Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 61: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ES A a em € - ~ * went by <s Cia am the tree. Since then he had made a careful investigation of the chateau, and soon he was able to settle it in his own mind as to which room had been the boudoir of Madame la Marquise in the past. It was a small apartment, having direct access to the first landing of the staircase, and the one window gave on the rose garden at the back of the house. Inside the monu- mental hearth, at an arm’s length up the wide chimney, a receptacle had been con- trived in the brickwork, with a small iron door which opened and closed with a secret spring. Chauvelin, whose nefarious calling had rendered him proficient in such mat- ters, had soon mastered the workings of that spring. He could now open and close the iron door at will. Up to a late hour on the sixth night of this weary waiting the receptacle inside the chimney was still empty. That night Chauvelin had determined to spend at the chateau. He could not have rested else- where. Even his colleague, Lebel, could not know what the possession of those papers would mean to the discredited agent of the Com- mittee of Public Safety. With them in his hands, he could demand rehabilitation; he could purchase immunity from those sneers which had been so galling to his arrogant soul—sneers which had. become more and more marked, more and more unendurable, above all, more and more menacing as he piled up failure on failure with every encounter with the Scarlet _ Pimpernel. ’ Immunity and rehabilitation! This Would mean that he could once more measure his wits and his power with that audacious enemy who had brought about his downfall. “In the name of Satan, bring us those papers!’ Robespierre himself had cried with unwonted passion ere he sent him out on this important mission. ‘None of us could stand the scandal of such disclosures. _ It would mean absolute ruin for us all.” And Chauvelin that night, as soon as the shades of evening had drawn in, took up his stand in the chateau in the small Inner room which was contiguous to the boudoir. Here he sat beside the open window for hour upon hour, his every sense on the alert, listening for the first footfall upon the gravel see below. Though the hours eaden-footed, he was neither - — “ee ? “ —— -?- : x. oF 5! excited nor anxious. The Clamette family was such.a precious hostage that the Montorgueils were bound to comply with Lucile’s demand for the papers by every dictate of honor'and of humanity. “While we have those people in our power,” Chauvelin had reiterated to him- self more than once during the course of his long vigil, “even that meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel can do nothing to save those cursed Montorgueils.” The night was dark and still. Nota breath of air stirred the branches of the trees or the shrubberies in the park; any footsteps, however wary, must echo through that perfect and absolute silence. Chauve- lin’s keen, pale eyes tried to pierce the gloom in the direction whence in all proba- bility the aristo would come. Vaguely he wondered if it would be Henn de Montor- gueil or the old marquis himself who would bring the papers. “Bah! Whichever one it is,’’ he mut- tered, “we can easily get the other, once those abominable papers are in our hands. And, even if both the aristos escape,” he added mentally, “‘’tis no matter, once we have the papers.” Far away a distant church bell struck the midnight hour. The stillness of the air had become oppressive. A kind of torpor born of intense fatigue lulled the Terrorist’s senses to somnolence. His head fell forward on his breast. VI SUDDENLY a shiver of excite- ment went right through him. He was fully awake now, with glowing eyes wide open and the icy calm of perfect confidence ruling every nerve. The sound of stealthy footsteps had reached his ear. He could see nothing, either outside or in, but his fingers felt for the pistol which he carried in his belt. The aristo was evi- dently alone; only one solitary footstep was approaching the chateau. Chauvelin had left ajar the door which gave on the boudoir. The staircase was on the other side of that fateful room, and the door leading to that was closed. A few minutes of tense expectancy went by. Then through the silence there came the sound of furtive footsteps on the stairs, a a _ the creaking of a loose peed and finally s the stealthy opening of the door, ~ * FT a4 Se te ee +. comicbooks.com