Her mother's voice brought her back
to reality once more, and with a submissive "Yes, Mama," she took her
place at the supper table.
CHAPTER IV THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
They all looked a merry, even a happy party, as they sat round
the table; Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Antony Dewhurst, two typical
good-looking, well-born and well-bred Englishmen of that year of grace
1792, and the aristocratic French comtesse with her two children, who
had just escaped from such dire perils, and found a safe retreat at
last on the shores of protecting England.
In the corner the two strangers had apparently finished their
game; one of them arose, and standing with his back to the merry
company at the table, he adjusted with much with much deliberation his
large triple caped coat. As he did so, he gave one quick glance all
around him. Everyone was busy laughing and chatting, and he murmured
the words "All safe!": his companion then, with the alertness borne of
long practice, slipped on to his knees in a moment, and the next had
crept noiselessly under the oak bench. The stranger then, with a loud
"Good-night," quietly walked out of the coffee-room.
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