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"Was I not right, little one,
to carry out that small deception?"
If at the moment when Mother Eve was driven out from the Garden
of Eden she had suddenly heard the serpent's voice whispering:
"Was I not right to suggest your eating that bit of apple?"
she would not have been more astonished than was Josette when
that gentle, insinuating voice reached her ears.
She woke as from a dream - from a kind of coma into which she
had been plunged by despair. She turned and encountered the kindly
familiar glance of Citizen Armand, sitting cross-legged, unmoved
on the bench, his head propped against the wall. In the feeble
light of the guttering candles he appeared if anything paler than
usual, and very tired. Josette gazed on him tongue-tied and puzzled,
indeed more puzzled than she had ever felt before during these
last few days so full of unexplainable events. As she did not
attempt to speak he continued after a moment's pause:
"But for the substitution which I thought it best to effect,
your precious letters would now be in the hands of that rogue,
and nothing in the world could have saved you and your friend
Reversac from death." And again he continued: "The situation
would be the same as now but we shouldn't have the letters."
He thrust his long thin hand into the inner pocket of his coat
and half drew out a packet, wrapped and sealed just as was the
other which had contained the pretended letters. Josette gave
a gasp, and with her habitual, pathetic gesture pressed her hands
against her heart. It had begun to beat furiously. She would have
moved only that Armand put a finger quickly to his lips.
"Sh-sh!" he admonished, and slipped the packet back
inside his coat.
There was a murmur of voices outside; one of the soldiers cleared
his throat, others shuffled their feet. There were sounds of whisperings,
of movements and heavy footsteps the other side of the closed
door - reminders that watched was being kept there by order of
the Citizen Representative. Josette sank her voice to a whisper:
"And you did that...? For me...? Whilst I..."
"Whilst you called me a traitor and a Judas in your heart,"
he concluded with a wan smile. "Let's say no more about it."
"You may forgive me... I cannot...."
"Don't let's talk of that," he resumed with a show
of impatience. "I only wished you to know that the reason
why I didn't interfere between Chabot and yourself was because
in the existing state of our friend's temper my interference would
have been not only useless but harmful to you and your friend.
All I could do was to maneuver him into ordering the perquisition
in your room and get him to superintend it so as to have the chance
of saying these few words to you in private."
"You are right, as you always have been, Citizen Armand,"
Josette rejoined fervently. "I cannot imagine how I ever
came to doubt you."
As if in response to her unspoken request he rose and came across
the room to her, gave her the kindest and most gentle of smiles
and patted her shoulder.
"Poor little girl!" he murmured softly.
She took hold of his hand and managed to imprint a kiss upon
it before he snatched it away.
"You have been such a wonderful friend to me," she
sighed. "I shall never doubt you again."
"Even though I were to put your trust to a more severe test
than before?" he asked.
"Try me," she rejoined simply.
"Suppose I were to order your arrest... now?... It would
only be for a few days," he hastened to assure her.
"I would not doubt you," she declared firmly.
"Only until I can order young Reversac to be brought here."
"Maurice?"
"Yes! For your ultimate release I must have you both here
together. You understand?"
"I think I do."
"While one of you is here and the other in Paris, complications
can so easily set in, and those fiends might still contrive to
play us a trick. But with both of you here, and the letters in
my hands, I can negotiate with Chabot for your release and for
the necessary safe-conducts. After which you can take the diligence
together to Tréport and be in England within three days."
"Yes! yes! I do understand," Josette reiterated, tears
of happiness and gratitude welling to her eyes. "And I don't
mind prison one little bit, dear Citizen Armand," she added
naïvely. "Indeed I don't mind anything that you order
me to do. I do trust you absolutely. Absolutely."
"I'll try and make it as easy for you as I can, and with
luck I hope to have our friend Reversac here within the week."
Excited and happy, not the least bit frightened, and without
the slightest suspicion, Josette saw Chauvelin go to the door,
open it and call to the soldiers who were on guard in the passage.
She heard him call: "Which of you is in command here?"
She saw one of them step briskly forward; heard his smart reply:
"I am, Citizen!" and finally her friend's curt command:
"Corporal, you will take this woman, Josephine Gravier,
to the Commissariat of Police. You will give her in charge of
the Chief Commissary with orders that she be kept under strict
surveillance until further orders." He then came across to
the table, took up the quill pen that was lying there and a printed
paper out of his pocket, scribbled a few words, signed his name
and strewed the writing with sand. The tallow candles had now
guttered so low, and emitted such a column of black smoke, that
he could hardly see: he tried to re-read what he had written and
was apparently satisfied, for he handed the paper to the soldier,
saying curtly:
"This will explain to the Chief Commissary that the order
for this arrest is issued by a member of the Third Sectional Committee
of Public Safety - Armand Chauvelin - and that I hereby denounce
Josephine Gravier as suspect of treason against the Republic."
The corporal - a middle-aged man in somewhat shabby uniform -
took the paper and stood at attention, while Chauvelin, with a
peremptory gesture, beckoned to Josette to fall in with the men.
Loyal and trusting until the end, the girl even forbore to throw
a glance on the treacherous friend who was playing her this cruel
trick: she even went to the length of appearing overcome with
terror, indeed she played to perfection the rôle of an unfortunate
aristo confronted with treason and preparing for death.
"Now then, young woman," the corporal commanded curtly.
Three men were waiting in the passage. With faltering steps and
her face buried in her hands, Josette allowed herself to be led
out of the room. The corporal was the last to go; the door fell
to behind him with a band. Chauvelin stood for a moment in the
centre of the room, listening. He heard the brief word of command,
the tramp of heavy feet along the passage in the direction of
the front door, the shooting of bolts and rattle of chains. He
rubbed his pale, talon-like hands together, and a curious smile
played round his thin lips.
"You'll have your work cut out, my gallant Pimpernel,"
he murmured to himself, "to get the wench away. And even
if you do, her lover is still in Paris, and what will you do about
him? I think this time..." he added complacently.
Then he paused and once more lent an attentive ear to the sounds
that came to him from the other side of the house; to the banging
and stamping, the thuds and thunderings, the loud and strident
shoutings and medley of angry voices, all gradually merging into
a terrific uproar.
And as he listened the enigmatic smile on his lips turned to
a contemptuous sneer.
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