. . . You are going to the ball
anon. . . . Watch for me there, citoyenne, watch and listen. . . .
You can tell me if you hear a chance word or whisper. . . . You can
note everyone to whom Sir Andrew Ffoulkes or Lord Antony Dewhurst will
speak. You are absolutely beyond suspicion now. The Scarlet
Pimpernel will be at Lord Grenville's ball to-night. Find out who he
is, and I will pledge the word of France that your brother shall be
safe."
Chauvelin was putting the knife to her throat. Marguerite
felt herself entangled in one of those webs, from which she could hope
for no escape. A precious hostage was being held for her obedience:
for she knew that this man would never make an empty threat. No doubt
Armand was already signalled to the Committee of Public Safety as one
of the "suspect"; he would not be allowed to leave France again, and
would be ruthlessly struck, if she refused to obey Chauvelin. For a
moment--woman-like--she still hoped to temporise. She held out her
hand to this man, whom she now feared and hated.
"If I promise to help you in this matter, Chauvelin," she said
pleasantly, "will you give me that letter of St.
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