"Now," he was saying in a low and peremptory whisper, "where
is the Pere Blanchard's hut?"

"About eight hundred meters from here, along the footpath,"
said the soldier who had lately been directing the party, "and

half-way down the cliff."
"Very good. You shall lead us. Before we begin to descend the cliff,

you shall creep down to the hut, as noiselessly as possible, and
ascertain if the traitorroyalists are there? Do you understand?"

"I understand, citoyen."
"Now listen very attentively, all of you," continued

Chauvelin, impressively, and addressing the soldiers collectively,
"for after this we may not be able to exchange another word, so

remember every syllable I utter, as if your very lives depended on
your memory. Perhaps they do," he added drily.

"We listen, citoyen," said Desgas, "and a soldier of the Republic
never forgets an order."

"You, who have crept up to the hut, will try to peep inside.
If an Englishman is there with those traitors, a man who is tall above

the average, or who stoops as if he would disguise his height, then
give a sharp, quick whistle as a signal to your comrades. All of

you," he added, once more speaking to the soldiers collectively, "then
quickly surround and rush into the hut, and each seize one of the men

there, before they have time to draw their firearms; if any of them
struggle, shoot at their legs or arms, but on no account kill the tall

man. Do you understand?"
"We understand, citoyen."

"The man who is tall above the average is probably also strong
above the average; it will take four or five of you at least to

overpower him."
There was a little pause, then Chauvelin continued,--

"If the royalisttraitors are still alone, which is more than
likely to be the case, then warn your comrades who are lying in wait

there, and all of you creep and take cover behind the rocks and
boulders round the hut, and wait there, in dead silence, until the

tall Englishman arrives; then only rush the hut, when he is safely
within its doors. But remember that you must be as silent as the wolf

is at night, when he prowls around the pens. I do not wish those
royalists to be on the alert--the firing of a pistol, a shriek or call

on their part would be sufficient, perhaps, to warn the tall personage
to keep clear of the cliffs, and of the hut, and," he added

emphatically, "it is the tall Englishman whom it is your duty to
capture tonight."

"You shall be implicitly obeyed, citoyen."
"Then get along as noiselessly as possible, and I will follow you."

"What about the Jew, citoyen?" asked Desgas, as silently like
noiseless shadows, one by one the soldiers began to creep along the

rough and narrow footpath.
"Ah, yes; I had forgotten about the Jew," said Chauvelin, and,

turning towards the Jew, he called him peremptorily.
"Here, you. . .Aaron, Moses, Abraham, or whatever your

confounded name may be," he said to the old man, who had quietly stood
beside his lean nag, as far away from the soldiers as possible.

"Benjamin Rosenbaum, so it please your Honour," he replied humbly.
"It does not please me to hear your voice, but it does please

me to give you certain orders, which you will find it wise to obey."
"So it please your Honour. . ."

"Hold your confounded tongue. You shall stay here, do you
hear? with your horse and cart until our return. You are on no

account to utter the faintest sound, or to even breathe louder than
you can help; nor are you, on any considerationwhatever, to leave

your post, until I give you orders to do so. Do you understand?"
"But your Honour--" protested the Jew pitiably.

"There is no question of `but' or of any argument," said
Chauvelin, in a tone that made the timid old man tremble from heat to

foot. "If, when I return, I do not find you here, I most solemnly
assure you that, wherever you may try to hide yourself, I can find

you, and that punishment swift, sure and terrible, will sooner or
later overtake you. Do you hear me?"

"But your Excellency. . ."
"I said, do you hear me?"

The soldiers had all crept away; the three men stood alone together
in the dark and lonely road, with Marguerite there, behind the hedge,

listening to Chauvelin's orders, as she would to her own death sentence.
"I heard your Honour," protested the Jew again, while he tried

to draw nearer to Chauvelin, "and I swear by Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
that I would obey your Honour most absolutely, and that I would not

move from this place until your Honour once more deigned to shed the
light of your countenance upon your humble servant; but remember, your

Honour, I am a poor man; my nerves are not as strong as those of a
young soldier. If midnight marauders should come prowling round this

lonely road, I might scream or run in my fright! And is my life to be
forfeit, is some terrible punishment to come on my poor old head for

that which I cannot help?
The Jew seemed in real distress; he was shaking from head to foot.

Clearly he was not the man to be left by himself on this lonely road.
The man spoke truly; he might unwittingly, in sheer terror, utter the

shriek that might prove a warning to the wily Scarlet Pimpernel.
Chauvelin reflected for a moment.

"Will your horse and cart be safe alone, here, do you think?"
he asked roughly.

"I fancy, citoyen," here interposed Desgas, "that they will be
safer without that dirty, cowardly Jew than with him. There seems no

doubt that, if he gets scared, he will either make a bolt of it, or
shriek his head off."

"But what am I to do with the brute?"
"Will you send him back to Calais, citoyen?"

"No, for we shall want him to drive back the wounded presently,"
said Chauvelin, with grim significance.

There was a pause again--Desgas waiting for the decision of
his chief, and the old Jew whining beside his nag.

"Well, you lazy, lumbering old coward," said Chauvelin at
last, "you had better shuffle along behind us. Here, Citoyen Desgas,

tie this handkerchieftightly round the fellow's mouth."
Chauvelin handed a scarf to Desgas, who solemnly began winding

it round the Jew's mouth. Meekly Benjamin Rosenbaum allowed himself
to be gagged; he, evidently, preferred this uncomfortable state to

that of being left alone, on the dark St. Martin Road. Then the three
men fell in line.

"Quick!" said Chauvelin, impatiently, "we have already wasted
much valuable time."

And the firm footsteps of Chauvelin and Desgas, the shuffling
gait of the old Jew, soon died away along the footpath.

Marguerite had not lost a single one of Chauvelin's words of
command. Her every nerve was strained to completely grasp the

situation first, then to make a final appeal to those wits which had
so often been called the sharpest in Europe, and which alone might be

of service now.
Certainly the situation was desperate enough; a tiny band of

unsuspecting men, quietly awaiting the arrival of their rescuer, who
was equallyunconscious of the trap laid for them all. It seemed so

horrible, this net, as it were drawn in a circle, at dead of night, on
a lonely beach, round a few defenceless men, defenceless because they

were tricked and unsuspecting; of these one was the husband she
idolised, another the brother she loved. She vaguely wondered who the

others were, who were also calmlywaiting for the Scarlet Pimpernel,
while death lurked behind every boulder of the cliffs.

For the moment she could do nothing but follow the soldiers
and Chauvelin. She feared to lose her way, or she would have rushed

forward and found that wooden hut, and perhaps been in time to warn
the fugitives and their brave deliverer yet.