“But in the meanwhile they’ll discover you, and they’ll not let you escape a second time.”

“My friend! if a terrier were to lose his temper, he never would run a rat to earth.  Now your Revolutionary Government has lost its temper with me, ever since I slipped through Chauvelin’s fingers; they are blind with their own fury, whilst I am perfectly happy and cool as a cucumber.  My life has become valuable to me, my friend.  There is someone over the water now who weeps when I don’t return—­No! no! never fear—­they’ll not get The Scarlet Pimpernel this journey...”

He laughed, a gay, pleasant laugh, and his strong, firm face seemed to soften at thought of the beautiful wife, over in England, who was waiting anxiously for his safe return.

“And yet you’ll not help us to rescue the Queen?” rejoined Deroulede, with some bitterness.

“By every means in my power,” replied Blakeney, “save the insane.  But I will help to get you all out of the demmed hole, when you have failed.”

“We’ll not fail”, asserted the other hotly.

Sir Percy Blakeney went close up to his friend and placed his long, slender hand, with a touch of almost womanly tenderness upon the latter’s shoulder.

“Will you tell me your plans?”

In a moment Deroulede was all fire and enthusiasm.

“There are not many of us in it,” he began, “although half France will be in sympathy with us.  We have plenty of money, of course, and also the necessary disguise for the royal lady.”

“Yes?”

“I, in the meanwhile, have asked for and obtained the post of Governor of the Conciergerie; I go into my new quarters to-morrow.  In the meanwhile, I am making arrangements for my mother and—­and those dependent upon me to quit France immediately.”

Blakeney had perceived the slight hesitation when Deroulede mentioned those dependent upon him.  He looked scrutinisingly at his friend, who continued quickly: 

“I am still very popular among the people.  My family can go about unmolested.  I must get them out of France, however, in case—­in case...”

“Of course,” rejoined the other simply.

“As soon as I am assured that they are safe, my friends and I can prosecute our plans.  You see the trial of the Queen has not yet been decided on, but I know that it is in the air.  We hope to get her away, disguised in one of the uniforms of the National Guard.  As you know, it will be my duty to make the final round every evening in the prison, and to see that everything is safe for the night.  Two fellows watch all night, in the room next to that occupied by the Queen.  Usually they drink and play cards all night long.  I want an opportunity to drug their brandy, and thus to render them more loutish and idiotic than usual; then for a blow on the head that will make them senseless.  It should be easy, for I have a strong fist, and after that...”

“Well?  After that, friend?” rejoined Sir Percy earnestly, “after that?  Shall I fill in the details of the picture?—­the guard twenty-five strong outside the Conciergerie, how will you pass them?”