mirthfully；　light…heartedly；　and　the　first　words　that　escaped　his
  lips　were：
  〃Well；　I　am　dd！〃
  〃The　odds　are　against　you；　Sir　Percy；〃　said　Chauvelin　to　him　in
  English；　whilst　Heron　at　the　further　end　of　the　room　was　growling
  like　a　contented　beast。
  〃By　the　Lord；　sir；〃　said　Percy　with　perfect　sang…froid；　〃I　do
  believe　that　for　the　moment　they　are。〃
  〃Have　done；　my　menhave　done！〃　he　added；　turning　good…humouredly
  to　the　soldiers　round　him。　　〃I　never　fight　against　overwhelming
  odds。　　Twenty　to　one；　eh？　　I　could　lay　four　of　you　out　easily
  enough；　perhaps　even　six；　but　what　then？〃
  But　a　kind　of　savage　lust　seemed　to　have　rendered　these　men
  temporarily　mad；　and　they　were　being　egged　on　by　Heron。　　The
  mysterious　Englishman；　about　whom　so　many　eerie　tales　were　told！
  Well；　he　had　supernatural　powers；　and　twenty　to　one　might　be
  nothing　to　him　if　the　devil　was　on　his　side。　　Therefore　a　blow　on
  his　forearm　with　the　butt…end　of　a　bayonet　was　useful　for
  disabling　his　right　hand；　and　soon　the　left　arm　with　a　dislocated
  shoulder　hung　limp　by　his　side。　　Then　he　was　bound　with　cords。
  The　vein　of　luck　had　given　out。　　The　gambler　had　staked　more　than
  usual　and　had　lost；　but　he　knew　how　to　lose；　just　as　he　had　always
  known　how　to　win。
  〃Those　dd　brutes　are　trussing　me　like　a　fowl；〃　he　murmured　with
  irrepressible　gaiety　at　the　last。
  Then　the　wrench　on　his　bruised　arms　as　they　were　pulled　roughly
  back　by　the　cords　caused　the　veil　of　unconsciousness　to　gather
  over　his　eyes。
  〃And　Jeanne　was　safe；　Armand；〃　he　shouted　with　a　last　desperate
  effort；　〃those　devils　have　lied　to　you　and　tricked　you　into　this
  。。。　Since　yesterday　she　is　out　of　prison　。。。　in　the　house　。。。　you
  know　。。。。〃
  After　that　he　lost　consciousness。
  And　this　occurred　on　Tuesday；　January　21st；　in　the　year　1794；　or；
  in　accordance　with　the　new　calendar；　on　the　2nd　Pluviose；　year　II
  of　the　Republic。
  It　is　chronicled　in　the　Moniteur　of　the　3rd　Pluviose　that；　〃on
  the　previous　evening；　at　half…past　ten　of　the　clock；　the
  Englishman　known　as　the　Scarlet　Pimpernel；　who　for　three　years　has
  conspired　against　the　safety　of　the　Republic；　was　arrested　through
  the　patriotic　exertions　of　citizen　Chauvelin；　and　conveyed　to　the
  Conciergerie；　where　he　now　liessick；　but　closely　guarded。　Long
  live　the　Republic！〃
  PART　II
  CHAPTER　XXIV
  THE　NEWS
  The　grey　January　day　was　falling；　drowsy；　and　dull　into　the　arms
  of　night。
  Marguerite；　sitting　in　the　dusk　beside　the　fire　in　her　small
  boudoir；　shivered　a　little　as　she　drew　her　scarf　closer　round　her
  shoulders。
  Edwards；　the　butler；　entered　with　the　lamp。　　The　room　looked
  peculiarly　cheery　now；　with　the　delicate　white　panelling　of　the
  wall　glowing　tinder　the　soft　kiss　of　the　flickering　firelight　and
  the　steadier　glow　of　the　rose…shaded　lamp。
  〃Has　the　courier　not　arrived　yet；　Edwards？〃　asked　Marguerite；
  fixing　the　impassive　face　of　the　well…drilled　servant　with　her
  large　purple…rimmed　eyes。
  〃Not　yet；　m'lady；〃　he　replied　placidly。
  〃It　is　his　day；　is　it　not？〃
  〃Yes；　m'lady。　　And　the　forenoon　is　his　time。　　But　there　have　been
