The Pimpernel Plot

12

In the morning, Marguerite awoke with a cry from a nightmare. She had been standing in the Place de la Revolution, all alone. It was dusk. The city was as quiet as a deserted forest clearing as she stared at the platform upon which stood the guillotine, its blade raised and ready to descend. From the distance, she could hear the creaking sound of wooden wheels and the slow clip-clop of a horse’s hooves upon the cobble-stones. A soft breeze began to blow, gaining in strength as the sound of the approaching tumbrel grew closer. Then the wooden cart entered the empty square. The wind was fierce now and she had to lean into it to stand upright. The tumbrel had no driver. The tired-looking horse moved slowly, ponderously, as though it found the load that it was pulling unbearably heavy.

Armand stood in the tumbrel, dressed simply in black britches and a white shirt that was open at the neck. His hands were bound behind him and his eyes were glazed. It was rapidly growing darker in the deserted square. The horse came to a stop almost in front of her and Armand, moving slowly, regally, stepped out of the tumbrel and began to climb the steps up to the platform. She wanted to say something, to call out to him, to run to him and stop him, but she was unable to move or speak. Armand stopped. He kneeled, then slowly bent over putting his head down…

She spun around, turning her back upon the sight, and was confronted with a crowd of people. The entire square was filled with people holding torches, hundreds, thousands of them, all looking at her. She recognized Chauvelin. He smiled, then pushed another man forward. The man stepped up to her, holding out a paper. She looked down at the paper he held out to her and saw that it was Armand’s letter. As she looked up, she saw that the man holding out the letter to her was the Marquis de St. Cyr. At that moment, she heard the sound of the blade descending. She covered her eyes. Something bumped against her feet. She opened her eyes and saw Armand’s head lying at her feet. His eyes were open and looking straight at her, accusingly. As she stared down in horror, his mouth opened and he said, “Why, Marguerite? Why did you not help me?”

She cried out and sat bolt upright in bed, clutching at her throat. She jumped out of bed and threw on a dressing gown, then ran downstairs. One of the servants started to approach her, but she ran past him into the dining room. Percy was not there. From the dining room, she ran to Percy’s den and flung open the door. The room was empty. She came into the den, looking around wildly, as though he might be hidden somewhere. He was an early riser, surely he could not still be sleeping! He had promised that he would…she looked down at the desk. She had leaned upon it and knocked over an inkwell. The ink was red. Lying on the surface of the desk was a signet ring. She picked it up. It was a design in the shape of a flower. She dipped the ring into the ink and pressed it down upon a piece of paper lying on the desktop. The imprint was the same as that she briefly saw on the note burned by Andrew Ffoulkes. It was the sign of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

The door to the den opened a little and the servant who had tried to speak with her moments earlier stuck his head in.

“Excuse me, Lady Blakeney, but there is a gentleman-”

“Come in,’ Marguerite said, dully, not having heard him.

“Milady, there is a gentleman, a messenger to see you. He insists upon speaking to you. I’ve left him waiting in the reception…Oh, dear, I see you’ve had a slight mishap. Allow me, my lady…”

He pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping up the spilled ink.

“A gentleman, you said?” said Marguerite, feeling numb.

“Yes, my lady. He was most insistent upon speaking only to you. I told him that you had not risen yet, but he said that he would wait.”

He picked up the signet ring which she had dropped upon the desk and began to wipe at it.

“Tell him that I will see him,” Marguerite said.

“Very well, mi- ouch!”

“What is it?”

“I seem to have pricked myself,” the servant said. He held up the ring. “There’s a tiny needle-” He collapsed onto the floor.

“Giles!” Marguerite was down by his side in an instant. She listened for his heartbeat. He was not dead. He seemed to be asleep. Carefully, she picked up the ring and looked at it. The top of the ring seemed to have been moved very slightly off center and now there was a small needle protruding from it Cautiously, she tried pressing on the sides of the ring. When her finger touched one point, the top of the ring slid back into position and the needle disappeared. She wrapped the ring inside a handkerchief and put it in her pocket, then left the room, closing the door behind her. She called for a servant.

“Have you seen my husband?” she said.

“Yes, milady. He left early this morning, shortly before dawn.”

“Before dawn! Did he say where he was going?”

“He did not tell me, milady. Perhaps the grooms might know?”

“Go and find out immediately,” she said. She hurried into the reception hall. A swarthy-looking man rose to his feet as she entered.

“Lady Blakeney?”

“Yes, what is it that you want?”

“I have been instructed to give you this from a gentleman named Chauvelin, a Frenchman-”

“Yes, I know him, give it to me!”

He handed her a letter. She quickly broke the seal. It was a note from Chauvelin and along with it was Armand’s letter. Chauvelin’s note read: You have discharged your service Citoyenne St. Just. Your brother will be safe. I leave for Dover this morning. Adieu. Chauvelin.

She continued staring at the note, oblivious now to the man’s presence.

