“The old man asked the young one if he were sure that was the right place. ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘ ’tis the place sure enough,’ and by the light of the charcoal fire he showed to his companion a paper, which he carried. ‘Here is the plan,’ he said, ‘which he gave me before I left London. We were to adhere strictly to that plan, unless I had contrary orders, and I have had none. Here is the road we followed, see … and here the fork … here we cut across the St. Martin Road … and here is the footpath which brought us to the edge of the cliff.’ I must have made a slight noise then, for the young man came to the door of the hut, and peered anxiously all round him. When he again joined his companion, they whispered so low, that I could no longer hear them.”

“Well?—and?” asked Chauvelin, impatiently.

“There were six of us altogether, patrolling that part of the beach, so we consulted together, and thought it best that four should remain behind and keep the hut in sight, and I and my comrade rode back at once to make report of what we had seen.”

“You saw nothing of the tall stranger?”

“Nothing, citoyen.”

“If your comrades see him, what would they do?”

“Not lose sight of him for a moment, and if he showed signs of escape, or any boat came in sight, they would close in on him, and, if necessary, they would shoot: the firing would bring the rest of the patrol to the spot. In any case they would not let the stranger go.”

“Aye! but I did not want the stranger hurt—not just yet,” murmured Chauvelin, savagely, “but there, you’ve done your best. The Fates grant that I may not be too late …”

“We met half a dozen men just now, who have been patrolling this road for several hours.”

“Well?”

“They have seen no stranger either.”

“Yet he is on ahead somewhere, in a cart or else … Here! there is not a moment to lose. How far is that hut from here?”

“About a couple of leagues, citoyen.”

“You can find it again?—at once?—without hesitation?”

“I have absolutely no doubt, citoyen.”

“The footpath, to the edge of the cliff?—Even in the dark?”

“It is not a dark night, citoyen, and I know I can find my way,” repeated the soldier firmly.

“Fall in behind then. Let your comrade take both your horses back to Calais. You won’t want them. Keep beside the cart, and direct the Jew to drive straight ahead; then stop him, within a quarter of a league of the footpath; see that he takes the most direct road.”

Whilst Chauvelin spoke, Desgas and his men were fast approaching, and Marguerite could hear their footsteps within a hundred yards behind her now. She thought it unsafe to stay where she was, and unnecessary too, as she had heard enough. She seemed suddenly to have lost all faculty even for suffering: her heart, her nerves, her brain seemed to have become numb after all these hours of ceaseless anguish, culminating in this awful despair.