ke you. We meet at nightfall at 'The
Fisherman's Rest.' Chauvelin would avoid it, as he is known there, and I
think it would be the safest. I will gladly accept your escort to Calais
. . . as you say, I might miss Sir Percy were you to direct me ever so
carefully. We'll charter a schooner at Dover and cross over during the
night. Disguised, if you will agree to it, as my lacquey, you will, I
think, escape detection."

"I am entirely at your service, Madame," rejoined the young man
earnestly. "I trust to God that you will sight the DAY DREAM before
we reach Calais. With Chauvelin at his heels, every step the Scarlet
Pimpernel takes on French soil is fraught with danger."

"God grant it, Sir Andrew. But now, farewell. We meet to-night at
Dover! It will be a race between Chauvelin and me across the Channel
to-night--and the prize--the life of the Scarlet Pimpernel."

He kissed her hand, and then escorted her to her chair. A quarter of an
hour later she was back at the "Crown" inn, where her coach and horses
were ready and waiting for her. The next moment they thundered along
the London streets, and then straight on to the Dover road at maddening
speed.

She had no time for despair now. She was up and doing and had no leisure
to think. With Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as her companion and ally, hope had
once again revived in her heart.

God would be merciful. He would not allow so appalling a crime to be
committed, as the death of a brave man, through the hand of a woman who
loved him, and worshipped him, and who would gladly have died for his
sake.

Marguerite's thoughts flew back to him, the mysterious hero, whom she
had always unconsciously loved, when his identity was still unknown to
her. Laughingly, in the olden days, she used to call him the shadowy
king of her heart, and now she had suddenly found that this enigmatic
personality whom she had worshipped, and the man who loved her so
passionately, were one and the same: what wonder that one or two happier
Visions began to force their way before her mind? She vaguely wondered
what she would say to him when first they would stand face to face.

She had had so many anxieties, so much excitement during the past few
hours, that she allowed herself the luxury of nursing these few more
hopeful, brighter thoughts. Gradually the rumble of the coach wheels,
with its incessant monotony, acted soothingly on her nerves: her
eyes, aching with fatigue and many shed and unshed tears,