The Elusive Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy (books to read to improve english txt) 📕

left him in order to see to the horses and to his escort for tonight, Chauvelin called Sergeant Hébert, his old and trusted familiar, to him and gave him some final orders.

“The Angelus must be rung at the proper hour, friend Hébert,” he began with a grim smile.

“The Angelus, Citizen?” quoth the Sergeant, with complete stupefaction, “ ’tis months now since it has been rung. It was forbidden by a decree of the Convention, and I doubt me if any of our men would know how to set about it.”

Chauvelin’s eyes were fixed before him in apparent vacancy, while the same grim smile still hovered round his thin lips. Something of that irresponsible spirit of adventure which was the mainspring of all Sir Percy Blakeney’s actions, must for the moment have pervaded the mind of his deadly enemy.

Chauvelin had thought out this idea of having the Angelus rung tonight, and was thoroughly pleased with the notion. This was the day when the duel was to have been fought; seven o’clock would have been the very hour, and the sound of the Angelus to have been the signal for combat, and there was something very satisfying in the thought, that that same Angelus should be rung, as a signal that the Scarlet Pimpernel was withered and broken at last.

In answer to Hébert’s look of bewilderment Chauvelin said quietly:

“We must have some signal between ourselves and the guard at the different gates, also with the harbour officials: at a given moment the general amnesty must take effect and the harbour become a free port. I have a fancy that the signal shall be the ringing of the Angelus: the cannons at the gates and the harbour can boom in response; then the prisons can be thrown open and prisoners can either participate in the evening fête or leave the city immediately, as they choose. The Committee of Public Safety has promised the amnesty: it will carry out its promise to the full, and when Citizen Collot d’Herbois arrives in Paris with the joyful news, all natives of Boulogne in the prisons there will participate in the free pardon too.”

“I understand all that, Citizen,” said Hébert, still somewhat bewildered, “but not the Angelus.”

“A fancy, friend Hébert, and I mean to have it.”

“But who is to ring it, Citizen?”

“Morbleu! haven’t you one calotin left in Boulogne whom you can press into doing this service?”

“Aye! calotins enough! there’s the Abbé Foucquet in this very building⁠ ⁠… in No. 6 cell⁠ ⁠…”

“Sacré tonnerre!” ejaculated Chauvelin exultingly, “the very man! I know his dossier well! Once he is free, he will make straightway for England⁠ ⁠… he and his family⁠ ⁠… and will help to spread the glorious news of the dishonour and disgrace of the much-vaunted Scarlet Pimpernel!⁠ ⁠… The very man, friend Hébert!⁠ ⁠… Let him be stationed here⁠ ⁠… to see the letter written⁠ ⁠… to see the money handed over⁠—for we will go through with that farce⁠—and make him understand that the moment I give him the order, he can run over to his old church St. Joseph and ring the Angelus.⁠ ⁠… The old fool will be delighted⁠ ⁠… more especially when he knows that he will thereby be giving the very signal which will set his own sister’s children free.⁠ ⁠… You understand?⁠ ⁠…”

“I understand, Citizen.”

“And you can make the old calotin understand?”

“I think so, Citizen.⁠ ⁠… You want him in this room.⁠ ⁠… At what time?”

“A quarter before seven.”

“Yes. I’ll bring him along myself, and stand over him, lest he play any pranks.”

“Oh! he’ll not trouble you,” sneered Chauvelin, “he’ll be deeply interested in the proceedings. The woman will be here too, remember,” he added with a jerky movement of the hand in the direction of Marguerite’s room, “the two might be made to stand together, with four of your fellows round them.”

“I understand, Citizen. Are any of us to escort the Citizen Foucquet when he goes to St. Joseph?”

“Aye! two men had best go with him. There will be a crowd in the streets by then⁠ ⁠… How far is it from here to the church?”

“Less than five minutes.”

“Good. See to it that the doors are opened and the bell ropes easy of access.”

“It shall be seen to, Citizen. How many men will you have inside this room tonight?”

“Let the walls be lined with men whom you can trust. I anticipate neither trouble nor resistance. The whole thing is a simple formality to which the Englishman has already intimated his readiness to submit. If he changes his mind at the last moment there will be no Angelus rung, no booming of the cannons or opening of the prison doors: there will be no amnesty, and no free pardon. The woman will be at once conveyed to Paris, and⁠ ⁠… But he’ll not change his mind, friend Hébert,” he concluded in suddenly altered tones, and speaking quite lightly, “he’ll not change his mind.”

The conversation between Chauvelin and his familiar had been carried on in whispers: not that the Terrorist cared whether Marguerite overheard or not, but whispering had become a habit with this man, whose tortuous ways and subtle intrigues did not lend themselves to discussion in a loud voice.

Chauvelin was sitting at the central table, just where he had been last night when Sir Percy Blakeney’s sudden advent broke in on his meditations. The table had been cleared of the litter of multitudinous papers which had encumbered it before. On it now there were only a couple of heavy pewter candlesticks, with the tallow candles fixed ready in them, a leather-pad, an inkwell, a sandbox, and two or three quill pens: everything disposed, in fact, for the writing and signing of the letter.

Already in imagination, Chauvelin saw his impudent enemy, the bold and daring adventurer, standing there beside that table and putting his name to the consummation of his own infamy. The mental picture thus evoked brought a gleam of cruel satisfaction and of satiated lust into the keen, ferret-like face, and a smile of intense joy lit up