grant
that I may not be too late. . . ."

"We met half a dozen men just now, who have been patrolling this road
for several hours."

"Well?"

"They have seen no stranger either." "Yet he is on ahead somewhere, in
a cart or else . . . Here! there is not a moment to lose. How far is that
hut from here?"

"About a couple of leagues, citoyen."

"You can find it again?--at once?--without hesitation?"

"I have absolutely no doubt, citoyen."

"The footpath, to the edge of the cliff?--Even in the dark?"

"It is not a dark night, citoyen, and I know I can find my way,"
repeated the soldier firmly.

"Fall in behind then. Let your comrade take both your horses back to
Calais. You won't want them. Keep beside the cart, and direct the Jew to
drive straight ahead; then stop him, within a quarter of a league of the
footpath; see that he takes the most direct road."

Whilst Chauvelin spoke, Desgas and his men were fast approaching, and
Marguerite could hear their footsteps within a hundred yards behind her
now. She thought it unsafe to stay where she was, and unnecessary too,
as she had heard enough. She seemed suddenly to have lost all faculty
even for suffering: her heart, her nerves, her brain seemed to have
become numb after all these hours of ceaseless anguish, culminating in
this awful despair.

For now there was absolutely not the faintest hope. Within two short
leagues of this spot, the fugitives were waiting for their brave
deliverer. He was on his way, somewhere on this lonely road, and
presently he would join them; then the well-laid trap would close, two
dozen men, led by one whose hatred was as deadly as his cunning was
malicious, would close round the small band of fugitives, and their
daring leader. They would all be captured. Armand, according to
Chauvelin's pledged word would be restored to her, but her husband,
Percy, whom with every breath she drew she seemed to love and worship
more and more, he would fall into the hands of a remorseless enemy, who
had no pity for a brave heart, no admiration for the courage of a noble
soul, who would show nothing but hatred for the cunning antagonist, who
had baffled him so long.

She heard the soldier giving a few brief directions to the Jew, then
she retired quickly to the edge of the road, and cowered behind some low
shrubs, whilst Desgas and his men came up.

All fell in noiselessly behind the cart, and slowly they all started
down the dark road. Marguerite w