young friend some of that buoyant hope which still clung to her heart.
But he shook his head sadly.

"Silent again, Sir Andrew?" she said with some impatience.
"Why do you shake your head and look so glum?"

"Faith, Madame," he replied, "`tis only because in making your
rose-coloured plans, you are forgetting the most important factor."

"What in the world do you mean?--I am forgetting nothing. . . .
What factor do you mean?" she added with more impatience.

"It stands six foot odd high," replied Sir Andrew, quietly,
"and hath name Percy Blakeney."

"I don't understand," she murmured.
"Do you think that Blakeney would leave Calais without having

accomplished what he set out to do?"
"You mean. . .?"

"There's the old Comte de Tournay. . ."
"The Comte. . .?" she murmured.

"And St. Just. . .and others. . ."
"My brother!" she said with a heart-broken sob of anguish.

"Heaven help me, but I fear I had forgotten."
"Fugitives as they are, these men at this moment await with

perfect confidence and unshaken faith the arrival of the Scarlet
Pimpernel, who has pledged his honour to take them safely across the

Channel.
Indeed, she had forgotten! With the sublimeselfishness of a

woman who loves with her whole heart, she had in the last twenty-four
hours had no thought save for him. His precious, noble life, his

danger--he, the loved one, the brave hero, he alone dwelt in her mind.
"My brother!" she murmured, as one by one the heavy tears

gathered in her eyes, as memory came back to her of Armand, the
companion and darling of her childhood, the man for whom she had

committed the deadly sin, which had so hopelessly imperilled her brave
husband's life.

"Sir Percy Blakeney would not be the trusted, honoured leader
of a score of English gentlemen," said Sir Andrew, proudly, "if he

abandoned those who placed their trust in him. As for breaking his
word, the very thought is preposterous!"

There was silence for a moment or two. Marguerite had buried
her face in her hands, and was letting the tears slowly trickle

through her trembling fingers. The young man said nothing; his heart
ached for this beautiful woman in her awful grief. All along he had

felt the terrible IMPASSE in which her own rash act had plunged them
all. He knew his friend and leader so well, with his reckless daring,

his mad bravery, his worship of his own word of honour. Sir Andrew
knew that Blakeney would brave any danger, run the wildest risks

sooner than break it, and with Chauvelin at his very heels, would make
a final attempt, however desperate, to rescue those who trusted in him.

"Faith, Sir Andrew," said Marguerite at last, making brave
efforts to dry her tears, "you are right, and I would not now shame

myself by trying to dissuade him from doing his duty. As you say, I
should plead in vain. God grant him strength and ability," she added

fervently and resolutely, "to outwit his pursuers. He will not refuse
to take you with him, perhaps, when he starts on his noble work;

between you, you will have cunning as well as valour! God guard you
both! In the meanwhile I think we should lose no time. I still believe

that his safety depends upon his knowing that Chauvelin is on his track."
"Undoubtedly. He has wonderful resources at his command. As

soon as he is aware of his danger he will exercise more caution: his
ingenuity is a veritable miracle."

"Then, what say you to a voyage of reconnaissance in the
village whilst I wait here against his coming!--You might come across

Percy's track and thus save valuable time. If you find him, tell him
to beware!--his bitterest enemy is on his heels!"

"But this is such a villainous hole for you to wait in."
"Nay, that I do not mind!--But you might ask our surly host if

he could let me wait in another room, where I could be safer from the
prying eyes of any chance traveller. Offer him some ready money, so

that he should not fail to give me word the moment the tall Englishman
returns."

She spike quite calmly, even cheerfully now, thinking out her
plans, ready for the worst if need be; she would show no more

weakness, she would prove herself worthy of him, who was about to give
his life for the sake of his fellow-men.

Sir Andrew obeyed her without further comment. Instinctively
he felt that hers now was the stronger mind; he was willing to give

himself over to her guidance, to become the hand, whilst she was the
directing hand.

He went to the door of the inner room, through which Brogard
and his wife had disappeared before, and knocked; as usual, he was

answered by a salvo of muttered oaths.
"Hey! friend Brogard!" said the man peremptorily, "my lady friend

would wish to rest here awhile. Could you give her the use of
another room? She would wish to be alone."

He took some money out of his pocket, and allowed it to jingle
significantly in his hand. Brogard had opened the door, and listened,

with his usual surly apathy, to the young man's request. At the sight
of the gold, however, his lazy attitude relaxed slightly; he took his

pipe from his mouth and shuffled into the room.
He then pointed over his shoulder at the attic up in the wall.

"She can wait up there!" he said with a grunt. "It's comfortable,
and I have no other room."

"Nothing could be better," said Marguerite in English; she at
once realised the advantages such a position hidden from view would

give her. "Give him the money, Sir Andrew; I shall be quite happy up
there, and can see everything without being seen."

She nodded to Brogard, who condescended to go up to the attic,
and to shake up the straw that lay on the floor.

"May I entreat you, madam, to do nothing rash," said Sir
Andrew, as Marguerite prepared in her turn to ascend the rickety

flight of steps. "Remember this place is infested with spies. Do
not, I beg of you, reveal yourself to Sir Percy, unless you are

absolutely certain that you are alone with him."
Even as he spoke, he felt how unnecessary was this caution:

Marguerite was as calm, as clear-headed as any man. There was no fear
of her doing anything that was rash.

"Nay," she said with a slight attempt at cheerfulness, "that I
can faithfully promise you. I would not jeopardise my husband's life,

nor yet his plans, by speaking to him before strangers. Have no fear,
I will watch my opportunity, and serve him in the manner I think he

needs it most."
Brogard had come down the steps again, and Marguerite was

ready to go up to her safe retreat.
"I dare not kiss your hand, madam," said Sir Andrew, as she

began to mount the steps, "since I am your lacquey, but I pray you be
of good cheer. If I do not come across Blakeney in half an hour, I

shall return, expecting to find him here."
"Yes, that will be best. We can afford to wait for half an

hour. Chauvelin cannot possibly be here before that. God grant that
either you or I may have seen Percy by then. Good luck to you,

friend! Have no fear for me."
Lightly she mounted the rickety wooden steps that led to the

attic. Brogard was taking no further heed of her. She could make
herself comfortable there or not as she chose. Sir Andrew watched her

until she had reached the curtains across, and the young man noted
that she was singularly well placed there, for seeing and hearing,

whilst remaining unobserved.
He had paid Brogard well; the surly old innkeeper would have no object

in betraying her. Then Sir Andrew prepared to go. At the door he
turned once again and looked up at the loft. Through the ragged