ord they had spoken seemed to strike at her heart, with
terrible hopelessness and dark foreboding.

She had come all this way, and with such high hopes and firm
determination to help her husband, and so far she had been able to do
nothing, but to watch, with a heart breaking with anguish, the meshes of
the deadly net closing round the daring Scarlet Pimpernel.

He could not now advance many steps, without spying eyes to track and
denounce him. Her own helplessness struck her with the terrible sense of
utter disappointment. The possibility of being the slightest use to her
husband had become almost NIL, and her only hope rested in being allowed
to share his fate, whatever it might ultimately be.

For the moment, even her chance of ever seeing the man she loved again,
had become a remote one. Still, she was determined to keep a close watch
over his enemy, and a vague hope filled her heart, that whilst she kept
Chauvelin in sight, Percy's fate might still be hanging in the balance.

Desgas left Chauvelin moodily pacing up and down the room, whilst he
himself waited outside for the return of the man whom he had sent in
search of Reuben. Thus several minutes went by. Chauvelin was evidently
devoured with impatience. Apparently he trusted no one: this last trick
played upon him by the daring Scarlet Pimpernel had made him suddenly
doubtful of success, unless he himself was there to watch, direct and
superintend the capture of this impudent Englishman.

About five minutes later, Desgas returned, followed by an elderly Jew,
in a dirty, threadbare gaberdine, worn greasy across the shoulders. His
red hair, which he wore after the fashion of the Polish Jews, with the
corkscrew curls each side of his face, was plentifully sprinkled with
grey--a general coating of grime, about his cheeks and his chin, gave
him a peculiarly dirty and loathsome appearance. He had the habitual
stoop, those of his race affected in mock humility in past centuries,
before the dawn of equality and freedom in matters of faith, and he
walked behind Desgas with the peculiar shuffling gait which has remained
the characteristic of the Jew trader in continental Europe to this day.

Chauvelin, who had all the Frenchman's prejudice against the despised
race, motioned to the fellow to keep at a respectful distance. The group
of the three men were standing just underneath the hanging oil-lamp, and
Marguerite had a clear view of them all.

"Is this the man?" as