TW03 The Pimpernel Plot NEW (28 page)

“Say it and it shall be done.”

The weather cleared and Marguerite Blakeney and Andrew Ffoulkes were able to sail to Calais that afternoon. They knew that Chauvelin would be sailing at the same time, although they would probably beat him to Calais upon the Day Dream.

“A lucky break for us,” said Ffoulkes. “Percy and the others must have sailed on another boat, leaving the Day Dream in Dover. Perhaps he suspects that someone is on his trail and is being extra cautious. I certainly hope so.”

“Do you think that we shall reach them in time?” Marguerite said, anxiously.

“I have no doubt of it,” said Ffoulkes, although privately he was not so certain. He knew that Percy was to meet with him at Brogard’s inn in Cap Gris Nez; however, he was arriving a day early. He had left word for Tony Dewhurst to gather the others together and proceed on to Calais as soon as possible, but he had no way of knowing when Dewhurst would get the message. He knew that Percy was very secretive about his plans and chances were that he and the others might have gone on to Paris. If that would be the case, then there was little he and Marguerite could do. other than to wait for their return and try to get to him before Chauvelin could. Unfortunately, that would give Chauvelin all the time he needed to gather his forces together and by the time Percy and the others returned to Cap Gris Nez, it could well be crawling with soldiers. The advantage that they had was that they knew that Percy would go to Cap Gris Nez, rather than Calais. Chauvelin would waste valuable time searching for him in Calais. Still, it would not take very long for him to conduct his investigation and ascertain that no one had seen a party of English citizens loitering about. Once he came to the conclusion that Blakeney wasn’t in Calais, Cap Gris Nez would be the next logical place in which to search for him.

When they arrived at Calais, they quickly made their way to Cap Gris Nez and the Chat Gris. Brogard received them in his usual surly manner and, when questioned, replied that “the English aristo” had, indeed, been there, but that he had left. He did not say exactly when he would return, but he had kept the rooms that he had taken, as usual, so that it would seem that he would not be gone for long. Brogard then began to sound Ffoulkes out as to the possibility of selling him some wine. He did so with little enthusiasm, as though he felt guilty for being forced to do business with English aristocrats. Having established their cover as oenophiles, the members of the league now had to carry on with the deception, which meant that they were forced to buy wine every time they came to Cap Gris Nez. To curry favor with Brogard, they had bought some wine from him on several occasions. Evidently, he received some sort of a commission from whoever he got it from and he thus profited by playing the middleman. Undoubtedly, he cheated both parties involved. Ffoulkes didn’t mind that so much, but the wine he sold them was terrible. They usually dumped it off mid-Channel, because not even Briggs would drink it.

Marguerite fidgeted throughout Ffoulkes’s conversation with Brogard, but she managed to keep silent until he left them.

“How can you discuss buying wine at a time like this?” she said. “We should be looking for them, instead of—”

“Please,” Ffoulkes kept her from going on. “Lower your voice. There may be spies about, one never knows. Brogard believes us to be wine merchants to our well-heeled friends and it is necessary to keep up appearances. As for looking for Percy, there may be little we can do now. I think it would be best if you remained here while I scouted around. Have something to eat, you must be starving. The food here actually isn’t so bad. It will fill you up, at least. Then go upstairs and stay in the room. Do not come out under any circumstances until I return. Please, for all our sakes, you must do as I ask.” She nodded.

“Remember that there may be spies about,” said Ffoulkes. “Stay out of sight and speak to no one. Do not admit anyone into your room for any reason, not even Brogard. Trust no one. Percy’s life may depend upon it.”

Ffoulkes gulped the rest of his wine, grimacing. Brogard insisted upon serving him the awful stuff and he could hardly claim that he didn’t like it, since they were buying so much of it. He then ordered some food for Marguerite and hurriedly departed to search the streets of Cap Gris Nez for Percy. There was also a chance that he could be at Pere Blanchard’s cottage and therefore Ffoulkes had to look there, as well. There was a great deal of ground to cover and not much time to do it in. Before he left, he once again reminded Marguerite to remain inside her room, no matter what.