  heavy　rains；　and　the　roads　must　be　rare　muddy。　He　must　have　been
  delayed；　m'lady。〃
  〃Yes；　I　suppose　so；〃　she　said　listlessly。　　〃That　will　do；　Edwards。
  No；　don't　close　the　shutters。　　I'll　ring　presently。〃
  The　man　went　out　of　the　room　as　automatically　as　he　had　come。　　He
  closed　the　door　behind　him；　and　Marguerite　was　once　more　alone。
  She　picked　up　the　book　which　she　had　fingered　idly　before　the
  light　gave　out。　　She　tried　once　more　to　fix　her　attention　on　this
  tale　of　love　and　adventure　written　by　Mr。　Fielding；　but　she　had
  lost　the　thread　of　the　story；　and　there　was　a　mist　between　her
  eyes　and　the　printed　pages。
  With　an　impatient　gesture　she　threw　down　the　book　and　passed　her
  hand　across　her　eyes；　then　seemed　astonished　to　find　that　her　hand
  was　wet。
  She　rose　and　went　to　the　window。　　The　air　outside　had　been
  singularly　mild　all　day；　the　thaw　was　persisting；　and　a　south　wind
  came　across　the　Channelfrom　France。
  Marguerite　threw　open　the　casement　and　sat　down　on　the　wide　sill；
  leaning　her　head　against　the　window…frame；　and　gazing　out　into　the
  fast　gathering　gloom。　　From　far　away；　at　the　foot　of　the　gently
  sloping　lawns；　the　river　murmured　softly　in　the　night；　in　the
  borders　to　the　right　and　left　a　few　snowdrops　still　showed　like
  tiny　white　specks　through　the　surrounding　darkness。　　Winter　had
  begun　the　process　of　slowly　shedding　its　mantle；　coquetting　with
  Spring；　who　still　lingered　in　the　land　of　Infinity。　　Gradually　the
  shadows　drew　closer　and　closer；　the　reeds　and　rushes　on　the　river
  bank　were　the　first　to　sink　into　their　embrace；　then　the　big
  cedars　on　the　lawn；　majestic　and　defiant；　but　yielding　still
  unconquered　to　the　power　of　night。
  The　tiny　stars　of　snowdrop　blossoms　vanished　one　by　one；　and　at
  last　the　cool；　grey　ribbon　of　the　river　surface　was　wrapped　under
  the　mantle　of　evening。
  Only　the　south　wind　lingered　on；　soughing　gently　in　the　drowsy
  reeds；　whispering　among　the　branches　of　the　cedars；　and　gently
  stirring　the　tender　corollas　of　the　sleeping　snowdrops。
  Marguerite　seemed　to　open　out　her　lungs　to　its　breath。　It　had　come
  all　the　way　from　France；　and　on　its　wings　had　brought　something　of
  Percya　murmur　as　if　he　had　spokena　memory　that　was　as
  intangible　as　a　dream。
  She　shivered　again；　though　of　a　truth　it　was　not　cold。　The
  courier's　delay　had　completely　unsettled　her　nerves。　Twice　a　week
  he　came　especially　from　Dover；　and　always　he　brought　some　message；
  some　token　which　Percy　had　contrived　to　send　from　Paris。　　They
  were　like　tiny　scraps　of　dry　bread　thrown　to　a　starving　woman；　but
  they　did　just　help　to　keep　her　heart　alivethat　poor；　aching；
  disappointed　heart　that　so　longed　for　enduring　happiness　which　it
  could　never　get。
  The　man　whom　she　loved　with　all　her　soul；　her　mind　and　her　body；
  did　not　belong　to　her；　he　belonged　to　suffering　humanity　over
  there　in　terror…stricken　France；　where　the　cries　of　the　innocent；
  the　persecuted；　the　wretched　called　louder　to　him　than　she　in　her
  love　could　do。
  He　had　been　away　three　months　now；　during　which　time　her　starving
