He shook his head and muttered swiftly under his breath:

'No – in fact, they are going away. Be patient a little longer.'

He listened again but the council seemed to be breaking up. There was a noise of seats being scraped on the floor and a clatter of booted feet. All the voices began speaking at once, then Bruslart's rose above the rest.

'To horse, gentlemen! For God and for the King! Tonight, at last, fortune is with us!'

This time, it was beyond a doubt. They were going. The footsteps died away, the voices faded and the lights vanished. In a few moments, Marianne and Arcadius found themselves once more alone with the heavy silence and the dim, ruddy light of their dungeon. Jolival left his post by the bars and went over to the brazier. Marianne saw that he was avoiding her eyes.

'You heard what they were saying?' she asked.

He nodded affirmatively but did not open his mouth. He seemed to be deep in thought. However, Marianne was too anxious to inspect his silence.

'Where are they going?' she asked with a touch of irritation. 'Why is fortune on their side tonight? What are they going to do?'

Jolival looked at her at last. His mouse-like face, usually so cheerful, was overcast as though by some distressing thought. He seemed to hesitate for a moment then, as Marianne came and clutched his arm anxiously, he said at last:

'I am in two minds whether to tell you but whether or not they are successful you will hear anyway. They have learned from one of their spies in the palace that the Emperor goes tonight to Malmaison. The former Empress is unwell. She has also learned that the Emperor's choice of a wife has fallen definitely on the Austrian arch-duchess and the news has affected her badly. The Emperor's decision to go was taken only an hour ago.'

'And?' Marianne felt her heart beat faster at the mention of the word 'Emperor', only to contract painfully at the news of his impending marriage.

'And they mean to carry out the old plan of Caboudal and Hyde de Neuville, the old plan which ever since the Consulate, Bruslart has always failed to carry off. They will set a trap for Napoleon when he leaves Malmaison, probably very late, stop his carriage, overcome his guard and then carry him off and—'

'Kill him!' Marianne almost screamed.

'Bruslart said no. He wants only to carry off the Emperor, get him across the channel and deliver him bound hand and foot to England – unless he will consent to fight a duel. A duel with Napoleon has always been the chevalier's great dream.'

'Is he mad?'

'No. He is a paladin, in his way. He believes only in fair fight and you could say that he only became a conspirator because there was nothing else for him to do and because there was no longer a royalist army. But Bruslart might be killed in such a duel or, if there is not one, the others may force the chevalier's hand. The stake is high, this time, and there are some, I know – your friend Morvan among them – who want Napoleon's head at all costs.'

'Why?'

Jolival chuckled cynically.

'Its very simple. The Duke of Medina-Coeli, the richest of all the Grandees of Spain, has offered half his vast fortune to whoever kills Napoleon and brings proof of his death.'

In the silence that followed, Marianne was able to gauge the depth of her feelings. Her heart was beating uncontrollably. She was trembling in every limb but she forced herself to be calm.

'Why did they say fortune was with them?'

'Because the journey was decided very quickly. There will be only a small escort to avoid attracting attention. And tonight, the conspirators number twenty-five at least.'

'But Fouché? Fouché knows all, sees all. Can Fouché not prevent this plot like all the others?'

'Fouché will be taken by surprise. Besides which, it must be admitted that for some time now Fouché seems to have been relaxing his care a little. Deliberately, no doubt, because he is a man who does nothing without a reason. My dear child – it is very possible that in a short while we shall have the great honour of sharing our dungeon with his majesty our Emperor and King, which will give me both the greatest possible joy and at the same time the utmost regret.'

Marianne bravely thrust away the sweet yet agonizing picture he conjured up of her love, in fetters, joining her in her dungeon.

'But we have to stop it! We must! I know Morvan. He will not let Bruslart bring him here. In the dark, in a struggle, a pistol shot is soon fired. Oh my God! I must go to him! I cannot stand by and see him murdered. Not him! These villains are going to kill him! I tell you, they are going to kill him!'

She had flung herself blindly on the bars, gripping them with both hands and trying to shake them loose by sheer force but they did not so much as quiver. The rusty iron skinned her hands but she did not feel the pain, any more than she saw the prison around her. What she saw was a road at night, in the snow, a carriage halted, perhaps overturned, the horses struggling in the grip of masked men, figures stretched out in the snow which was already turning red, an unarmed man held by the conspirators and Morvan laughing evilly as he held a pistol to the head of that man, the man she loved.