“I have already been paid for my service, Lady Blakeney,” he said after a moment. “I will see myself out.”

He hesitated and, when she did not respond, gave her a slight bow and left. He passed the servant she had sent out to question the grooms as he left.

“Milady, the grooms report that your husband left for Dover, along with Master Lucas and Miss Andre.”

She crumpled the letter in her hand. So they are all in it together, she thought. Ffoulkes and Dewhurst, Hastings, Lucas, Andre, all of them. The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel-and she had betrayed them. She had told Chauvelin of the meeting Ffoulkes had had with the Pimpernel in the supper room at the Foreign Office, long after most of the guests had left and those few remaining were gathered in the parlor. Chauvelin had seen Ffoulkes meet the Pimpernel and now he was on his way to apprehend him the moment he set foot in France. They were riding directly into a trap and she had set it

“Tell the grooms to have my horse saddled at once,” she said.

“Your horse, milady? Would not the coach be-”

“Yes, my horse, damn you! Be quick about it!”

With Cobra’s chronoplate, they didn’t have to waste time sailing across the English Channel or riding to Paris. They clocked from Dover, where the agent had set up a temporary safehouse, directly to Calais.

“All right, here’s how it stands right now,” said Cobra. “I’ve got one of my men stationed at Lafitte’s tobacco shop, just in case Mongoose or the boy returns there. There’s been no sign of the boy since we took his brother. What’s more, there’s been no sign of the old man, either.”

“What, the tobacconist?” said Lucas. “Jean’s uncle?”

Cobra nodded. “He may be working with Mongoose, as well. Something that you don’t know is that before he became head of field operations, Mongoose was section chief in Paris in this time period. I’m only making a wild guess, but it’s possible that Lafitte might have been one of his indigenous field men.”

Finn threw up his hands. “Jesus, this is getting nuttier all the time!”

“But it makes sense,” said Lucas. “I was wondering how Mongoose was able to dress up as an old woman and make off with Leforte and still have time to get back to the safehouse and meet us as Fitzroy some ten minutes later. I had thought that he might have taken Leforte directly to the safehouse and hidden him from sight after tranquilizing him, but that would still have been cutting it extremely close. In fact, considering everything that he’s been able to accomplish, it would make sense that he was getting help from more than just a 12-year-old boy.”

“Wait a minute,” Finn said. “If Mongoose used to be the section chief here, wouldn’t the man who came in to replace him know the-”

“Allow me to anticipate you,” Cobra said. “No, not necessarily. Remember, we’re still dealing with a practice that is technically illegal. As a result, section chiefs tend to be extremely secretive about such things. Besides, no one would like to inherit somebody else’s field personnel. They’d prefer to pick their own. The old contacts would simply dry up and new ones would be made. Except in this case, it looks like the old contacts have been reestablished. The problem is, I have no idea how many of them there might be.”

“You’re saying that Mongoose has an indefinite number of indigenous personnel dancing to his tune?” said Finn

“I don’t know,” said Cobra, “but it’s entirely possible. Probable, in fact. He likes to have an edge.”

“Terrific,” Finn said. “I’m sure glad you save these little tidbits until they become germane.”

“Delaney, you just don’t seem to understand,” said Cobra in exasperation. “I’m disclosing top-secret information to you here! You guys aren’t supposed to know any of this!”

“What worries me is not what we’re not supposed to know that you’ve already told us,” Finn said, “but what we’re not supposed to know that you haven’t told us yet.”

Lucas looked at him and frowned. “You want to run that by me again?”

“No, I’m not sure I understand what I just said, either,” said Delaney.

“Never mind,” said Cobra. “It doesn’t really matter. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway. I’m way out of line in telling you as much as I have already. You could do a great deal of damage to the agency with what you know now.”

“What about the damage the agency has done?” said Finn.

“In spite of what you may want to believe,” said Cobra, “the agency is the only thing keeping-”

“Let’s not get into this, all right?” said Lucas. “We’ve got enough problems. The question is, what do we do about St. Just, now that he’s been compromised?”

“We get him out,” said Cobra, “and we take the Comte de Tournay on this trip, as well.”

“When did you have time to locate him?” said Finn.

“I didn’t. The local section chief did.”

“How many people does the TIA have back here, anyway?” said Finn.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Where are St. Just and the Comte de Tournay now?” said Lucas.

“At this moment, they should be somewhere between Paris and Cap Gris Nez,” said Cobra. “They’re going by road because by the time they get there, Ffoulkes should arrive in time to receive them. You don’t want them rescued before the Pimpernel could have had time in which to do it, do you? He’s due to arrive in Calais tomorrow, right? By then, the section chief’s people should have them here and if Ffoulkes is surprised at the speed with which you got them out, you can tell him that the Pimpernel’s agents in Paris were in on it. It’ll almost be the truth.”

