All these lives and that of her husband, lay in Marguerite's hands;
these she must save, if human pluck and ingenuity were equal to the task.
Unfortunately, she could not do all this quite alone. Once in
Calais she would not know where to find her husband, whilst Chauvelin,
in stealing the papers at Dover, had obtained the whole itinerary.
Above every thing, she wished to warn Percy.
She knew enough about him by now to understand that he would
never abandon those who trusted in him, that he would not turn his
back from danger, and leave the Comte de Tournay to fall into the
bloodthirsty hands that knew of no mercy. But if he were warned, he
might form new plans, be more wary, more prudent. Unconsciously, he
might fall into a cunning trap, but--once warned--he might yet succeed.
And if he failed--if indeed Fate, and Chauvelin, with all the
resources at his command, proved too strong for the daring plotter
after all--then at least she would be there by his side, to comfort,
love and cherish, to cheat death perhaps at the last by making it seem
sweet, if they died both together, locked in each other's arms, with
the supreme happiness of knowing that passion had responded to
passion, and that all misunderstandings were at an end.
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