'I won't let them,' she screamed desperately, resisting with all her strength Jolival's attempts to prise her away from her lacerating grip on the bars. 'I won't let them kill him! I love him! Napoleon!'

In the confusion of her mind, she cried aloud for the first time the name which had haunted her ever since she had learned the truth and which she had murmured to herself many times in her fever. Arcadius had to gag her with his hand to silence her, and with a supreme effort he managed at last to tear her away from the bars.

'You will rouse the whole rat's nest!' he scolded. 'Have you forgotten we are waiting for someone?'

It was true. She had forgotten Gracchus-Hannibal Pioche. But her hysterical panic was over in an instant and Marianne crumpled on to the ground, put her head in her hands and wept.

'He will not come now. He must have heard those men and realized that there was no chance tonight. Even supposing he came at all •—'

'And why shouldn't he have come?' Jolival said roughly. 'Myself, I trust that lad! He's got honest eyes. He'll do all he can to get you out of here.'

'Maybe. But not tonight. He won't come back tonight. And, oh my God, the Riders must be on the road to Malmaison by now—'

As though to shut out the sound of galloping hoof-beats ringing in her head Marianne put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. Never in her whole life had she so longed for oblivion in that moment. Consequently, she did not see Arcadius go quickly to the bars and grip them in his turn as, from the depths of the underground cavern, came the sound of a stone falling. It was followed by another.

In a flash, Arcadius was on her shaking her unmercifully by the shoulders.

'Listen! Only listen! He's coming! He is breaking down the wall again.'

Marianne jerked upright, eyes wide, and gripping Arcadius's hand in her own, she listened with all her soul. It was true, someone was coming down the blind passage. Hardly daring to breathe, she followed the boy's progress. There was the sound of someone running and all at once, she saw Gracchus-Hannibal burst out of the passage. Hard on his heels was the much taller figure of a man and, the next moment, Jason Beaufort's large frame was towering on the other side of the bars. Marianne gave a cry of joy.

'You! God be praised, you have come! You had not left!'

She saw the blue eyes laughing in his tanned face and felt her cold hands folded in the American's warm ones as he reached through the bars to hold and clasp them.

'Not quite!' he said gaily. 'I leave tomorrow but no power on earth would have prevented me from getting you out of this new pickle you've got yourself into, you little fool! Come now, don't cry. We'll have you out of there in a trice. Look there,' he added, turning to Gracchus-Hannibal who, armed with a file almost bigger than himself was bravely attacking one of the bars with Arcadius's help, explaining as he worked that they had been forced to wait for the conspirators to go away.

'I was up top,' he said, 'and Monsieur Beaufort down below.'

'Hurry!' Marianne begged. 'We must get out of here quickly! Or, no—'

Another thought came to her. What did her own fate matter if Napoleon were safe?

'Leave us here and go and warn him!'

'Warn who?' Beaufort exclaimed in surprise. 'You are madder than I thought. Let us get on with our work.'

'No, please, listen to me – it is too important.'

She explained in a few short sentences the plot that was afoot and the Emperor's mortal danger. He listened with a frown, not pausing in his work but when she had finished he threw down the file with an exasperated shrug.

'We are not leaving here without you. Much as I admire Napoleon, I will not leave you any longer in the hands of these savages. Especially if they come back thwarted. We'll not do it that way, kid.' The last part of this speech was addressed to Gracchus-Hannibal who was bending to pick up the file. Glancing at Arcadius, Jason went on abruptly: 'If you shout, can they hear you up there?'

'Yes. I've summoned the lackeys in this charming hotel before now by bellowing like a bull at need.'

'Then shout, my friend, shout as loud as you can, but get your jailer down here! I'll take care of the rest. Go on now, and do your best!'

Jolival opened his mouth and let out a sustained yell of such power that Marianne jumped. Beaufort, meanwhile, hid out of sight round the corner of the blind passage. His lean, muscular form, moulded into some kind of seaman's sweater and tight black breeches, merged so completely into the shadows of the passage that after a moment even Marianne could not see him. She did not understand what he meant to do but Arcadius was still yelling with complete conviction. She would never have believed that he could own such a powerful voice. It rolled among the dripping vaults until the whole place rang with it. When at last he stopped for breath, they could hear the sound of running footsteps followed by the angry voice of Requin.