“So what’s our next move going to be?” said Andre, who had been silently smoking a pipe all through the discussion, having developed a liking for it.

“First of all, is Pierre Lafitte going to be safe alone at Richmond?” said Cobra.

“He’ll be fine,” said Andre. “I’ve got him in the gamekeeper’s cottage.”

“What did you tell the gamekeeper?” Cobra said, surprised.

“The truth,” said Andre.

“The truth?” they all asked, in unison.

“Well, something fairly close to it, anyway,” she said. “I told him that I was having an affair with Andrew Ffoulkes, that Ffoulkes was a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel and that the league had kidnapped the boy because he’s the son of a French spy we wanted to put pressure on. Ffoulkes needed a safe place to keep the boy for a week or so and I thought I could help.”

“And he bought that?” Cobra said, incredulously.

“Why not? Who’d make up a lie like that?”

“Amazing.”

“What’s amazing is that in all the excitement, I actually forgot about that kid,” said Finn.

“Believe it or not, so did I,” said Lucas. “This mission has me going in so many directions at the same time, I can’t even keep track of what’s happening anymore.”

“Well, in that case, you’ll be pleased to know that it’s almost over,” Cobra said. “The Scarlet Pimpernel ended his career after rescuing the Comte de Tournay and St. Just. It was a brief career, but a flamboyant one.”

“You mean that’s it?” said Finn. “It’s over?”

“Not quite,” said Cobra. “This will be your last trip to France, but there’s still the matter of Percy Blakeney to consider. Chances are there’s going to be a relocation and you’ll be relieved, but that can’t happen until the adjustment has been reported as complete and I can’t clock to Plus Time to do that so long as Mongoose is at liberty. You’re just going to have to stay here until he’s found and apprehended.”

“Hold on,” said Finn. “Maybe you can’t clock forward, but any one of the agency people here can.”

“True, but with Mongoose still loose and Darrow’s people hunting him, I’m not in a position to spare anybody. I’m not even completely certain which of the agency people back here I can trust.”

“That’s not my problem,” Finn said.

“You’re wrong,” said Cobra. “It is your problem, because as long as Mongoose is still free, you’re staying right here.”

“The hell you say! Suppose he decides to go underground? I don’t see what else he can do. You might never find him!”

“My job is to stay here until I do,” said Cobra.

“And what about us?”

Cobra shrugged.

Jellyband was slightly disapproving as he served them. He knew who they were and it appeared to him that Lady Marguerite Blakeney and Andrew Ffoulkes were running away together. The fact that they both traveled on horseback and had obviously ridden hard from London to Dover seemed to confirm his suspicions. It wasn’t his place to say or do anything, but he seemed somewhat scandalized.

“I feel so damn helpless!” Marguerite said. “We rode hard all this way and now we can’t cross because of bad weather!”

“Take heart,” said Ffoulkes. “If we can’t cross, then no one else can, either. If Chauvelin left London for Dover only this morning, then he could not have had time to sail yet. No boats have left for Calais since last night. He’s somewhere here, in Dover, waiting for a change in the weather, just as we are. Had I known about this, I would have taken the time to gather some of the others together and we could have taken him here and taught him a lesson. Unfortunately, I know for a fact that Chauvelin has other agents with him and I cannot risk going after him alone. If anything happened to me, you would be unprotected and Percy might not be warned in time.”

“I’ve been an awful fool,” said Marguerite. “I’ve placed my own husband’s life in jeopardy.”

“You could not have known,” said Andrew, kindly.

She shook her head. “He had become so changed, so distant and secretive that I had actually convinced myself that something incredible had happened to Percy and that his place had been taken by some impostor who was his twin!” She laughed, feeling herself to be on the edge of hysteria. “Small wonder he seemed a different man to me! He was living a secret life, not daring to tell me he was the Pimpernel because he knew I had informed upon St. Cyr. Poor Percy! How it must have tortured him!”

“What matters is that now he knows the truth of the St. Cyr affair,” said Ffoulkes. “He doesn’t blame you. No one would. I can’t understand why you didn’t tell him what really happened earlier.”

“How could I? After what he must have heard, it would sound as though I were making feeble excuses. I was afraid that he might not believe me and…no, that isn’t true. I’m Lying to myself. It was pride, Andrew, foolish, stubborn, damnable pride! When I realized that he must have heard the stories, I was furious with him for not coming to me at once and asking to hear my side of it. I was too proud to go to him and offer an explanation; I thought that he should come to me. As a result, it has come to this. I have no one but myself to blame.”

“That isn’t true,” said Ffoulkes. “You could not help the fact that Chauvelin’s agents attacked us and stole Armand’s letter to the Pimpernel. Nor could you help giving aid to Chauvelin when your brother’s life hung in the balance. Have faith, we shall reach Percy in time. Chauvelin will not be certain where to look for him, while we know where he can be found.”

“That may be,” said Marguerite, “but there is still the matter of the Comte de Tournay and my brother.”

