
odds。 Twenty to one； eh？ I could lay four of you out easily
enough； perhaps even six； but what then？〃
But a kind of savage lust seemed to have rendered these men
temporarily mad； and they were being egged on by Heron。 The
mysterious Englishman； about whom so many eerie tales were told！
Well； he had supernatural powers； and twenty to one might be
nothing to him if the devil was on his side。 Therefore a blow on
his forearm with the butt…end of a bayonet was useful for
disabling his right hand； and soon the left arm with a dislocated
shoulder hung limp by his side。 Then he was bound with cords。
The vein of luck had given out。 The gambler had staked more than
usual and had lost； but he knew how to lose； just as he had always
known how to win。
〃Those dd brutes are trussing me like a fowl；〃 he murmured with
irrepressible gaiety at the last。
Then the wrench on his bruised arms as they were pulled roughly
back by the cords caused the veil of unconsciousness to gather
over his eyes。
〃And Jeanne was safe； Armand；〃 he shouted with a last desperate
effort； 〃those devils have lied to you and tricked you into this
。。。 Since yesterday she is out of prison 。。。 in the house 。。。 you
know 。。。。〃
After that he lost consciousness。
And this occurred on Tuesday； January 21st； in the year 1794； or；
in accordance with the new calendar； on the 2nd Pluviose； year II
of the Republic。
It is chronicled in the Moniteur of the 3rd Pluviose that； 〃on
the previous evening； at half…past ten of the clock； the
Englishman known as the Scarlet Pimpernel； who for three years has
conspired against the safety of the Republic； was arrested through
the patriotic exertions of citizen Chauvelin； and conveyed to the
Conciergerie； where he now liessick； but closely guarded。 Long
live the Republic！〃
PART II
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NEWS
The grey January day was falling； drowsy； and dull into the arms
of night。
Marguerite； sitting in the dusk beside the fire in her small
boudoir； shivered a little as she drew her scarf closer round her
shoulders。
Edwards； the butler； entered with the lamp。 The room looked
peculiarly cheery now； with the delicate white panelling of the
wall glowing tinder the soft kiss of the flickering firelight and
the steadier glow of the rose…shaded lamp。
〃Has the courier not arrived yet； Edwards？〃 asked Marguerite；
fixing the impassive face of the well…drilled servant with her
large purple…rimmed eyes。
〃Not yet； m'lady；〃 he replied placidly。
〃It is his day； is it not？〃
〃Yes； m'lady。 And the forenoon is his time。 But there have been
heavy rains； and the roads must be rare muddy。 He must have been
delayed； m'lady。〃
〃Yes； I suppose so；〃 she said listlessly。 〃That will do； Edwards。
No； don't close the shutters。 I'll ring presently。〃
The man went out of the room as automatically as he had come。 He
closed the door behind him； and Marguerite was once more alone。
She picked up the book which she had fingered idly before the
light gave out。 She tried once more to fix her attention on this
tale of love and adventure written by Mr。 Fielding； but she had
lost the thread of the story； and there was a mist between her
eyes and the printed pages。
With an impatient gesture she threw down the book and passed her
hand across her eyes； then seemed astonished to find that her hand
was wet。
She rose and went to the window。 The air outside had been
singularly mild all day； the thaw was persisting； and a south wind
came across the Channelfrom France。
Marguerite threw open the casement and sat down on the wide sill；
leaning her head against the window…frame； and gazing out into the
fast gathering gloom。 From far away； at the foot of the gently
sloping lawns； the river murmured softly in the night； in the
borders to the right and left a few snowdrops still showed like
tiny white specks through the surrounding darkness。 Winter had
begun the process of slowly shedding its mantle； coquetting with
Spring； who still lingered in the land of Infinity。 Gradually the
shadows drew closer and closer； the reeds and rushes on the river
bank were the first to sink into their embrace； then the big
cedars on the lawn； majestic and defiant； but yielding still
unconquered to the power of night。
The tiny stars of snowdrop blossoms vanished one by one； and at
