Chauvelin. . . . I vow I never
thought of meeting you here."
Chauvelin, who had been in the very act of conveying soup to
his mouth, fairly choked. His thin face became absolutely purple, and
a violent fit of coughing saved this cunning representative of France
from betraying the most boundless surprise he had ever experienced.
There was no doubt that this bold move on the part of the enemy had
been wholly unexpected, as far as he was concerned: and the daring
impudence of it completely nonplussed him for the moment.
Obviously he had not taken the precaution of having the inn
surrounded with soldiers. Blakeney had evidently guessed that much,
and no doubt his resourceful brain had already formed some plan by
which he could turn this unexpected interview to account.
Marguerite up in the loft had not moved. She had made a
solemn promise to Sir Andrew not to speak to her husband before
strangers, and she had sufficient self-concontrol not to throw herself
unreasoningly and impulsively across his plans. To sit still and
watch these two men together was a terrible trial of fortitude.
Marguerite had heard Chauvelin give the orders for the patrolling of
all the roads.
Pages:
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318