“If I know Percy,” Andrew Ffoulkes said, “he will see the matter through and rescue both of them.”

“That is exactly what I mean,” said Marguerite. “That will be dangerous enough, but now that Chauvelin is on his trail, how can he possibly hope to succeed?”

Ffoulkes smiled. “Don’t forget one thing,” he said. “In Percy’s own words, that Pimpernel is ‘demmed elusive.’ “

“You promised!” said the old man, angrily. “You promised that we would be safe, that there would be no reprisals!”

“In this world, no one is ever safe, Lafitte,” said Mongoose.

They were in a small house on the outskirts of Calais which Mongoose had purchased in his days as section chief of 18th-century France. Along with several other properties he owned spread out across the globe and throughout time, it was one of the places he used to get away from it all when he was given leave. It was one of several places where Lafitte knew he could find him or leave word for him in the unusual event that their regular procedure had to be abandoned and Lafitte had to get in touch with him, rather than the other way around. It was a simple house, with a slate roof and planked flooring that showed signs of age. It was sparsely yet comfortably furnished and, in the absence of its owner, it was kept up by an old woman whose husband had been lost at sea ten years ago. She was reliable and fiercely loyal, as were all of Mongoose’s indigenous employees, for he paid them very well and saw to it that their needs were taken care of in his absence. There was nothing about the house to set it apart from any other in Calais, save for the fact that it had one room in the cellar that was impregnable. It contained a number of items not native to that time; among them a chronoplate, which Mongoose kept for emergencies.

“They have Pierre!” said the old man.

“I know,” said Mongoose, whom the old man knew only as Monsieur l’Avenir. “I told you, there is no cause for concern. They will not harm him.”

“How can you know?”

“I give you my word that Pierre will not be harmed in any way. Have I ever let you down before, Lafitte?”

“No, Monsieur l’Avenir, but-”

“Then trust me. There is only one reason why they took Pierre and that is so they will have a hold on you. They do not want you or Jean helping me.”

“Then there is nothing you can do?” the old man said, crestfallen.

“For the moment, nothing. But only for the moment. However, rest assured that I will restore Pierre to you. I am certain that I know where he is. They will not harm him. They only mean to frighten you.”

The old man shook his head, miserably. “It is all my fault. I should never have allowed you to bring Jean into this. He is just a child.”

“But a remarkable child, you will admit,” said Mongoose.

“He is most resourceful. Already, at twelve, he is an accomplished liar, a gifted thief, an excellent marksman, and he is utterly without scruples. He has a brilliant future ahead of him.”

“You have perverted him,” Lafitte said, glumly.

“No. I have only helped him to discover himself. You are an old man, Lafitte. Face it, my friend, you are not long for this earth. You should be grateful to me for having helped Jean discover the innate abilities that he possessed. When it is time for you to die, you can do so knowing that the boys will not go hungry or uncared for. They will be quite able to fend for themselves.”

“I have served you faithfully, Monsieur l’Avenir,” said Lafitte. “Even though I do not understand these secret dealings of yours, I have done everything you asked me to do without question. If you can assure me of their safety, I shall do anything you ask, even give up my life, what little of it there is left to me.”

Mongoose smiled. “I can assure you not only of their safety, but of their prosperity,” he said. “They will both become very famous men. Jean, especially, will make his mark upon the world.”

“Where is Jean? I had hoped he was with you, but-”

“Jean was with me,” said Mongoose. “He does not know about Pierre and it is very important that you do not tell him should you see him. He will not be able to think clearly if he is concerned about his brother. At this moment, he is performing a service for me. I also have work for you to do, as well.”

“Say it and it shall be done.”

The weather cleared and Marguerite Blakeney and Andrew Ffoulkes were able to sail to Calais that afternoon. They knew that Chauvelin would be sailing at the same time, although they would probably beat him to Calais upon the Day Dream.

“A lucky break for us,” said Ffoulkes. “Percy and the others must have sailed on another boat, leaving the Day Dream in Dover. Perhaps he suspects that someone is on his trail and is being extra cautious. I certainly hope so.”

“Do you think that we shall reach them in time?” Marguerite said, anxiously.

“I have no doubt of it,” said Ffoulkes, although privately he was not so certain. He knew that Percy was to meet with him at Brogard’s inn in Cap Gris Nez; however, he was arriving a day early. He had left word for Tony Dewhurst to gather the others together and proceed on to Calais as soon as possible, but he had no way of knowing when Dewhurst would get the message. He knew that Percy was very secretive about his plans and chances were that he and the others might have gone on to Paris. If that would be the case, then there was little he and Marguerite could do. other than to wait for their return and try to get to him before Chauvelin could. Unfortunately, that would give Chauvelin all the time he needed to gather his forces together and by the time Percy and the others returned to Cap Gris Nez, it could well be crawling with soldiers. The advantage that they had was that they knew that Percy would go to Cap Gris Nez, rather than Calais. Chauvelin would waste valuable time searching for him in Calais. Still, it would not take very long for him to conduct his investigation and ascertain that no one had seen a party of English citizens loitering about. Once he came to the conclusion that Blakeney wasn’t in Calais, Cap Gris Nez would be the next logical place in which to search for him.

