ham.

Then she had changed her muslin frock for a dark traveling costume and
mantle, had provided herself with money--which her husband's lavishness
always placed fully at her disposal--and had started on her way.

She did not attempt to delude herself with any vain and futile hopes;
the safety of her brother Armand was to have been conditional on the
imminent capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel. As Chauvelin had sent her
back Armand's compromising letter, there was no doubt that he was quite
satisfied in his own mind that Percy Blakeney was the man whose death he
had sworn to bring about.

No! there was no room for any fond delusions! Percy, the husband whom
she loved with all the ardour which her admiration for his bravery
had kindled, was in immediate, deadly peril, through her hand. She had
betrayed him to his enemy--unwittingly 'tis true--but she HAD betrayed
him, and if Chauvelin succeeded in trapping him, who so far was unaware
of his danger, then his death would be at her door. His death! when with
her very heart's blood, she would have defended him and given willingly
her life for his.

She had ordered her coach to drive her to the "Crown" inn; once there,
she told her coachman to give the horses food and rest. Then she ordered
a chair, and had herself carried to the house in Pall Mall where Sir
Andrew Ffoulkes lived.

Among all Percy's friends who were enrolled under his daring banner,
she felt that she would prefer to confide in Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. He had
always been her friend, and now his love for little Suzanne had brought
him closer to her still. Had he been away from home, gone on the mad
errand with Percy, perhaps, then she would have called on Lord Hastings
or Lord Tony--for she wanted the help of one of these young men, or she
would indeed be powerless to save her husband.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, however, was at home, and his servant introduced
her ladyship immediately. She went upstairs to the young man's
comfortable bachelor's chambers, and was shown into a small, though
luxuriously furnished, dining-room. A moment or two later Sir Andrew
himself appeared.

He had evidently been much startled when he heard who his lady visitor
was, for he looked anxiously--even suspiciously--at Marguerite, whilst
performing the elaborate bows before her, which the rigid etiquette of
the time demanded.

Marguerite had laid aside every vestige of nervousness; she was
perfectly calm, and having returned the young