Disguised, if you will agree to it, as
my lacquey, you will, I think, escape detection."
"I am entirely at your service, Madame," rejoined the young
man earnestly. "I trust to God that you will sight the DAY DREAM
before we reach Calais. With Chauvelin at his heels, every step the
Scarlet Pimpernel takes on French soil is fraught with danger."
"God grant it, Sir Andrew. But now, farewell. We meet
to-night at Dover! It will be a race between Chauvelin and me across
the Channel to-night--and the prize--the life of the Scarlet
Pimpernel."
He kissed her hand, and then escorted her to her chair. A
quarter of an hour later she was back at the "Crown" inn, where her
coach and horses were ready and waiting for her. The next moment they
thundered along the London streets, and then straight on to the Dover
road at maddening speed.
She had no time for despair now. She was up and doing and had
no leisure to think. With Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as her companion and
ally, hope had once again revived in her heart.
God would be merciful. He would not allow so appalling a
crime to be committed, as the death of a brave man, through the hand
of a woman who loved him, and worshipped him, and who would gladly
have died for his sake.
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