When they arrived at Calais, they quickly made their way to Cap Gris Nez and the Chat Gris. Brogard received them in his usual surly manner and, when questioned, replied that “the English aristo” had, indeed, been there, but that he had left. He did not say exactly when he would return, but he had kept the rooms that he had taken, as usual, so that it would seem that he would not be gone for long. Brogard then began to sound Ffoulkes out as to the possibility of selling him some wine. He did so with little enthusiasm, as though he felt guilty for being forced to do business with English aristocrats. Having established their cover as oenophiles, the members of the league now had to carry on with the deception, which meant that they were forced to buy wine every time they came to Cap Gris Nez. To curry favor with Brogard, they had bought some wine from him on several occasions. Evidently, he received some sort of a commission from whoever he got it from and he thus profited by playing the middleman. Undoubtedly, he cheated both parties involved. Ffoulkes didn’t mind that so much, but the wine he sold them was terrible. They usually dumped it off mid-Channel, because not even Briggs would drink it.

Marguerite fidgeted throughout Ffoulkes’s conversation with Brogard, but she managed to keep silent until he left them.

“How can you discuss buying wine at a time like this?” she said. “We should be looking for them, instead of-”

“Please,” Ffoulkes kept her from going on. “Lower your voice. There may be spies about, one never knows. Brogard believes us to be wine merchants to our well-heeled friends and it is necessary to keep up appearances. As for looking for Percy, there may be little we can do now. I think it would be best if you remained here while I scouted around. Have something to eat, you must be starving. The food here actually isn’t so bad. It will fill you up, at least. Then go upstairs and stay in the room. Do not come out under any circumstances until I return. Please, for all our sakes, you must do as I ask.”

She nodded.

“Remember that there may be spies about,” said Ffoulkes. “Stay out of sight and speak to no one. Do not admit anyone into your room for any reason, not even Brogard. Trust no one. Percy’s life may depend upon it.”

Ffoulkes gulped the rest of his wine, grimacing. Brogard insisted upon serving him the awful stuff and he could hardly claim that he didn’t like it, since they were buying so much of it. He then ordered some food for Marguerite and hurriedly departed to search the streets of Cap Gris Nez for Percy. There was also a chance that he could be at Pere Blanchard’s cottage and therefore Ffoulkes had to look there, as well. There was a great deal of ground to cover and not much time to do it in. Before he left, he once again reminded Marguerite to remain inside her room, no matter what.

Marguerite made a somewhat halfhearted attempt to eat something, but she was unable to do much more than pick at her food. She purchased a bottle of wine from Brogard deciding that even the swill he served was better than nothing and went upstairs. She closed the door and bolted it, sat down on the bed and took a healthy swig from the bottle. The taste was horrible, but at least it was wet. Her mouth and throat felt very dry. She thought to herself, the waiting will be the worst part.

The waiting was the worst part. Hours went by that seemed like days. There was no sign of Ffoulkes. It was beginning to grow dark. Where can he be? She thought that surely Ffoulkes would have returned by now. All sorts of possibilities occurred to her. Ffoulkes had been captured by Chauvelin. Ffoulkes had injured himself somehow and was lying outside somewhere in the growing darkness. Ffoulkes had found Percy and they had both been captured. She brought the bottle to her lips once more and was astonished to discover that she had emptied it. Yet, she did not feel drunk. She had always joked with Percy that her capacity for wine was much greater than his, but never before had she finished a whole bottle by herself. The room suddenly seemed oppressively hot. She started to get up to cross the room and open the window, but sat back down upon the bed, involuntarily. The floor seemed to be tilting of its own accord.

Fool, you fool, she thought, you’re drunk!

Of all the stupid things to do and at a time like this! Furiously, she threw the bottle at the wall and it shattered, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The window, she thought, I must open the window. Some fresh air will help to clear my head. With deliberate effort, she rose to her feet unsteadily and took several tentative steps. All right, it was not too bad. She was inebriated, but at least she still had some semblance of control. She was not falling down drunk.

Andrew will be furious with me, she thought. She staggered over to the night table, where stood a bowl of water for washing up. She emptied it over her head. Dripping wet, she walked over to the window, feeling her way along the wall and using it for support. The water combined with the chill air outside will do it, she told herself. She made it to the window and opened it, taking in deep gulps of air. Her room was on the far end of the inn, the window opening out onto the street. The entrance to the Chat Gris was just below and to her left. She heard the sounds of hoofbeats rapidly approaching and, remembering what Ffoulkes had said, she ducked back out of sight, pressing herself against the wall beside the open window. The horses stopped in front of the inn and she held her breath.

