El Dorado, Baroness Orczy [read the beginning after the end novel .TXT] 📗

was farthest away from the recess, and the table at which the prisoner was sitting.

Here the noise and hubbub that went on constantly in the guard room would effectually drown a whispered conversation. Chauvelin called to the sergeant to hand him a couple of chairs over the barrier. These he placed against the wall opposite the opening, and beckoning Héron to sit down, he did likewise, placing himself close to his colleague.

From where the two men now sat they could see both into the guardroom opposite them and into the recess at the furthermost end of the cell.

“First of all,” began Chauvelin after a while, and sinking his voice to a whisper, “let me understand you thoroughly, citizen Héron. Do you want the death of the Englishman, either today or tomorrow, either in this prison or on the guillotine? For that now is easy of accomplishment; or do you want, above all, to get hold of little Capet?”

“It is Capet I want,” growled Héron savagely under his breath. “Capet! Capet! My own neck is dependent on my finding Capet. Curse you, have I not told you that clearly enough?”

“You have told it me very clearly, citizen Héron; but I wished to make assurance doubly sure, and also make you understand that I, too, want the Englishman to betray little Capet into your hands. I want that more even than I do his death.”

“Then in the name of hell, citizen, give me your advice.”

“My advice to you, citizen Héron, is this: Give your prisoner now just a sufficiency of food to revive him⁠—he will have had a few moments’ sleep⁠—and when he has eaten, and, mayhap, drunk a glass of wine, he will, no doubt, feel a recrudescence of strength, then give him pen and ink and paper. He must, as he says, write to one of his followers, who, in his turn, I suppose, will communicate with the others, bidding them to be prepared to deliver up little Capet to us; the letter must make it clear to that crowd of English gentlemen that their beloved chief is giving up the uncrowned King of France to us in exchange for his own safety. But I think you will agree with me, citizen Héron, that it would not be over-prudent on our part to allow that same gallant crowd to be forewarned too soon of the proposed doings of their chief. Therefore, I think, we’ll explain to the prisoner that his follower, whom he will first apprise of his intentions, shall start with us tomorrow on our expedition, and accompany us until its last stage, when, if it is found necessary, he may be sent on ahead, strongly escorted of course, and with personal messages from the gallant Scarlet Pimpernel to the members of his League.”

“What will be the good of that?” broke in Héron viciously. “Do you want one of his accursed followers to be ready to give him a helping hand on the way if he tries to slip through our fingers?”

“Patience, patience, my good Héron!” rejoined Chauvelin with a placid smile. “Hear me out to the end. Time is precious. You shall offer what criticism you will when I have finished, but not before.”

“Go on, then. I listen.”

“I am not only proposing that one member of the Scarlet Pimpernel League shall accompany us tomorrow,” continued Chauvelin, “but I would also force the prisoner’s wife⁠—Marguerite Blakeney⁠—to follow in our train.”

“A woman? Bah! What for?”

“I will tell you the reason of this presently. In her case I should not let the prisoner know beforehand that she too will form a part of our expedition. Let this come as a pleasing surprise for him. She could join us on our way out of Paris.”

“How will you get hold of her?”

“Easily enough. I know where to find her. I traced her myself a few days ago to a house in the Rue de Charonne, and she is not likely to have gone away from Paris while her husband was at the Conciergerie. But this is a digression, let me proceed more consecutively. The letter, as I have said, being written tonight by the prisoner to one of his followers, I will myself see that it is delivered into the right hands. You, citizen Héron, will in the meanwhile make all arrangements for the journey. We ought to start at dawn, and we ought to be prepared, especially during the first fifty leagues of the way, against organised attack in case the Englishman leads us into an ambush.”

“Yes. He might even do that, curse him!” muttered Héron.

“He might, but it is unlikely. Still it is best to be prepared. Take a strong escort, citizen, say twenty or thirty men, picked and trained soldiers who would make short work of civilians, however well-armed they might be. There are twenty members⁠—including the chief⁠—in that Scarlet Pimpernel League, and I do not quite see how from this cell the prisoner could organise an ambuscade against us at a given time. Anyhow, that is a matter for you to decide. I have still to place before you a scheme which is a measure of safety for ourselves and our men against ambush as well as against trickery, and which I feel sure you will pronounce quite adequate.”

“Let me hear it, then!”

“The prisoner will have to travel by coach, of course. You can travel with him, if you like, and put him in irons, and thus avert all chances of his escaping on the road. But”⁠—and here Chauvelin made a long pause, which had the effect of holding his colleague’s attention still more closely⁠—“remember that we shall have his wife and one of his friends with us. Before we finally leave Paris tomorrow we will explain to the prisoner that at the first attempt to escape on his part, at the slightest suspicion that he has tricked us for his own ends or is leading us into an ambush⁠—at the slightest suspicion, I say⁠—you, citizen Héron, will order