last the cool； grey ribbon of the river surface was wrapped under
the mantle of evening。
Only the south wind lingered on； soughing gently in the drowsy
reeds； whispering among the branches of the cedars； and gently
stirring the tender corollas of the sleeping snowdrops。
Marguerite seemed to open out her lungs to its breath。 It had come
all the way from France； and on its wings had brought something of
Percya murmur as if he had spokena memory that was as
intangible as a dream。
She shivered again； though of a truth it was not cold。 The
courier's delay had completely unsettled her nerves。 Twice a week
he came especially from Dover； and always he brought some message；
some token which Percy had contrived to send from Paris。 They
were like tiny scraps of dry bread thrown to a starving woman； but
they did just help to keep her heart alivethat poor； aching；
disappointed heart that so longed for enduring happiness which it
could never get。
The man whom she loved with all her soul； her mind and her body；
did not belong to her； he belonged to suffering humanity over
there in terror…stricken France； where the cries of the innocent；
the persecuted； the wretched called louder to him than she in her
love could do。
He had been away three months now； during which time her starving
heart had fed on its memories； and the happiness of a brief visit
from him six weeks ago； whenquite unexpectedlyhe had appeared
before her 。。。 home between two desperate adventures that had
given life and freedom to a number of innocent people； and nearly
cost him hisand she had lain in his arms in a swoon of perfect
happiness。
But be had gone away again as suddenly as he had come； and for six
weeks now she had lived partly in anticipation of the courier with
messages from him； and partly on the fitful joy engendered by
these messages。 To…day she had not even that； and the disappointment
seemed just now more than she could bear。
She felt unaccountably restless； and could she but have analysed
her feelingshad she dared so to doshe would have realised that
the weight which oppressed her heart so that she could hardly
breathe； was one of vague yet dark foreboding。
She closed the window and returned to her seat by the fire； taking
up her hook with the strong resolution not to allow her nerves to
get the better of her。 But it was difficult to pin one's
attention down to the adventures of Master Tom Jones when one's
mind was fully engrossed with those of Sir Percy Blakeney。
The sound of carriage wheels on the gravelled forecourt in the
front of the house suddenly awakened her drowsy senses。 She threw
down the book； and with trembling hands clutched the arms of her
chair； straining her ears to listen。 A carriage at this hourand
on this damp winter's evening！ She racked her mind wondering who
it could be。
Lady Ffoulkes was in London； she knew。 Sir Andrew； of course； was
in Paris。 His Royal Highness； ever a faithful visitor； would
surely not venture out to Richmond in this inclement weatherand
the courier always came on horseback。
There was a murmur of voices； that of Edwards； mechanical and
placid； could be heard quite distinctly saying：
〃I'm sure that her ladyship will be at home for you； m'lady。 But
I'll go and ascertain。〃
Marguerite ran to the door and with joyful eagerness tore it open。
〃Suzanne！〃 she called 〃my little Suzanne！ I thought you were in
London。 Come up quickly！ In the boudoiryes。 Oh！ what good
fortune hath brought you？〃
Suzanne flew into her arms； holding the friend whom she loved so
well close and closer to her heart； trying to hide her face； which
was wet with tears； in the folds of Marguerite's kerchief。
〃Come inside； my darling；〃 said Marguerite。 〃Why； how cold your
little hands are！〃
She was on the point of turning back to her boudoir； drawing Lady
Ffoulkes by the hand； when suddenly she caught sight of Sir Andrew；
who stood at a little distance from her； at the top of the stairs。
〃Sir Andrew！〃 she exclaimed with unstinted gladness。
Then she paused。 The cry of welcome died on her lips； leaving
them dry and parted。 She suddenly felt as if some fearful talons
had gripped her heart and were tearing at it with sharp； long
nails； the blood flew from her cheeks and from her limbs； leaving
her with a sense o