“Percy!” she whispered. “It must be!”

“You men start at the other end of town, I’ll interrogate the innkeeper here myself. Besides, you’ve had a chance to eat your supper and I haven’t. I’m told this inn has the only decent food in all of Cap Gris Nez.”

Chauvelin!

She heard the horses galloping away; then a moment later, she heard the door downstairs open and Chauvelin call out for the innkeeper. My God, she thought, he mustn’t come here now, he mustn’t! She managed to get to the door of her room and she opened it, ignoring Ffoulkes’s instructions. She was still feeling lightheaded, but the wine didn’t seem to be affecting her as much now. She closed her eyes and tried to fight off the dizziness. She could hear Chauvelin and Brogard talking downstairs, but she could not clearly make out what was being said. Opening the door all the way, she stepped outside into the hall and went to the top of the stairs. She looked down to the first floor and she could just see the table at which Chauvelin sat. His back was to her. Brogard was standing before him, she could see the innkeeper from about the shoulders down.

“He was here, you say?” said Chauvelin. “When?”

She quickly backed away without waiting to hear Brogard’s reply. The window! It looked out onto the street. If either Ffoulkes or Percy came now, she could shout down to them and warn them of the trap. She went back to her room and stood by the open window, staring outside, up and down the street. She saw a number of other people enter the inn, but none of them was Ffoulkes or Percy. Could Percy be disguised? Ffoulkes had told her that he had become quite an actor, often resorting to elaborate disguises to effect his rescues. If he slipped into the inn in such a costume, perhaps he would not be recognized, but surely he would recognize Chauvelin and realize the danger. How long would it be before the soldiers returned to the Chat Gris?

A hand covered her mouth and another pinned her arms behind her back. She was pulled away from the window.

“Not a sound, Lady Blakeney, please.”

Whoever it was spoke to her in English, but he did not sound English. Too late, she realized that she had left her door open. She could not see who was holding her. She began to fight against her unknown assailant.

“Struggling is useless, Lady Blakeney. I’m much stronger than you are.”

She was forced face-down onto the bed. She tried to fight, but her attacker’s claim was no idle boast. He was immensely powerful. She tried kicking at him, but it was to no avail.

“Jean, hand me that rope, will you?”

She felt her hands being bound moments later. The man holding her had uncovered her mouth to do the job and she opened it to scream, but instead found a cloth being jammed into it. She was astonished to see that the person who had gagged her so expertly and now stood there grinning at her was a mere boy. In seconds, she was immobilized, her mouth gagged, her hands tied, and her feet and knees bound together. Suddenly, she remembered Percy’s ring. Working her fingers madly, she managed to move the top of the signet ring so that the tiny needle was exposed. Now if she only had a chance to-

“All right, Lady Blakeney, let’s see if we can’t sit you up and try to make you a bit more comfortable. At least, as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances.”

As she felt his hands on her, she gave a convulsive jerk and thrashed toward him, trying to swipe at him with her hands tied behind her back.

“What the… ow! Damn bitch scratched me. She…” The voice trailed off. Then her hands were seized and she felt the ring being wrenched off her finger.

For several moments, nothing happened. Then she heard a clearly audible sigh of relief.

“Christ, for a moment there, I thought I’d had it.”

She felt herself being turned over and she looked up at the face of her assailant. He was of medium height, not as tall as Percy, and he was dark-haired. He had the build of an athlete, he was clean-shaven, and he was good-looking in a menacing sort of way. He smiled and it was an amazingly charming smile. He held up the ring.

“You gave me quite a turn there,” Mongoose said. “It certainly would have been ironic if I’d had this thing turned against me. However, if he gave it to you, which I doubt, he did not show you how to load it. Fortunately for me, the cartridge has been spent.” He put the ring in his pocket. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? I suppose it’s just as well. Jean, get over by the window there and let me know if you see anybody coming.”

The boy complied.

“You needn’t stare at me so malevolently,” he told her. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to save his life.”

“Three men approaching,” Jean said from the other side of the room.

“It’s getting awful crowded down there, isn’t it?” said Mongoose.

“They are coming inside.”

“I rather thought they would. This is beginning to get interesting.” He went over to the window. “I estimate that it should take the soldiers at least another half an hour, maybe a little less, to work their way through town. That’s if they’re efficient.”

Marguerite was looking around to see if there was anything that she could knock over or use to free herself when her gaze fell upon the door. The boy had shut and bolted it before and now something was burning its way through the wooden bolt from the other side! Her eyes widened as she saw the tiny wisps of smoke curling up from the bolt. It was as though someone was using a very fine saw on it, but she could see no blade and there was no sound whatsoever.

“More people coming,” Mongoose said. “It’s getting to be quite a-”

The door swung open silently, revealing a tall man holding a small metal tube in his right hand.

