“La!  I do look a miserable object, I know,” said the pseudo coal-heaver at last, “but ’twas the only way to get those murderous devils to do what I wanted.  A thousand pardons, mademoiselle; ’twas I brought you to such a terrible pass, but la! you are amongst friends now.  Will you deign to forgive me?”

Juliette looked up.  Her great, earnest eyes, now swimming in tears, sought those of the brave man who had so nobly stood by her and the man she loved.

“Blakeney...” began Deroulede.

But Sir Percy quickly interrupted him: 

“Hush, man! we have but a few moments.  Remember your are in Paris still, and the Lord only knows how we shall all get out of this murderous city to-night.  I have said that you and mademoiselle are among friends.  That is all for the moment.  I had to get you together, or I should have failed.  I could only succeed by subjecting you and mademoiselle to terrible indignities.  Our League could plan but one rescue, and I had to adopt the best means at my command to have you condemned and led away together.  Faith!” he added, with a pleasant laugh, “my friend Tinville will not be pleased when he realises that Citizen Lenoir has dragged the Citizen-Deputies by the nose.”

Whilst he spoke he had led Deroulede and Juliette into a dark and narrow room on the ground floor of the hostelry, and presently he called loudly for Brogard, the host of this uninviting abode.

“Brogard!” shouted Sir Percy.  “Where is that ass Brogard?  La! man,” he added as Citizen Brogard, obsequious and fussy, and with pockets stuffed with English gold, came shuffling along, “where do you hide your engaging countenance?  Here! another length of rope for the gallant soldiers.  Bring them in here, then give them that potion down their throats, as I have prescribed.  Demm it!  I wish we need not have brought them along, but that devil Santerre might have been suspicious else.  They’ll come to no harm, though, and can do us no mischief.”

He prattled along merrily.  Innately kind and chivalrous, he wished to give Deroulede and Juliette time to recover from their dazed surprise.

The transition from dull despair to buoyant hope had been so sudden:  it had all happened in less than three minutes.

The scuffle had been short and sudden outside.  The two soldiers of Santerne had been taken completely unawares, and the three young lieutenants of the Scarlet Pimpernel had fallen on them with such vigour that they had hardly had time to utter a cry of “Help!”

Moreover, that cry would have been useless.  The night was dark and wet, and those citizens who felt ready for excitement were busy mobbing the Hall of Justice, a mile and a half away.  One or two heads had appeared at the small windows of the squalid houses opposite, out it was too dark to see anything, and the scuffle had very quickly subsided.

All was silent now in the Rue des Arts, and in the grimy coffee-room of the Cruche Cassee two soldiers of the National Guard were lying bound and gagged, whilst three others were gaily laughing, and wiping their rain-soaked hand and faces.