"There are nineteen of us ready to lay down our lives for your
husband, Lady Blakeney," Sir Andrew had said to her; and as she looked
at the forehead, low, but square and broad, the eyes, blue, yet
deep-set and intense, the whole aspect of the man, of indomitable
energy, hiding, behind a perfectly acted comedy, his almost superhuman
strength of will and marvellous ingenuity, she understood the
fascination which he exercised over his followers, for had he not also
cast his spells over her heart and her imagination?
Chauvelin, who was trying to conceal his impatience beneath
his usual urbane manner, took a quick look at his watch. Desgas
should not be long: another two or three minutes, and this impudent
Englishman would be secure in the keeping of half a dozen of Captain
Jutley's most trusted men.
"You are on your way to Paris, Sir Percy?" he asked carelessly.
"Odd's life, no," replied Blakeney, with a laugh. "Only as
far as Lille--not Paris for me. . .beastly uncomfortable place Paris,
just now. . .eh, Monsieur Chaubertin. . .beg pardon. . .Chauvelin!"
"Not for an English gentleman like yourself, Sir Percy,"
rejoined Chauvelin, sarcastically, "who takes no interest in the
conflict that is raging there.
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