But first will you kindly give me back that letter? It is a precious document which will for ever remain in the archives of the nation."
But even while he spoke Armand, with one of those quick intuitions that come in moments of acute crisis, had done just that which he felt Blakeney would wish him to do. He had held the letter close to the candle. A corner of the thin crisp paper immediately caught fire, and before Chauvelin could utter a word of anger, or make a movement to prevent the conflagration, the flames had licked up fully one half of the letter, and Armand had only just time to throw the remainder on the floor and to stamp out the blaze with his foot.
"I am sorry, citizen," he said calmly; "an accident."
"A useless act of devotion," interposed Chauvelin, who already had smothered the oath that had risen to his lips. The Scarlet Pimpernel's actions in the present matter will not lose their merited publicity through the foolish destruction of this document."
"I had no thought, citizen," retorted the young man, "of commenting on the actions of my chief, or of trying to deny them that publicity which you seem to desire for them almost as much as I do."
"More, citizen, a great deal more! The impeccable Scarlet Pimpernel, the noble and gallant English gentleman, has agreed to deliver into our hands the uncrowned King of France--in exchange for his own life and *******. Methinks that even his worst enemy would not wish for a better ending to a career of adventure, and a reputation for bravery unequalled in Europe. But no more of this, time is pressing, I must help citizen Heron with his final preparations for his journey. You, of course, citizen St. Just, will act in accordance with Sir Percy Blakeney's wishes?"
"Of course," replied Armand.
"You will present yourself at the main entrance of the house of Justice at six o'clock this morning."
"I will not fail you."
"A coach will be provided for you. You will follow the expedition as hostage for the good faith of your chief."
"I quite understand."
"H'm! That's brave! You have no fear, citizen St. Just?"
"Fear of what, sir?
"You will be a hostage in our hands, citizen; your life a guarantee that your chief has no thought of playing us false. Now I was thinking of--of certain events--which led to the arrest of Sir Percy Blakeney."
"Of my treachery, you mean," rejoined the young man calmly, even though his face had suddenly become pale as death. "Of the damnable lie wherewith you cheated me into selling my honour, and made me what I am--a creature scarce fit to walk upon this earth."
"Oh!" protested Chauvelin blandly.
"The damnable lie," continued Armand more vehemently, "that hath made me one with Cain and the Iscariot. When you goaded me into the hellish act, Jeanne Lange was already free."
"Free--but not safe."
"A lie, man! A lie! For which you are thrice accursed. Great God, is it not you that should have cause for fear? Methinks were I to strangle you now I should suffer less of remorse."
"And would be rendering your ex-chief but a sorry service," interposed Chauvelin with quiet irony. "Sir Percy Blakeney is a dying man, citizen St. Just; he'll be a dead man at dawn if I do not put in an appearance by six o'clock this morning. This is a private understanding between citizen Heron and myself. We agreed to it before I came to see you."
"Oh, you take care of your own miserable skin well enough! But you need not be afraid of me--I take my orders from my chief, and he has not ordered me to kill you."
"That was kind of him. Then we may count on you? You are not afraid?"
