I need not ask either of you two to trust me, knowing that you will. But
I could not die inside this hole like a rat in a trap--I had to try and
free myself, at the worst to die in the open beneath God's sky. You two
will understand, and understanding you will trust me to the end. Send
the enclosed letter at once to its address. And you, Ffoulkes, my most
sincere and most loyal friend, I beg with all my soul to see to the
safety of Marguerite. Armand will stay by me--but you, Ffoulkes, do not
leave her, stand by her. As soon as you read this letter--and you will
not read it until both she and you have felt that hope has fled and I
myself am about to throw up the sponge--try and persuade her to make
for the coast as quickly as may be.... At Calais you can open up
communications with the Day-Dream in the usual way, and embark on her at
once. Let no member of the League remain on French soil one hour longer
after that. Then tell the skipper to make for Le Portal--the place which
he knows--and there to keep a sharp outlook for another three nights.
After that make straight for home, for it will be no use waiting any
longer. I shall not come. These measures are for Marguerite's safety,
and for you all who are in France at this moment. Comrade, I entreat you
to look on these measures as on my dying wish. To de Batz I have given
rendezvous at the Chapelle of the Holy Sepulchre, just outside the park
of the Chateau d'Ourde. He will help me to save the Dauphin, and if
by good luck he also helps me to save myself I shall be within seven
leagues of Le Portal, and with the Liane frozen as she is I could reach
the coast.

But Marguerite's safety I leave in your hands, Ffoulkes. Would that I
could look more clearly into the future, and know that those devils
will not drag her into danger. Beg her to start at once for Calais
immediately you have both read this. I only beg, I do not command. I
know that you, Ffoulkes, will stand by her whatever she may wish to do.
God's blessing be for ever on you both.

Marguerite's voice died away in the silence that still lay over this
deserted part of the great city and in this squalid house where she and
Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had found shelter these last ten days. The agony
of mind which they had here endured, never doubting, but scarcely ever
hoping, had found its culmination at last in this final message, which
almost seemed to come to them from the grave.

It had been written ten days ago.