Marguerite made a somewhat halfhearted attempt to eat something, but she was unable to do much more than pick at her food. She purchased a bottle of wine from Brogard deciding that even the swill he served was better than nothing and went upstairs. She closed the door and bolted it, sat down on the bed and took a healthy swig from the bottle. The taste was horrible, but at least it was wet. Her mouth and throat felt very dry. She thought to herself, the waiting will be the worst part.

The waiting was the worst part. Hours went by that seemed like days. There was no sign of Ffoulkes. It was beginning to grow dark. Where can he be? She thought that surely Ffoulkes would have returned by now. All sorts of possibilities occurred to her. Ffoulkes had been captured by Chauvelin. Ffoulkes had injured himself somehow and was lying outside somewhere in the growing darkness. Ffoulkes had found Percy and they had both been captured. She brought the bottle to her lips once more and was astonished to discover that she had emptied it.

Yet, she did not feel drunk. She had always joked with Percy that her capacity for wine was much greater than his, but never before had she finished a whole bottle by herself. The room suddenly seemed oppressively hot. She started to get up to cross the room and open the window, but sat back down upon the bed, involuntarily. The floor seemed to be tilting of its own accord.

Fool, you fool, she thought, you’re drunk!

Of all the stupid things to do and at a time like this! Furiously, she threw the bottle at the wall and it shattered, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The window, she thought, I must open the window. Some fresh air will help to clear my head. With deliberate effort, she rose to her feet unsteadily and took several tentative steps. All right, it was not too bad. She was inebriated, but at least she still had some semblance of control. She was not falling down drunk.

Andrew will be furious with me, she thought. She staggered over to the night table, where stood a bowl of water for washing up. She emptied it over her head. Dripping wet, she walked over to the window, feeling her way along the wall and using it for support. The water combined with the chill air outside will do it, she told herself. She made it to the window and opened it, taking in deep gulps of air. Her room was on the far end of the inn, the window opening out onto the street. The entrance to the Chat Gris was just below and to her left. She heard the sounds of hoofbeats rapidly approaching and, remembering what Ffoulkes had said, she ducked back out of sight, pressing herself against the wall beside the open window.

The horses stopped in front of the inn and she held her breath.

“Percy!” she whispered. “It must be!”

“You men start at the other end of town, I’ll interrogate the innkeeper here myself. Besides, you’ve had a chance to eat your supper and I haven’t. I’m told this inn has the only decent food in all of Cap Gris Nez.”

Chauvelin!

She heard the horses galloping away; then a moment later, she heard the door downstairs open and Chauvelin call out for the innkeeper. My God, she thought, he mustn’t come here now, he mustn’t! She managed to get to the door of her room and she opened it, ignoring Ffoulkes’s instructions. She was still feeling lightheaded, but the wine didn’t seem to be affecting her as much now. She closed her eyes and tried to fight off the dizziness. She could hear Chauvelin and Brogard talking downstairs, but she could not clearly make out what was being said. Opening the door all the way, she stepped outside into the hall and went to the top of the stairs. She looked down to the first floor and she could just see the table at which Chauvelin sat. His back was to her. Brogard was standing before him, she could see the innkeeper from about the shoulders down.

“He was here, you say?” said Chauvelin. “When?” She quickly backed away without waiting to hear Brogard’s reply. The window! It looked out onto the street. If either Ffoulkes or Percy came now, she could shout down to them and warn them of the trap. She went back to her room and stood by the open window, staring outside, up and down the street. She saw a number of other people enter the inn, but none of them was Ffoulkes or Percy. Could Percy be disguised?

Ffoulkes had told her that he had become quite an actor, often resorting to elaborate disguises to effect his rescues. If he slipped into the inn in such a costume, perhaps he would not be recognized, but surely he would recognize Chauvelin and realize the danger. How long would it be before the soldiers returned to the Chat Gris?

A hand covered her mouth and another pinned her arms behind her back. She was pulled away from the window.

“Not a sound, Lady Blakeney, please.”

