The Death-Trap — The Scarlet Pimpernel

Brogard, who spat on English guests an hour ago, now spreads a holey cloth, wipes glasses, and dusts a chair. The tall Englishman's height, or the weight of his fist, has bought a little respect. From the loft Marguerite watches those mute plates and almost closes her eyes for happiness. In a few minutes she will run down the ladder, let Percy see her, and tell him she would die with him. She already knows she cannot keep him. After the warning she will have to watch him go to the hut.

The step that comes is not his. Chauvelin enters as a curé, throws open the soutane, and shows the tricolour scarf. Brogard folds from contempt into cringing. Desgas listens at the inner door, then reports: the English schooner was last seen making west toward Cap Gris Nez; Captain Jutley's patrols have watched every road that converges here; the beach and cliffs have been searched; nobody knows a hut by the name Père Blanchard. Chauvelin wants reinforcements, especially along the beach. Any tall stranger is to be shadowed, not lost, and one rider is to report here. Desgas is to bring half a dozen men back in ten minutes.

The legal shape of the snare becomes clear. Leave the fugitives in false safety until Percy joins them, then take him red-handed aiding royalists, so even Britain cannot claim him. No shooting except as a last resort. He wants the tall stranger alive. Marguerite sees the pale eyes and understands there will be no soldier's quick death, only a rat's gnawing once the eagle is clipped. She can do nothing from the loft. Chauvelin sits down to the supper laid for Percy and chuckles. Then a gay, fresh voice starts singing God save the King.