  heart　had　fed　on　its　memories；　and　the　happiness　of　a　brief　visit
  from　him　six　weeks　ago；　whenquite　unexpectedlyhe　had　appeared
  before　her　。。。　home　between　two　desperate　adventures　that　had
  given　life　and　freedom　to　a　number　of　innocent　people；　and　nearly
  cost　him　hisand　she　had　lain　in　his　arms　in　a　swoon　of　perfect
  happiness。
  But　be　had　gone　away　again　as　suddenly　as　he　had　come；　and　for　six
  weeks　now　she　had　lived　partly　in　anticipation　of　the　courier　with
  messages　from　him；　and　partly　on　the　fitful　joy　engendered　by
  these　messages。　　To…day　she　had　not　even　that；　and　the　disappointment
  seemed　just　now　more　than　she　could　bear。
  She　felt　unaccountably　restless；　and　could　she　but　have　analysed
  her　feelingshad　she　dared　so　to　doshe　would　have　realised　that
  the　weight　which　oppressed　her　heart　so　that　she　could　hardly
  breathe；　was　one　of　vague　yet　dark　foreboding。
  She　closed　the　window　and　returned　to　her　seat　by　the　fire；　taking
  up　her　hook　with　the　strong　resolution　not　to　allow　her　nerves　to
  get　the　better　of　her。　　But　it　was　difficult　to　pin　one's
  attention　down　to　the　adventures　of　Master　Tom　Jones　when　one's
  mind　was　fully　engrossed　with　those　of　Sir　Percy　Blakeney。
  The　sound　of　carriage　wheels　on　the　gravelled　forecourt　in　the
  front　of　the　house　suddenly　awakened　her　drowsy　senses。　　She　threw
  down　the　book；　and　with　trembling　hands　clutched　the　arms　of　her
  chair；　straining　her　ears　to　listen。　　A　carriage　at　this　hourand
  on　this　damp　winter's　evening！　　She　racked　her　mind　wondering　who
  it　could　be。
  Lady　Ffoulkes　was　in　London；　she　knew。　　Sir　Andrew；　of　course；　was
  in　Paris。　　His　Royal　Highness；　ever　a　faithful　visitor；　would
  surely　not　venture　out　to　Richmond　in　this　inclement　weatherand
  the　courier　always　came　on　horseback。
  There　was　a　murmur　of　voices；　that　of　Edwards；　mechanical　and
  placid；　could　be　heard　quite　distinctly　saying：
  〃I'm　sure　that　her　ladyship　will　be　at　home　for　you；　m'lady。　　But
  I'll　go　and　ascertain。〃
  Marguerite　ran　to　the　door　and　with　joyful　eagerness　tore　it　open。
  〃Suzanne！〃　she　called　〃my　little　Suzanne！　　I　thought　you　were　in
  London。　　Come　up　quickly！　　In　the　boudoiryes。　　Oh！　what　good
  fortune　hath　brought　you？〃
  Suzanne　flew　into　her　arms；　holding　the　friend　whom　she　loved　so
  well　close　and　closer　to　her　heart；　trying　to　hide　her　face；　which
  was　wet　with　tears；　in　the　folds　of　Marguerite's　kerchief。
  〃Come　inside；　my　darling；〃　said　Marguerite。　〃Why；　how　cold　your
  little　hands　are！〃
  She　was　on　the　point　of　turning　back　to　her　boudoir；　drawing　Lady
  Ffoulkes　by　the　hand；　when　suddenly　she　caught　sight　of　Sir　Andrew；
  who　stood　at　a　little　distance　from　her；　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。
  〃Sir　Andrew！〃　she　exclaimed　with　unstinted　gladness。
  Then　she　paused。　　The　cry　of　welcome　died　on　her　lips；　leaving
  them　dry　and　parted。　　She　suddenly　felt　as　if　some　fearful　talons
  had　gripped　her　heart　and　were　tearing　at　it　with　sharp；　long
  nails；　the　blood　flew　from　her　cheeks　and　from　her　limbs；　leaving
  her　with　a　sense　of　icy　numbness。
  She　backed