The Scarlet Pimpernel

arden Theatre, the first of the autumn se

s above. Gluck's ORPHEUS made a strong appeal to the more intellectual portions of the house, whilst the fashionable women, th

the audience, which had hung spell-bound on the magic strains of the great maestro, seemed collectively to breathe a long sigh of satisfaction, previous to letting loose its hundreds of waggish and frivolous tongues. In the smart orchestra boxes many well-known faces were to be seen. M

shrewd, sarcastic face and deep-set eyes, attentive to the music, keenly critical of the audience, dressed in immaculate bl

st EMIGRES who, persecuted by the relentless, revolutionary faction of their country, had found a peaceful refuge in England. On these faces sorrow and care were deeply writ; the women especially

nly trying by witty sallies and somewhat broad jokes, to bring a smile to the Comtesse's sad mouth. Behind her sat little Suzanne and the Vicomte, both silent and somewhat shy among so many strangers. Suzanne's eyes seemed wistful; when she first entered the crowded house,

head of the Secretary of State appeared in the doorway of the box, "you could not arrive more A PR

had come forward and was sh

massacres continue; Paris literally reeks with bloo

chair, listening horror-struck to this brief and graphi

and my poor husband still in that awful country. It is terrible for me to be

nvent won't make your husband safe, and you have your children to consi

d manner would not have misfitted a jockey, had a heart of gold, and hid the most genuine sympathy a

me yesterday that the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel had pledg

hat is my only hope. I saw Lord Hasting

worn, that they surely will accomplish. Ah!" added the old di

e still young enough to turn your back on that French

t in serving our country we must put prejudices aside. M.

u don't call those bloodthirsty ruff

for England to break off diplomatic relations with France, and we cannot th

nd you'll find-an I'm much mistaken, that he'll concern himself little with such diplomacy, beyond trying to d

lips, "that if this Chauvelin wishes to do us misc

face towards the Comtesse, "you cannot afford to put on the hoity-toity airs you French aristocrats are so fond of. Lady Blakeney may or may not be in sympathy with those Ruffians in France; she may or may not have had anything to do with the arrest and condemnation of St. Cyr, or whatever

Lady Portarles' led the Comtesse de Tournay, remained unspoken, for the curtain had just rise

e Blakeney had just entered, accompanied by her husband, and looking divinely pretty beneath the wealth of her golden, reddish curls, slightly besprinkled with powder, and tied back at the nape of her graceful neck with a gigantic black bow. Always dressed in the very latest vagary of fashion, Marguerite alone among the ladies that night had discarded the cro

of all those present whom she knew. Many bowed to her as she did so,

sic, her exquisite little hand toying with a small jewelled fan, her regal head, her throat, arms and neck cove

and lit up the smile that lurked around the lips. She was after all but five-and-twenty, in the hey day of youth, the darling of a brilliant throng, adored, FETED, petted, cheri

isillusionments, forgot her vanished love-dreams, forgot even the lazy, good-humoured nonentity

to pay homage to the queen of fashion. Sir Percy had strolled away, to talk to more congenial friends probably. Marguerite did not even wonder whither he had gone-she cared

the door roused he

me impatience, without turn

ow, without pausing for that impatient "Come in," he quietly slipped in

u, citoyenne,"

ly, in alarm, which was

ittle laugh, "your presence is entirely inopportune. I

isper in her ear, without disturbing the audience, and without being seen, in the dark background of the box. "This is my only opportunity," he repeat

tunity then. I am going to Lord Grenville's ball to-night after the

ficient for me," he rejoined placidly, "and I think tha

of snuff, yet there was something in his attitude, something in those pale, foxy eyes, which seemed to freeze the blood

id gallantly, "only an

essly by, ready to spring, yet waiting with that feline sense o

r, St. Just,

d to be watching the stage intently, but Chauvelin was a keen observer; he noticed the sudden rigidity of

ce 'tis one of your imaginary plots, you'd best go

the "Che faro" to an audience that hung spellbound upon the prima donna's lips. Chauvelin did not move from

and irrelevantly, and with

nne?" he rejo

my br

I think, will interest you, but f

e still held her head steadily averted from him, that h

t I could rely on you, but you gave me your answer. . . . Since then the exigencies of my own aff

