The groom stood respectfully beside his mistress, then he
handed her the sealed letter.
"What is that?" asked Marguerite.
"Just come by runner, my lady."
Marguerite took the letter mechanically, and turned it over in
her trembling fingers.
"Who sent it?" she said.
"The runner said, my lady," replied the groom, "that his
orders were to deliver this, and that your ladyship would understand
from whom it came."
Marguerite tore open the envelope. Already her instinct told
her what it contained, and her eyes only glanced at it mechanically.
It was a letter by Armand St. Just to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes--the
letter which Chauvelin's spies had stolen at "The Fisherman's Rest,"
and which Chauvelin had held as a rod over her to enforce her
obedience.
Now he had kept his word--he had sent her back St. Just's
compromising letter. . .for he was on the track of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Marguerite's senses reeled, her very soul seemed to be leaving
her body; she tottered, and would have fallen but for Suzanne's arm
round her waist. With superhuman effort she regained control over
herself--there was yet much to be done.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249