otsteps had died away in the
distance. Chauvelin listened to them for a moment; the promise of the
reward was lending spurs to the soldiers of the Republic. The gleam of
hate and anticipated triumph was once more apparent on his face.

Close to him Desgas still stood mute and impassive, waiting for further
orders, whilst two soldiers were kneeling beside the prostrate form of
Marguerite. Chauvelin gave his secretary a vicious look. His well-laid
plan had failed, its sequel was problematical; there was still a great
chance now that the Scarlet Pimpernel might yet escape, and Chauvelin,
with that unreasoning fury, which sometimes assails a strong nature, was
longing to vent his rage on somebody.

The soldiers were holding Marguerite pinioned to the ground, though,
she, poor soul, was not making the faintest struggle. Overwrought nature
had at last peremptorily asserted herself, and she lay there in a
dead swoon: her eyes circled by deep purple lines, that told of long,
sleepless nights, her hair matted and damp round her forehead, her lips
parted in a sharp curve that spoke of physical pain.

The cleverest woman in Europe, the elegant and fashionable Lady
Blakeney, who had dazzled London society with her beauty, her wit and
her extravagances, presented a very pathetic picture of tired-out,
suffering womanhood, which would have appealed to any, but the hard,
vengeful heart of her baffled enemy.

"It is no use mounting guard over a woman who is half dead," he said
spitefully to the soldiers, "when you have allowed five men who were
very much alive to escape."

Obediently the soldiers rose to their feet.

"You'd better try and find that footpath again for me, and that
broken-down cart we left on the road."

Then suddenly a bright idea seemed to strike him.

"Ah! by-the-bye! where is the Jew?"

"Close by here, citoyen," said Desgas; "I gagged him and tied his legs
together as you commanded."

From the immediate vicinity, a plaintive moan reached Chauvelin's ears.
He followed his secretary, who led the way to the other side of the hut,
where, fallen into an absolute heap of dejection, with his legs tightly
pinioned together and his mouth gagged, lay the unfortunate descendant
of Israel.

His face in the silvery light of the moon looked positively ghastly with
terror: his eyes were wide open and almost glassy, and his whole
body was trembling, as if with ague, while a piteous wail escaped his
bloodless lips. The r