tightly pinioned. Marguerite ran up to him, took his head in both her hands… and look straight into a pair of blue eyes, good-natured, even a trifle amused-shining out of the weird and distorted mask of the Jew.
'Percy!… Percy!… my husband!' she gasped, faint with the fulness of her joy. 'Thank God! Thank God!'
'La! m'dear,' he rejoined good-humouredly, 'we will both do that anon, an you think you can loosen these demmed ropes, and release me from my inelegant attitude.'
She had no knife, her fingers were numb and weak, but she worked away with her teeth, while great welcome tears poured from her eyes, onto those poor, pinioned hands.
'Odd's life!' he said, when at last, after frantic efforts on her part, the ropes seemed at last to be giving way, 'but I marvel whether it has ever happened before, that an English gentleman allowed himself to be licked by a demmed foreigner, and made no attempt to give as good as he got.'
It was very obvious that he was exhausted from sheer physical pain, and when at last the rope gave way, he fell in a heap against the rock.
Marguerite looked helplessly round her.
'Oh! for a drop of water on this awful beach!' she cried in agony, seeing that he was ready to faint again.
'Nay, m'dear,' he murmured with his good-humoured smile, 'personally I should prefer a drop of good French brandy! an you'll dive in the pocket of this dirty old garment, you'll find my flask… I am demmed if I can move.'
When he had drunk some brandy, he forced Marguerite to do likewise.
'La! that's better now! Eh! little woman?' he said, with a sigh of satisfaction. 'Heigh-ho! but this is a queer rig-up for Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart., to be found in by his lady, and no mistake. Begad!' he added, passing his hand over his chin, 'I haven't been shaved for nearly twenty hours: I must look a disgusting object. As for these curls…'
And laughingly he took off the disfiguring wig and curls, and stretched out his long limbs, which were cramped from many hours' stooping. Then he bent forward and looked long and searchingly into his wife's blue eyes.
'Percy,' she whispered, while a deep blush suffused her delicate cheeks and neck, 'if you only knew…'
'I do know, dear… everything,' he said with infinite gentleness.
'And can you ever forgive?'
'I have naught to forgive, sweetheart; your heroism, your devotion, which I, alas! so little deserved, have more than atoned for that unfortunate episode at the ball.'
'Then you knew?…' she whispered, 'all the time…'
'Yes!' he replied tenderly, 'I knew… all the time… But, begad! had I but known what a noble heart yours was, my Margot, I should have trusted you, as you deserved to be trusted, and you would not have had to undergo the terrible sufferings of the past few hours, in order to run after a husband, who has done so much that needs forgiveness.'
They were sitting side by side, leaning up against a rock, and he had rested his aching head on her shoulder. She certainly now deserved the name of 'the happiest woman in Europe.'
'It is a case of the blind leading the lame, sweetheart, is it not?' he said with his good-natured smile of old. 'Odd's life! but I do not know which are the more sore, my shoulders or your little feet.'
He bent forward to kiss them, for they peeped out through her torn stockings, and bore pathetic witness to her endurance and devotion.
'But Armand…' she said with sudden terror and remorse, as in the midst of her happiness the image of the beloved brother, for whose sake she had so deeply sinned, rose now before her mind.
'Oh! have no fear for Armand, sweetheart,' he said tenderly, 'did I not pledge you my word that he should be safe? He with de Tournay and the others are even now on board the DAY DREAM.'
'But how?' she gasped, 'I do not understand.'
'Yet, 'tis simple enough, m'dear,' he said with that funny, half-shy, half-inane laugh of his, 'you see! when I found that that brute Chauvelin meant to stick to me like a leech, I thought the best thing I could do, as I could not shake him off, was to take him along with me. I had to get to Armand and the others somehow, and all the roads were patrolled, and every one on the look-out for your humble servant. I knew that when I slipped through Chauvelin's fingers at the 'Chat Gris,' that he would lie in wait for me here, whichever way I took. I wanted to keep an eye on him and his doings, and a British head is as good as a French one any day.'