id lightly; "the music is entrancing, and t

hich revealed another of those subtle schemes for the escape of a batch of French aristocrats-that traitor de Tournay amongst others-all organized by that arch-meddler, the Sc

him with marked impatience; she now

nought about your schemes or about the Scarlet Pimp

rbably. "Two gentlemen, Lord Antony Dewhurst and Sir Andrew Ffo

I saw the

Comtesse de Tournay and her children across the Channel. When the two young men were alone, my spies forced their way

rudent? . . . The very thought struck her with nameless terror. Still she

merrily. "Robbery and violence!-in England!-in a cro

they would have gone to jail, or even to the gallows, without a word of protest or indiscretion; at any rate it was

e papers?" she

nts . . . enough, I think, to thwart their projected COUP for the moment, it would only be

were before, aren't you? and you can let me enjoy the last strophe of the ARIA. Faith!" she

he papers there was a letter to Sir Andrew

l? A

th the enemies of France, but actually a helper, if

me, to be prepared for it, to have all her wits about her-those wits which had been nicknamed the keenest in Europe. Even now she did not flinch. She knew that Chauvelin had spoken the tru

with her own eyes; and Chauvelin would hold that letter for purposes of his own, until it suited him to destroy it or to make

t was some imaginary plot. . . . Armand in league with that enigmatic Scarlet Pimpernel! . . . Armand busy help

with the same unruffled calm, "I must assure you that St.

guerite sat, straight upright, rigid and inert, trying to think,

wing in her classic garb, but in approved eighteenth-century fa

e all along, "Chauvelin, my friend, shall we try to understand one another. It seems that my wits have become rusty by contac

toyenne . . . all the more dang

ould now force me to do some spying work for you in

e can be no question of force, and the service which I would ask of you, in

alled over here," she said drily.

win the free pardon for Armand St.

t is

apers which were found about the person of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes there was a tiny note. S

ry moment when they were attacked by Chauvelin's minions. Marguerite took it mechanically and stooped to read it

necessary. You have all instructions for the 2nd. If y

it mean?"

oyenne, and you

re in the corner, a s

es

nd G.'s ball means Grenville's ball. . . . He

found this tiny scrap of paper, my intention was that they should be in London, in time to attend my Lord Grenville's ball. You see, do you not? that they must have a great deal to say to their chief . . . and thus they will have an opportunity of speaking to him to-night, just as he directed them to do. Therefore, this morning, those two

ken . . . you take hold of it . . . then you wring its neck . . . it's only the chicken who does not find it quite s

e of saving the brother you love fro

r eyes at last grew moist, as

what do you want me to do, Chauvelin?" she said, with a world of despair in

tablishing the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel. . . . You are going to the ball anon. . . . Watch for me there, citoyenne, watch and listen. . . . You can tell me if you hear a chance word or whisper. . . . You can note everyone to whom Sir An

: for she knew that this man would never make an empty threat. No doubt Armand was already signalled to the Committee of Public Safety as one of the "suspect"; he would not be allowed to leave Fr

, Chauvelin," she said pleasantly, "will

toyenne," he replied with a sarcastic smile,

not tr

St. Just's life is forfeit to his countr

elp you," she pleaded, "

eed," he said quietly, "for

-powerful, he held the beloved life in the hollow of his hand. She knew him too

of the music seemed to reach her, as from a distant land. She drew her costly lace scarf

help and console. Sir Percy Blakeney had loved her once; he was her husband; why should she stand alone through this terrible ordeal? He had very little brains, it is true, but he had plenty of muscle: surely, if she provided the thought, and he the manly energy and pluck

ft her to decide. He, in his turn now, appeared to be absorbed in the sour-stirring me

Sir Percy Blakeney, tall, sleepy, good-humoured, and wearing that half-

exasperating drawl, "I suppose you will want to go to that demmed ball

gers toward Chauvelin, who had ris

coming,

different parts of the house. "Demmed impudence,

d suddenly to have vanished away. She wrapped her

ooked straight at Chauvelin, who, with his CHAPEAU-BRAS under his arm, and a curious

she said pleasantly, "we shall meet

nd satisfaction, for, with a sarcastic smile, he took a delicate pinch of snuff, then,