“Watch out! “ the boy said and, in the same instant, drew a slim knife from behind his neck and hurled it at the tall man holding the tube. It struck him in the chest and he fell, but whatever sound he made in striking the floor was drowned out by the noise of all the customers downstairs. There were two other men behind him, but all Marguerite saw was a thin, brilliant shaft of light that seemed to appear and disappear all in one second. She did not know how it happened, but suddenly the two other men were on the floor as well, having fallen out of her line of sight.

Mongoose closed the door quickly. He looked at Jean and grinned. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said. “I didn’t even know you carried a knife.”

Jean bent down over the first man, the one he had killed. “I thought it was a pistol,” he said. “What is-”

“Don’t touch it!”

The boy froze.

“It’s all right, “ said Mongoose

Marguerite saw that the man held an identical tube in his right hand. He bent down and took the other tube from the dead man, then removed two others from the other men.

“What is it?” Jean said. “I have never seen a weapon like that before.” He stared at the tubes Mongoose held. “How can they kill so… so…”

“Never mind,” said Mongoose. “Here, take your blade back. And thanks. You saved my life.”

“You would have done the same for me,” Jean said, gallantly. He was obviously proud.

“Yes, but what you just did is a great deal more important. Much more important than you could possibly believe or understand. Here, help me drag these bodies out of the way. Over in the corner, there.”

“Who were these men?” said Jean, dragging one of them by the legs across the room.

“You might say that they were colleagues of mine, in a way,” Mongoose said, with a chuckle. “A very unusual way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“They were not the same three men I saw enter the inn just now,” said Jean. “They are dressed differently. Besides, they would not have had the time to get upstairs so quickly.”

“You’re right,” said Mongoose. “You don’t miss a thing. These characters were already here. My guess is that they were coming upstairs to take up their positions and they overheard us in here. All this means that we have very little time. No time for any more questions. From now on, you just listen well and keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Whatever happens next is going to happen very fast.”

He looked at Marguerite. “Lady Blakeney, you’ll excuse us, won’t you? Don’t try to get free; you won’t be able to. If you roll off the bed and onto the floor, you’ll only succeed in making yourself more uncomfortable and you might hurt yourself.”

He opened the door and stepped outside, with Jean following him. The door swung shut and Marguerite, finally succumbing to the shock of what she had just experienced and the effect of all the wine she had drunk, passed out.

They ran into Andrew Ffoulkes as they were approaching the inn. Ffoulkes had been out to Pere Blanchard’s cottage and, not having found them there, had hurried back to town as quickly as he could. He caught up to them when they were within a block of Brogard’s inn.

“Ffoulkes!” said Lucas. “Where are you coming from? What’s happened?”

“Thank God I’ve found you,” Ffoulkes said, dismounting from his horse. “I’ve just been out to the cottage and, not finding you there, I thought that all was lost! I came with Marguerite-”

“Marguerite!” said Finn. “Here? What the hell is she-”

“She’s waiting upstairs in the Chat Gris,” said Ffoulkes. “I told her not to venture forth from her room under any circumstances. We are all in great danger. We came to warn you.” He saw Cobra, registering his presence for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“It’s all right,” said Finn. “This is Collins. He’s one of us, one of our agents in France. Speak quickly, man, what danger? Warn us about what?”

“It’s Chauvelin,” said Ffoulkes.

“The French representative?” said Finn.

“The French spy. He knows everything. He knows you are the Scarlet Pimpernel. He has come to France to set a trap for you. He cannot be far behind.”

“Then we’ll have to move quickly,” Cobra said, taking over. “The Comte de Tournay and St. Just will be arriving any moment. Ffoulkes, you’d best get back to the cottage and wait for them. We’ll send them on to you. Meanwhile, we must go and take Lady Blakeney from the inn. It is a dangerous place for her to be.”

Ffoulkes glanced at Finn for confirmation. “Do as he says,” said Finn. “Quickly!”

Ffoulkes swung up into the saddle. “Good luck, Percy. God speed!”

As he galloped off, Finn turned to Cobra and said, “That was quick thinking.”

“We’ll have to move even quicker,” Cobra said. “Lucas you and Andre take up positions at opposite ends of the street. I’ll cover the inn from the outside while Finn goes in and gets Marguerite. If you see any soldiers coming, fire your pistols. That’ll warn us and it may give the soldiers pause, since they won’t know what they’ll be riding into. The moment Finn’s got Marguerite safely out of the inn, you all get to Pere Blanchard’s hut as quickly as you can. I’ll stay behind to redirect the Comte de Tournay and St. Just.”

“Alone?” said Lucas.

“Chauvelin doesn’t know me,” Cobra said. “I’ll be safe enough. Besides, without someone to guide them, they’ll miss that footpath down to the cottage in the dark. Now get going.”

Lucas and Andre split up, each of them running to take up their positions at opposite ends of the street, where they would have a good view of any soldiers approaching. Even if they didn’t see them in the darkness, they would hear the approach of mounted men and have enough time to fire their warning shots and run for it.

