man's elaborate salute,
she began very calmly,--

"Sir Andrew, I have no desire to waste valuable time in much talk. You
must take certain things I am going to tell you for granted. These will
be of no importance. What is important is that your leader and comrade,
the Scarlet Pimpernel . . . my husband . . . Percy Blakeney . . . is in
deadly peril."

Had she the remotest doubt of the correctness of her deductions, she
would have had them confirmed now, for Sir Andrew, completely taken by
surprise, had grown very pale, and was quite incapable of making the
slightest attempt at clever parrying.

"No matter how I know this, Sir Andrew," she continued quietly,
"thank God that I do, and that perhaps it is not too late to save him.
Unfortunately, I cannot do this quite alone, and therefore have come to
you for help."

"Lady Blakeney," said the young man, trying to recover himself,
"I . . ."

"Will you hear me first?" she interrupted. "This is how the matter
stands. When the agent of the French Government stole your papers that
night in Dover, he found amongst them certain plans, which you or your
leader meant to carry out for the rescue of the Comte de Tournay and
others. The Scarlet Pimpernel--Percy, my husband--has gone on this
errand himself to-day. Chauvelin knows that the Scarlet Pimpernel
and Percy Blakeney are one and the same person. He will follow him to
Calais, and there will lay hands on him. You know as well as I do the
fate that awaits him at the hands of the Revolutionary Government of
France. No interference from England--from King George himself--would
save him. Robespierre and his gang would see to it that the interference
came too late. But not only that, the much-trusted leader will also have
been unconsciously the means of revealing the hiding-place of the Comte
de Tournay and of all those who, even now, are placing their hopes in
him."

She had spoken quietly, dispassionately, and with firm, unbending
resolution. Her purpose was to make that young man trust and help her,
for she could do nothing without him.

"I do not understand," he repeated, trying to gain time, to think what
was best to be done.

"Aye! but I think you do, Sir Andrew. You must know that I am speaking
the truth. Look these facts straight in the face. Percy has sailed for
Calais, I presume for some lonely part of the coast, and Chauvelin is on
his track. HE has posted for Dover, and will cross the Channel probably
to-night.