Chauvelin listened to all these explanations with some impatience. The child was nothing to him, but the Scarlet Pimpernel had desired to rescue it from out of the clutches of the Leridans; had risked his all—and lost it—in order to effect that rescue! That in itself was a sufficient inducement for Chauvelin to interest himself in the execution of Marat's vengeance, whatever its original mainspring may have been.
At any rate, now he felt satisfied that the child was safe, and that the Leridans were impervious to threats or bribes which might land them on the guillotine.
All that they would own to was to being afraid.
"Afraid of what?" queried Chauvelin sharply.
That the brat may be kidnapped … stolen. Oh! he could not be decoyed … they were too watchful for that! But apparently there were mysterious agencies at work….
"Mysterious agencies!" Chauvelin laughed aloud at the suggestion. The "mysterious agency" was even now rotting in an obscure cell at the Abbaye. What other powers could be at work on behalf of the brat?
Well, the Leridans had had a warning!
What warning?
"A letter," the man said gruffly. "But as neither my wife nor I can read—"
"Why did you not speak of this before?" broke in Chauvelin roughly. "Let me see the letter."