scort, and this time also two of his
favourite bodyguard accompanied him to the upper floor. He knocked at
the door, but received no answer, and after a second or two he bade his
men wait in the corridor and, gently turning the latch, walked in.

There was an odour of brandy in the air; on the table two or three empty
bottles of wine and a glass half filled with cognac testified to the
truth of what the orderly had said, whilst sprawling across the camp
bedstead, which obviously was too small for his long limbs, his head
thrown back, his mouth open for a vigorous snore, lay the imperturbable
Sir Percy fast asleep.

Chauvelin went up to the bedstead and looked down upon the reclining
figure of the man who had oft been called the most dangerous enemy of
Republican France.

Of a truth, a fine figure of a man, Chauvelin was ready enough to admit
that; the long, hard limbs, the wide chest, and slender, white hands,
all bespoke the man of birth, breeding and energy: the face too looked
strong and clearly-cut in repose, now that the perpetually inane smile
did not play round the firm lips, nor the lazy, indolent expression
mar the seriousness of the straight brow. For one moment--it was a mere
flash--Chauvelin felt almost sorry that so interesting a career should
be thus ignominiously brought to a close.

The Terrorist felt that if his own future, his own honour and integrity
were about to be so hopelessly crushed, he would have wandered up and
down this narrow room like a caged beast, eating out his heart with
self-reproach and remorse, and racking his nerves and brain for an issue
out of the terrible alternative which meant dishonour or death.

But this man drank and slept.

"Perhaps he doesn't care!"

And as if in answer to Chauvelin's puzzled musing a deep snore escaped
the sleeping adventurer's parted lips.

Chauvelin sighed, perplexed and troubled. He looked round the little
room, then went up to a small side table which stood against the wall
and on which were two or three quill pens and an ink-well, also some
loosely scattered sheets of paper. These he turned over with a careless
hand and presently came across a closely written page. ---- "Citizen
Chauvelin:--In consideration of a further sum of one million francs..."

It was the beginning of the letter!... only a few words so far... with
several corrections of misspelt words... and a line left out here and
there which confused the meaning... a beginning made