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Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or
Z Chapter nine. The outrage A beautiful starlit night had
followed on the day of incessant rain, a cool, balmy
late summer's night, essentially English in its suggestion of moisture
(00:20):
and scent of wet earth and dripping leaves. The magnificent coach,
drawn by four of the finest thoroughbreds in England, had
driven off along the London Road, with Sir Percy Blakeney
on the box, holding the reins in his slender, feminine hands,
and beside him Lady Blakeney, wrapped in costly furs. A
fifty mile drive on a starlit summer's night, Marguerite had
(00:43):
hailed the notion of it with delight. Sir Percy was
an enthusiastic whip. His four thoroughbreds, which had been sent
down to Dover a couple of days before, were just
sufficiently fresh and restive to add zest to the expedition,
and Marguerite reveled in anticipation of the few hours of solitude,
with the soft night breeze fanning her cheeks, her thoughts
wandering whither away. She knew from old experience that Sir
(01:07):
Percy would speak little, if at all. He had often
driven her on his beautiful coach for hours at night
from point to point, without making more than one or
two casual remarks upon the weather or the state of
the roads. He was very fond of driving by night,
and she had very quickly adopted his fancy. As she
sat next to him hour after hour, admiring the dexterous
(01:27):
certain way in which he handled the reins, she often
wondered what went on in that slow going head of his.
He never told her, and she had never cared to ask.
At the Fisherman's Rest, mister Jellyband was going the round
putting out the lights. His bar customers had all gone,
but upstairs in the snug little bedrooms, mister Jellyband had
quite a few important guests, the Comtesse de d'urnay with
(01:49):
Suzanne and the Vicomte, and there were two more bedrooms
ready for Sir Andrew Folks and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, if
the two young men should elect to honor the ancient
hostelry and stay the night. For the moment, these two
young gallants were comfortably installed in the coffee room before
the huge log fire, which, in spite of the mildness
of the evening, had been allowed to burn merrily. I say, Jelly,
(02:11):
has everyone gone, asked Lord Tony, as the worthy landlord
still busied himself clearing away glasses and mugs. Everyone as
you see, my Lord, and all your servants gone to bed,
all except the boy on duty in the bar, and
added mister Jellyband with a laugh. I expect he'll be
asleep before long, the rascal. Then we can talk here
undisturbed for half an hour at your service, my Lord.
(02:33):
I'll leave your candles on the dresser, and your rooms
are quite ready. I sleep at the top of the
house myself. But if your lordship will only call loud enough,
I dare say I shall hear. All right, Jelly, and
I say, put the lamp out the fire. I'll give
us all the light we need, and we don't want
to attract the passer by all right, my lord. Mister
Jellyband did as he was bid. He turned out the
(02:54):
quaint old lamp that hung from the rafted ceiling and
blew out all the candles. Let's have a bottle of wine,
Jelly suggested, Sir Andrew. All right, sir, Jellyband went off
to fetch the wine. The room now was quite dark,
save for the circle of ruddy and fitful light formed
by the brightly blazing logs in the hearth. Is that all, gentlemen,
asked Jellyband, as he returned with a bottle of wine
(03:17):
and a couple of glasses, which he placed on the table.
That'll do nicely, thanks, Jelly, said Lord Tony. Good night,
my lord, good night, sir, good night Jelly. The two
young men listened whilst the heavy tread of mister Jellyband
was heard echoing along the passage and staircase. Presently, even
that sound died out, and the whole of the Fisherman's
(03:37):
Rest seemed wrapped in sleep, save the two young men
drinking in silence beside the hearth. For a while, no
sound was heard even in the coffee room, save the
ticking of the old grandfather's clock and the crackling of
the burning wood. All right again, this time, folks, asked
Lord Antony. At last, Sir Andrew had been dreaming, evidently
gazing into the fire and seeing therein no doubt pretty
(04:00):
piquant face with large brown eyes and a wealth of
dark curls round a childish forehead. Yes, he said, still musing.