Whoever it was spoke to her in English, but he did not sound English. Too late, she realized that she had left her door open.

She could not see who was holding her. She began to fight against her unknown assailant.

“Struggling is useless, Lady Blakeney. I’m much stronger than you are.”

She was forced face-down onto the bed. She tried to fight, but her attacker’s claim was no idle boast. He was immensely powerful. She tried kicking at him, but it was to no avail.

“Jean, hand me that rope, will you?”

She felt her hands being bound moments later. The man holding her had uncovered her mouth to do the job and she opened it to scream, but instead found a cloth being jammed into it. She was astonished to see that the person who had gagged her so expertly and now stood there grinning at her was a mere boy. In seconds, she was immobilized, her mouth gagged, her hands tied, and her feet and knees bound together.

Suddenly, she remembered Percy’s ring. Working her fingers madly, she managed to move the top of the signet ring so that the tiny needle was exposed. Now if she only had a chance to—

“All right, Lady Blakeney, let’s see if we can’t sit you up and try to make you a bit more comfortable. At least, as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances.”

As she felt his hands on her, she gave a convulsive jerk and thrashed toward him, trying to swipe at him with her hands tied behind her back.

“What the … ow! Damn bitch scratched me. She….” The voice trailed off. Then her hands were seized and she felt the ring being wrenched off her finger.

For several moments, nothing happened. Then she heard a clearly audible sigh of relief.

“Christ, for a moment there, I thought I’d had it.” She felt herself being turned over and she looked up at the face of her assailant. He was of medium height, not as tall as Percy, and he was dark-haired. He had the build of an athlete, he was clean-shaven, and he was good-looking in a menacing sort of way. He smiled and it was an amazingly charming smile.

He held up the ring.

“You gave me quite a turn there,” Mongoose said. “It certainly would have been ironic if I’d had this thing turned against me. However, if he gave it to you, which I doubt, he did not show you how to load it. Fortunately for me, the cartridge has been spent.” He put the ring in his pocket. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? I suppose it’s just as well. Jean, get over by the window there and let me know if you see anybody coming.”

The boy complied.

“You needn’t stare at me so malevolently,” he told her. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to save his life.”

“Three men approaching,” Jean said from the other side of the room.

“It’s getting awful crowded down there, isn’t it?” said Mongoose.

“They are coming inside.”

“I rather thought they would. This is beginning to get interesting.” He went over to the window. “I estimate that it should take the soldiers at least another half an hour, maybe a little less, to work their way through town. That’s if they’re efficient.” Marguerite was looking around to see if there was anything that she could knock over or use to free herself when her gaze fell upon the door. The boy had shut and bolted it before and now something was burning its way through the wooden bolt from the other side! Her eyes widened as she saw the tiny wisps of smoke curling up from the bolt. It was as though someone was using a very fine saw on it, but she could see no blade and there was no sound whatsoever.

“More people coming,” Mongoose said. “It’s getting to be quite a—”

The door swung open silently, revealing a tall man holding a small metal tube in his right hand.

“Watch out! “ the boy said and, in the same instant, drew a slim knife from behind his neck and hurled it at the tall man holding the tube. It struck him in the chest and he fell, but whatever sound he made in striking the floor was drowned out by the noise of all the customers downstairs. There were two other men behind him, but all Marguerite saw was a thin, brilliant shaft of light that seemed to appear and disappear all in one second. She did not know how it happened, but suddenly the two other men were on the floor as well, having fallen out of her line of sight.

Mongoose closed the door quickly. He looked at Jean and grinned. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said. “I didn’t even know you carried a knife.”

Jean bent down over the first man, the one he had killed. “I thought it was a pistol,” he said. “What is—”

“Don’t touch it!”

The boy froze.

“It’s all right, “ said Mongoose

Marguerite saw that the man held an identical tube in his right hand. He bent down and took the other tube from the dead man, then removed two others from the other men.

“What is it?” Jean said. “I have never seen a weapon like that before.” He stared at the tubes Mongoose held. “How can they kill so … so….”