It was Desgas and his men. Another three minutes and they
would be here! Another three minutes and the awful thing would have
occurred: the brave eagle would have fallen in the ferret's trap!
She would have moved now and screamed, but she dared not; for whilst she
heard the soldiers approaching, she was looking at Percy and watching
his every movement. He was standing by the table whereon the remnants
of the supper, plates, glasses, spoons, salt and pepper-pots were
scattered pell-mell. His back was turned to Chauvelin and he was
still prattling along in his own affected and inane way, but from his
pocket he had taken his snuff-box, and quickly and suddenly he emptied
the contents of the pepper-pot into it.
Then he again turned with an inane laugh to Chauvelin,--
"Eh? Did you speak, sir?"
Chauvelin had been too intent on listening to the sound of
those approaching footsteps, to notice what his cunning adversary had
been doing. He now pulled himself together, trying to look
unconcerned in the very midst of his anticipated triumph.
"No," he said presently, "that is--as you were saying, Sir Percy--?"
"I was saying," said Blakeney, going up to Chauvelin, by the
fire, "that the Jew in Piccadilly has sold me better snuff this time
than I have ever tasted.
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