"Fall in behind then. Let your comrade take both your horses back
to Calais. You won't want them. Keep beside the cart, and direct
the Jew to drive straight ahead; then stop him, within a quarter of
a league of the footpath; see that he takes the most direct road."
Whilst Chauvelin spoke, Desgas and his men were fast
approaching, and Marguerite could hear their footsteps within a
hundred yards behind her now. She thought it unsafe to stay where she
was, and unnecessary too, as she had heard enough. She seemed
suddenly to have lost all faculty even for suffering: her heart, her
nerves, her brain seemed to have become numb after all these hours of
ceaseless anguish, culminating in this awful despair.
For now there was absolutely not the faintest hope. Within
two short leagues of this spot, the fugitives were waiting for their
brave deliverer. He was on his way, somewhere on this lonely road,
and presently he would join them; then the well-laid trap would close,
two dozen men, led by one whose hatred was as deadly as his cunning
was malicious, would close round the small band of fugitives, and
their daring leader.
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