Indeed it had proved to be infinitely better, and Marguerite's heart was filled with joy and marvel, as he continued to recount to her the daring manner in which he had snatched the fugitives away, right from under Chauvelin's very nose.
'Dressed as the dirty old Jew,' he said gaily, 'I knew I should not be recognized. I had met Reuben Goldstein in Calais earlier in the evening. For a few gold pieces he supplied me with this rig-out, and undertook to bury himself out of sight of everybody, whilst he lent me his cart and nag.'
'But if Chauvelin had discovered you,' she gasped excitedly, 'your disguise was good… but he is so sharp.'
'Odd's fish!' he rejoined quietly, 'then certainly the game would have been up. I could but take the risk. I know human nature pretty well by now,' he added, with a note of sadness in his cheery, young voice, 'and I know these Frenchmen out and out. They so loathe a Jew, that they never come nearer than a couple of yards of him, and begad! I fancy that I contrived to make myself look about as loathsome an object as it is possible to conceive.'
'Yes!-and then?' she asked eagerly.
'Zooks!-then I carried out my little plan: that is to say, at first I only determined to leave everything to chance, but when I heard Chauvelin giving his orders to the soldiers, I thought that Fate and I were going to work together after all. I reckoned on the blind obedience of the soldiers. Chauvelin had ordered them on pain of death not to stir until the tall Englishman came. Desgas had thrown me down in a heap quite close to the hut; the soldiers took no notice of the Jew, who had driven Citoyen Chauvelin to this spot. I managed to free my hands from the ropes, with which the brute had trussed me; I always carry pencil and paper with me wherever I go, and I hastily scrawled a few important instructions on a scrap of paper; then I looked about me. I crawled up to the hut, under the very noses of the soldiers, who lay under cover without stirring, just as Chauvelin had ordered them to do, then I dropped my little note into the hut through a chink in the wall, and waited. In this note I told the fugitives to walk noiselessly out of the hut, creep down the cliffs, keep to the left until they came to the first creek, to give a certain signal, when the boat of the DAY DREAM, which lay in wait not far out to sea, would pick them up. They obeyed implicitly, fortunately for them and for me. The soldiers who saw them were equally obedient to Chauvelin's orders. They did not stir! I waited for nearly half an hour; when I knew that the fugitives were safe I gave the signal, which caused so much stir.'
And that was the whole story. It seemed so simple! and Marguerite could be marvel at the wonderful ingenuity, the boundless pluck and audacity which had evolved and helped to carry out this daring plan.
'But those brutes struck you!' she gasped in horror, at the bare recollection of the fearful indignity.
'Well! that could not be helped,' he said gently, 'whilst my little wife's fate was so uncertain, I had to remain here by her side. Odd's life!' he added merrily, 'never fear! Chauvelin will lose nothing by waiting, I warrant! Wait till I get him back to England!-La! he shall pay for the thrashing he gave me with compound interest, I promise you.'
Marguerite laughed. It was so good to be beside him, to hear his cheery voice, to watch that good-humoured twinkle in his blue eyes, as he stretched out his strong arms, in longing for that foe, and anticipation of his well- deserved punishment.
Suddenly, however, she started: the happy blush left her cheek, the light of joy died out of her eyes: she had heard a stealthy footfall overhead, and a stone had rolled down from the top of the cliffs right down to the beach below.
'What's that?' she whispered in horror and alarm.
'Oh! nothing, m'dear,' he muttered with a pleasant laugh, 'only a trifle you happened to have forgotten… my friend, Ffoulkes…'
'Sir Andrew!' she gasped.
Indeed, she had wholly forgotten the devoted friend and companion, who had trusted and stood by her during all these hours of anxiety and suffering. She remembered him how, tardily and with a pang of remorse.
'Aye! you had forgotten him, hadn't you, m'dear?' said Sir Percy merrily. 'Fortunately, I met him, not far from the 'Chat Gris.' before I had that interesting supper party, with my friend Chauvelin… Odd's life! but I have a score
