Lord Tony’s Wife - Baroness Orczy (red novels txt) 📗

Carrier’s bullying arrogance had gone. He was terrified to the very depths of his cowardly heart, and for once he was turning away from his favourite Jacques Lalouët and inclined to lean on Chauvelin for advice. Robespierre had been known to tremble at sight of that small scarlet device, how much more had he⁠—Carrier⁠—cause to be afraid. He knew his own limitations and he was terrified of the assassin’s dagger. As Marat had perished, so he too might end his days, and the English spies were credited with murderous intentions and superhuman power. In his innermost self Carrier knew that despite countless failures Chauvelin was mentally his superior, and though he never would own to this and at this moment did not attempt to shed his overbearing manner, he was watching the other keenly and anxiously, ready to follow the guidance of an intellect stronger than his own. III

At last Carrier elected to speak.

“And now, citizen Chauvelin,” he said, “we know how we stand. We know that the English assassins are in Nantes. The question is how are we going to lay them by the heels.”

Chauvelin gave him no direct reply. He was busy collecting his precious papers together and thrusting them back into the pocket of his coat. Then he said quietly:

“It is through the Kernogan woman that we can get hold of him.”

“How?”

“Where she is, there will the Englishmen be. They are in Nantes for the sole purpose of getting the woman and her father out of your clutches.⁠ ⁠…”

“Then it will be a fine haul inside the Rat Mort,” ejaculated Carrier with a chuckle. “Eh, Jacques, you young scamp? You and I must go and see that, what? You have been complaining that life was getting monotonous. Drownages⁠—Republican marriages! They have all palled in their turn on your jaded appetite.⁠ ⁠… But the capture of the English assassins, eh?⁠ ⁠… of that League of the Scarlet Pimpernel which has even caused citizen Robespierre much uneasiness⁠—that will stir up your sluggish blood, you lazy young vermin!⁠ ⁠… Go on, go on, citizen Chauvelin, I am vastly interested!”

He rubbed his dry, bony hands together and cackled with glee. Chauvelin interposed quietly:

“Inside the Rat Mort, eh, citizen?” he queried.

“Why, yes. Citizen Martin-Roget means to convey the Kernogan woman to the Rat Mort, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“And you say that where the Kernogan woman is there the Englishmen will be.⁠ ⁠…”

“The inference is obvious.”

“Which means ten thousand francs from that fool Martin-Roget for having the wench and her father arrested inside the Rat Mort! and twenty thousand for the capture of the English spies.⁠ ⁠… Have you forgotten, citizen Chauvelin,” he added with a raucous cry of triumph, “that commandant Fleury has my orders to make a raid on the Rat Mort this night with half a company of my Marats, and to arrest everyone whom they find inside?”

“The Kernogan wench is not at the Rat Mort yet,” quoth Chauvelin drily, “and you have refused to lend a hand in having her conveyed thither.”

“I can’t do it, my little Chauvelin,” rejoined Carrier, somewhat sobered by this reminder. “I can’t do it⁠ ⁠… you understand⁠ ⁠… my Marats taking an aristo to a house of ill-fame where presently I have her arrested⁠ ⁠… it won’t do⁠ ⁠… it won’t do⁠ ⁠… you don’t know how I am spied upon just now.⁠ ⁠… It really would not do.⁠ ⁠… I can’t be mixed up in that part of the affair. The wench must go to the Rat Mort of her own free will, or the whole plan falls to the ground.⁠ ⁠… That fool Martin-Roget must think of a way⁠ ⁠… it’s his affair, after all. He must see to it.⁠ ⁠… Or you can think of a way,” he added, assuming the coaxing ways of a tiger-cat; “you are so clever, my little Chauvelin.”

“Yes,” replied Chauvelin quietly, “I can think of a way. The Kernogan wench shall leave the house of citizeness Adet and walk into the tavern of the Rat Mort of her own free will. Your reputation, citizen Carrier,” he added without the slightest apparent trace of a sneer, “your reputation shall be safeguarded in this matter. But supposing that in the interval of going from the one house to the other the English adventurer succeeds in kidnapping her.⁠ ⁠…”

“Pah! is that likely?” quoth Carrier with a shrug of the shoulders.

“Exceedingly likely, citizen; and you would not doubt it if you knew this Scarlet Pimpernel as I do. I have seen him at his nefarious work. I know what he can do. There is nothing that he would not venture⁠ ⁠… there are few ventures in which he does not succeed. He is as strong as an ox, as agile as a cat. He can see in the dark and he can always vanish in a crowd. Here, there and everywhere, you never know where he will appear. He is a past master in the art of disguise and he is a born mountebank. Believe me, citizen, we shall want all the resources of our joint intellects to frustrate the machinations of such a foe.”

Carrier mused for a moment in silence.

“H’m!” he said after awhile, and with a sardonic laugh. “You may be right, citizen Chauvelin. You have had experience with the rascal⁠ ⁠… you ought to know him. We won’t leave anything to chance⁠—don’t be afraid of that. My Marats will be keen on the capture. We’ll promise commandant Fleury a thousand francs for himself and another thousand to be distributed among his men if we lay hands on the English assassins tonight. We’ll leave nothing to chance,” he reiterated with an oath.

“In which case, citizen Carrier, you must on your side agree to two things,” rejoined Chauvelin firmly.

“What are they?”

“You must order Commandant Fleury to place himself and half a company of his Marats at my disposal.”

“What else?”

“You must allow them to lend a hand if there is an attempt to kidnap the Kernogan wench while she is being conveyed to the Rat Mort.⁠ ⁠…”

Carrier hesitated for a second or two, but only for form’s sake: