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The Certificate Of Safety
"You can leave de Batz and his gang alone, citizen Heron," said Chauvelin, as
soon as he had closed the door behind him; "he had nothing to do with the
escape of the Dauphin."
Heron growled out a few words of incredulity. But Chauvelin shrugged his
shoulders and looked with unutterable contempt on his colleague. Armand, who
was watching him closely, saw that in his hand he held a small piece of paper,
which he had crushed into a shapeless mass.
"Do not waste your time, citizen," he said, "in raging against an empty wind-bag.
Arrest de Batz if you like, or leave him alone an you please--we have nothing to
fear from that braggart."
With nervous, slightly shaking fingers he set to work to smooth out the scrap of
paper which he held. His hot hands had soiled it and pounded it until it was a
mere rag and the writing on it illegible. But, such as it was, he threw it down with
a blasphemous oath on the desk in front of Heron's eyes.
"It is that accursed Englishman who has been at work again," he said more
calmly; "I guessed it the moment I heard your story. Set your whole army of
sleuth-hounds on his track, citizen; you'll need them all."
Heron picked up the scrap of torn paper and tried to decipher the writing on it by
the light from the lamp. He seemed almost dazed now with the awful catastrophe
that had befallen him, and the fear that his own wretched life would have to pay
the penalty for the disappearance of the child.
As for Armand--even in the midst of his own troubles, and of his own anxiety for
Jeanne, he felt a proud exultation in his heart. The Scarlet Pimpernel had
succeeded; Percy had not failed in his self-imposed undertaking. Chauvelin,
whose piercing eyes were fixed on him at that moment, smiled with
contemptuous irony.
"As you will find your hands overfull for the next few hours, citizen Heron," he
said, speaking to his colleague and nodding in the direction of Armand, "I'll not
trouble you with the voluntary confession this young citizen desired to make to
you. All I need tell you is that he is an adherent of the Scarlet Pimpernel--I
believe one of his most faithful, most trusted officers."
Heron roused himself from the maze of gloomy thoughts that were again
paralysing his tongue. He turned bleary, wild eyes on Armand.
"We have got one of them, then?" he murmured incoherently, babbling like a
drunken man.
"M'yes!" replied Chauvelin lightly; "but it is too late now for a formal denunciation
and arrest. He cannot leave Paris anyhow, and all that your men need to do is to
keep a close look-out on him. But I should send him home to-night if I were you."
Heron muttered something more, which, however, Armand did not understand.
Chauvelin's words were still ringing in his ear. Was he, then, to be set free to-
night? Free in a measure, of course, since spies were to be set to watch him--but
free, nevertheless? He could not understand Chauvelin's attitude, and his own
self-love was not a little wounded at the thought that he was of such little account