Part 52 (2/2)

CHAPTER XLI WHEN HOPE WAS DEAD

In a small upstairs room in the Rue de Charonne, above the shop of Lucas the old-clothes dealer, Marguerite sat with Sir Andrew Ffoulkes

Ar, lay open on the table between theiven her just ten days ago, and which she was only to open if all hope seeer between that one dear life and irretrievable shame

A sht on the squalid, ill-furnished room, for it lacked still an hour or so before dawn Aruerite had quickly despatched a brief reply to hiement

Then she had su her during these days of dire trouble, and he had lodged all this while in a tiny room on the top-most floor of this house in the Rue de Charonne

At her call he had coether at the table, with the oil-la their pale, anxious faces; she the wife and he the friend holding a consultation together in this most miserable hour that preceded the cold wintry dawn

Outside a thin, persistent rain ainst the smallpanes, and an icy wind found out all the crevices in the worress to the roouerite nor Ffoulkes was conscious of the cold They had wrapped their cloaks round their shoulders, and did not feel the chill currents of air that caused the lauerite in that calm voice which comes so naturally in moments of infinite despair--”I can see now exactly what Percy meant when he made me promise not to open this packet until it seemed to me--to me and to you, Sir Andrew--that he was about to play the part of a coward A coward! Great God!” She checked the sob that had risen to her throat, and continued in the same calm manner and quiet, even voice:

”You do think with me, do you not, that the time has come, and that we must open this packet?”

”Without a doubt, Lady Blakeney,” replied Ffoulkes with equal earnestness ”I would stake o Blakeney had that same plan in his mind which he has now erie prison with all the precautions so carefully taken against it was impossible I knew that alas! froht yet be different I'll not believe it that a man like Blakeney is destined to perish at the hands of those curs”

She looked on her loyal friend with tear-diratitude and heart-broken sorrow

He had spoken of a fortnight! It was ten days since she had seen Percy

It had then seen Since then she had tried to shut away frouish constantly conjured up before her of his groeakness, of the gradual iradual exhaustion of that th

”God bless you, Sir Andrew, for your enthusiasm and for your trust,” she said with a sad little se, and these last ten days--what a cycle ofbut for your help and your loyalty

God knoould have courage for everything in life, for everything save one, but just that, his death; that would be beyond th--neither reason nor body could stand it Therefore, I am so afraid, Sir Andrew,” she added piteously

”Of what, Lady Blakeney?”

”That when he knows that I too ae, as Aruarantee his, I am afraid that he will draw back--that he will--my God!” she cried with sudden fervour, ”tell me what to do!”

”Shall we open the packet?” asked Ffoulkes gently, ”and then just make up our minds to act exactly as Blakeney has enjoined us to do, neither more nor less, but just word for word, deed for deed, and I believe that that will be right--whatever th, his earnestness and his faith comforted her She dried her eyes and broke open the seal There were two separate letters in the packet, one unaddressed, obviously intended for her and Ffoulkes, the other was addressed to M le baron Jean de Batz, 15, Rue St Jean de Latran a Paris

”A letter addressed to that awful Baron de Batz,” said Marguerite, looking with puzzled eyes on the paper as she turned it over and over in her hand, ”to that bo! I know him and his ell! What can Percy have to say to him?”

Sir Andrew too looked puzzled But neither of theuerite unfolded the letter which was intended for her, and after a final look on her friend, whose kind face was quivering with excitean slowly to read aloud: