e next room all day and entirely at your service."

A young orderly now entered bearing a small collation--eggs, bread, milk
and wine--which he set on the central table. Chauvelin bowed low before
Marguerite and withdrew. Anon he ordered the two sentinels to stand the
other side of the doorway, against the wall of his own room, and well
out of sight of Marguerite, so that, as she moved about her own narrow
prison, if she ate or slept, she might have the illusion that she was
unwatched.

The sight of the soldiers had had the desired effect on her. Chauvelin
had seen her shudder and knew that she understood of that she guessed.
He was now satisfied and really had no wish to harass her beyond
endurance.

Moreover, there was always the proclamation which threatened the
bread-winners of Boulogne with death if Marguerite Blakeney escaped,
and which would be in full force until Sir Percy had written, signed and
delivered into Chauvelin's hands the letter which was to be the signal
for the general amnesty.

Chauvelin had indeed cause to be satisfied with his measures. There was
no fear that his prisoners would attempt to escape.

Even Collot d'Herbois had to admit everything was well done. He had read
the draft of the proposed letter and was satisfied with its contents.
Gradually now into his loutish brain there had filtrated the conviction
that Citizen Chauvelin was right, that that accursed Scarlet Pimpernel
and his brood of English spies would be more effectually annihilated
by all the dishonour and ridicule which such a letter written by the
mysterious hero would heap upon them all, than they could ever be
through the relentless work of the guillotine. His only anxiety now was
whether the Englishman would write that letter.

"Bah! he'll do it," he would say whenever he thought the whole matter
over: "Sacre tonnerre! but 'tis an easy means to save his own skin."

"You would sign such a letter without hesitation, eh, Citizen Collot,"
said Chauvelin, with well-concealed sarcasm, on one occasion when his
colleague discussed the all-absorbing topic with him; "you would show
no hesitation, if your life were at stake, and you were given the choice
between writing that letter and... the guillotine?"

"Parbleu!" responded Collot with conviction.

"More especially," continued Chauvelin drily, "if a million francs were
promised you as well?"

"Sacre Anglis!" swore Collot angrily, "you don't propose giving him that
money, d