“How the hell did Marguerite find out-” Finn began, but Cobra interrupted him.

“You can ask her later. Right now, let’s get her out of there before Chauvelin shows up. We can worry about the fine points once we’re all safely out of France.”

They ran to the inn.

“Don’t waste any time,” said Cobra.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Finn. He opened the door and entered the Chat Gris. He noticed that Brogard wasn’t doing as badly as he usually did. At first glance, he estimated that there were perhaps fifteen or twenty customers seated at the tables. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the moment that he entered the inn, it seemed to him that there was a brief lull in the undertone of conversation. Standing there, he felt suddenly very vulnerable.

Pull yourself together, Delaney, he thought. This is no time to have an attack of paranoia.

He put an expression of vague boredom on his face and started walking casually across the room, heading for the stairs leading up to the second floor. He was about halfway across the room when he heard someone call out Blakeney’s name. For a moment, he froze, then turned around to see Chauvelin rising from a table about twenty feet away.

“It is you,” said Chauvelin, beaming. “What a pleasant surprise! Whatever are you doing in France, Sir Percy?”

It was with an effort that Finn kept himself from glancing toward the door. He would simply have to brazen it out. He hoped that Cobra was on the ball. With difficulty, he put a smile on his face and started walking toward Chauvelin’s table.

“Odd’s life!” he said. “Chauvelin, isn’t it?”

“I am so pleased that you remembered,” said Chauvelin.

“Imagine running into you again in a place like this,” Finn said. “I thought I’d just pop over and pick up some of your excellent French wine.” He extended his hand.

Chauvelin also extended his hand. There was a pistol in it.

“I think not,” said Chauvelin. His smile disappeared. “I am afraid that your diet will consist of bread and water from now on. However, you shall not have to put up with such an inconvenience for long. The guillotine has long been waiting for the Scarlet Pimpernel!”

There was total silence in the inn.

“I am sure you’ve got a pistol,” Chauvelin said. “Throw it down onto the floor. Carefully.”

Moving slowly, Finn pulled out his pistol, holding it gingerly with two fingers, and dropped it onto the floor.

“Now kick it away,” said Chauvelin.

Finn complied. Where the hell are you, Cobra? he thought, furiously. If Chauvelin had only allowed him to get a little closer…

“Drop your pistol, Chauvelin!”

The Frenchman’s eyes grew wide as he saw the man two tables away stand up and level a pistol at his head. Finn stared with amazement at Fitzroy. Looking suddenly frightened, Chauvelin dropped his pistol down onto the table. Before Finn had a chance to say anything to his rescuer, another voice said “Now you drop yours, Mongoose.”

Cobra was standing in the doorway, holding a laser.

“You haven’t got a chance, Cobra,” said Fitzroy. “Take a good look around you. I’ve got men all around…” His voice trailed off. Every single customer in the inn held a laser and they were all suddenly pointing them at each other.

Cobra fired, his shot catching Fitzroy squarely in the chest. As Fitzroy fell, Finn dropped to the floor and rolled as the inn became a violent crisscross of laser fire. He retrieved his totally inadequate pistol and hid under a table, trying to become part of the floor. It lasted perhaps a second or two; then Finn heard somebody moan. Finn looked up to see that Chauvelin, miraculously, stood unscathed, his jaw hanging open. Finn started to get up, cautiously. There were dead bodies all around the room.

“Shoot him, damn you!”

Cobra was on his knees. One arm was gone from the shoulder down and there was a hole in the side of his face.

Bewildered, Finn stared from him to Chauvelin. The Frenchman stared in horror as Cobra lurched to his feet

“Shoot him! Shoot him or you’re a dead man, Chauvelin! Shoot! Shoot!”

Even as it dawned on Finn that Cobra was shouting at the Frenchman, Chauvelin moved as if in a trance. His eyes were unfocused as he reached for the pistol he had dropped upon the table. As he picked it up, a thin shaft of light lanced out across the room and neatly sliced his head off. Chauvelin’s headless corpse remained standing for an instant, then it toppled to the floor, upsetting the table.

“NO!”

Cobra lunged forward, bending down to pick up a fallen laser. As his fingers closed around it, a knife struck him in the chest. At the same instant, Cobra screamed and vanished. The knife which had been sticking in his chest clattered to the floor. There wasn’t even any blood on it.

Finn heard a soft gasp and turned to see Jean Lafitte, staring slackjawed at the spot where Cobra had been an instant ago. His own eyes bulged when he saw Mongoose standing on the stairs, holding a laser in his hand as he casually leaned on the railing. Finn quickly looked to his left, seeing Fitzroy’s body sprawled over a table. Then he looked back in disbelief at Fitzroy’s double, who was standing on the stairs. The double grinned.

“Hello, Finn,” he said. “Long time, no see. By the way, we’re even.”