El Dorado: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy (best smutty novels .txt) 📗
- Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy
Book online «El Dorado: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy (best smutty novels .txt) 📗». Author Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy
“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 Heron, will order his friend first, and then Marguerite Blakeney herself, to be summarily shot before his eyes.”
Heron gave a long, low whistle. Instinctively he threw a furtive, backward glance at the prisoner, then he raised his shifty eyes to his colleague.
There was unbounded admiration expressed in them. One blackguard had met another—a greater one than himself—and was proud to acknowledge him as his master.
“By Lucifer, citizen Chauvelin,” he said at last, “I should never have thought of such a thing myself.”
Chauvelin put up his hand with a gesture of self-deprecation.
“I certainly think that measure ought to be adequate,” he said with a gentle air of assumed modesty, “unless you would prefer to arrest the woman and lodge her here, keeping her here as an hostage.”
“No, no!” said Heron with a gruff laugh; “that idea does not appeal to me nearly so much as the other. I should not feel so secure on the way.... I should always be thinking that that cursed woman had been allowed to escape.... No! no! I would rather keep her under my own eye—just as you suggest, citizen Chauvelin... and under the prisoner’s, too,” he added with a coarse jest. “If he did not actually see her, he might be more ready to try and save himself at her expense. But, of course, he could not see her shot before his eyes. It is a perfect plan, citizen, and does you infinite credit; and if the Englishman tricked us,” he concluded with a fierce and savage oath, “and we did not find Capet at the end of the journey, I would gladly strangle his wife and his friend with my own hands.”
“A satisfaction which I would not begrudge you, citizen,” said Chauvelin dryly. “Perhaps you are right... the woman had best be kept under your own eye... the prisoner will never risk her safety on that, I would stake my life. We’ll deliver our final ‘either—or’ the moment that she has joined our party, and before we start further on our way. Now, citizen Heron, you have heard my advice; are you prepared to follow it?”
“To the last letter,” replied the other.
And their two hands met in a grasp of mutual understanding—two hands already indelibly stained with much innocent blood, more deeply stained now with seventeen past days of inhumanity and miserable treachery to come.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. CAPITULATION
What occurred within the inner cell of the Conciergerie prison within the next half-hour of that 16th day of Pluviose in the year II of the Republic is, perhaps, too well known to history to need or bear overfull repetition.
Chroniclers intimate with the inner history of those infamous days have told us how the chief agent of the Committee of General Security gave orders one hour after midnight that hot soup, white bread and wine be served to the prisoner, who for close on fourteen days previously had been kept on short rations of black bread and water; the sergeant in charge of the guard-room watch for the night also received strict orders that that same prisoner was on no account to be disturbed until the hour of six in the morning, when he was to be served with anything in the way of breakfast that he might fancy.
All this we know, and also that citizen Heron, having given all necessary orders for the morning’s expedition, returned to the Conciergerie, and found his colleague Chauvelin waiting for him in the guard-room.
“Well?” he asked with febrile impatience—“the prisoner?”
“He seems better and stronger,” replied Chauvelin.
“Not too well, I hope?”
“No, no, only just well enough.”
“You have seen him—since his supper?”
“Only from the doorway. It seems he ate and drank hardly at all, and the sergeant had some difficulty in keeping him awake until you came.”
“Well, now for the letter,” concluded Heron with the same marked feverishness of manner which sat so curiously on his uncouth personality. “Pen, ink and paper, sergeant!” he commanded.
“On the table, in the prisoner’s cell, citizen,” replied the sergeant.
He preceded the two citizens across the guard-room to the doorway, and raised for them the iron bar, lowering it back after them.
The next moment Heron and Chauvelin were once more face to face with their prisoner.
Whether by accident or design the lamp had been so placed that as the two men approached its light fell full upon their faces, while that of the prisoner remained in shadow. He was leaning forward with both elbows on the table, his thin, tapering fingers toying with the pen and ink-horn which had been placed close to his hand.
“I trust that everything has been arranged for your comfort, Sir Percy?” Chauvelin asked with a sarcastic little smile.
“I thank you, sir,” replied Blakeney politely.
“You feel refreshed, I hope?”
“Greatly so, I assure you. But I am still demmed sleepy; and if you would kindly be brief—”
“You have not changed your mind, sir?” queried Chauvelin, and a note of anxiety, which he vainly tried to conceal, quivered in his voice.
“No, my good M. Chambertin,” replied Blakeney with the same urbane courtesy, “I have not changed my mind.”
A sigh of relief escaped the lips of both the men. The prisoner certainly had spoken in a clearer and firmer voice; but whatever renewed strength wine and food had imparted to him he apparently did not mean to employ in renewed obstinacy. Chauvelin, after a moment’s pause, resumed more calmly:
“You are prepared to direct us to the place where little Capet lies
Comments (0)