All right, no hitch none, Lord Antony laughed pleasantly as
he poured himself out another glass of wine. I need
not ask, I suppose whether you found the journey pleasant
this time. No, friend, you need not ask, replied Sir
(04:21):
Andrew gaily. It was all right. Then here's to her
very good health, said jovial Lord Tony. She's a bonnie lass,
though she is a French one. And here's to your courtship.
May it flourished and prosper exceedingly. He drained his glass
to the last drop, then joined his friend beside the health. Well,
you'll be doing the journey next, Tony, I expect, said
(04:43):
Sir Andrew, rousing himself from his meditations. You and hastings, certainly,
and I hope you may have as pleasant a task
as I had, and as charming a traveling companion. You
have no idea, Tony, No, I haven't, interrupted his friend pleasantly,
but I'll take your word for it. And now, he added,
whilst a sudden earnestness crept over his jovial young face,
(05:04):
how about business. The two young men drew their chairs
closer together, and instinctively, though they were alone, their voices
sank to a whisper. I saw the scarlet pimpernel alone
for a few moments in Calais, said Sir Andrew. A
day or two ago, he crossed over to England two
days before we did. He had escorted the party all
the way from Paris, dressed you'll never credit it as
(05:25):
an old market woman, and driving until they were safely
out of the city. The covered cart under which the
Comte de journay, Mademoiselle Suzan, and the Vicomte lay concealed
among the turnips and cabbages. They themselves, of course, never
suspected who their driver was. He drove them right through
a line of soldiery and a yelling mob who was
screaming a balisarristo. But the market cart got through, along
(05:47):
with some others, and the scarlet pimpernel in shawl, petticoat
and hood yelled A balisarristo louder than anybody, faith added
the young man, as his eyes glowed with enthusiasm for
the beloved leader. That man's marvel his cheek is preposterous.
I vow and that's what carries him through. Lord Antony,
whose vocabulary was more limited than that of his friend,
(06:08):
could only find an oath or two with which to
show his admiration for his leader. He wants you and
Hastings to meet him at Calais, said Sir Andrew more quietly,
on the second of next month. Let me see that
will be next Wednesday. Yes, it is, of course the
case of the Comte d'urnay, this time a dangerous task
for the Comte, who's escape from a chateau after he
(06:29):
had been declared a suspect by the Committee of Public
Safety was a masterpiece of the scarlet Pimpernel's ingenuity is
now under sentence of death. It will be rare sport
to get him out of France, and you will have
a narrow escape if you get through it. All Saint
just has actually gone to meet him. Of course, no
one suspects Saint Just as yet. But after that, to
get them both out of the country in faith twill
(06:52):
be a tough job, and tax even the ingenuity of
our chief. I hope I may yet have orders to
be of the party. Have you any special instructions for me? Yes?
Rather more precise ones than usual. It appears that the
Republican government have sent an accredited agent over to England,
a man named Chauvelin, who is said to be terribly
bitter against our league, and determined to discover the identity
(07:15):
of our leader, so that he may have him kidnapped
the next time he attempts to set foot in France.
This Chauvelin has brought a whole army of spies with him,
and until the Chief has sampled the lot, he thinks
we should meet as seldom as possible on the business
of the League, and on no account should talk to
each other in public places. For a time, when he
wants to speak to us, he will contrive to let
(07:35):
us know. The two young men were both bending over
the fire, for the blaze had died down, and only
a red glow from the dying embers cast a lurid
light on a narrow semicircle in front of the hearth.
The rest of the room lay buried in complete gloom.
Sir Andrew had taken a pocket book from his pocket
and drawn therefrom a paper, which he unfolded, and together
(07:56):
they tried to read it by the dim red firelight.
So intent were they upon this, so wrapped up in
the cause the business they had so much at heart,
So precious was this document, which came from the very
hand of their adored leader, that they had eyes and
ears only for that they lost count of the sounds
around them, of the dropping of the crisp ash from
the grate, of the monotonous ticking of the clock, of
(08:18):
the soft, almost imperceptible rustle of something on the floor.
Close beside them. A figure had emerged from under one
of the benches. With snakelike, noiseless movements, it crept closer
and closer to the young men, not breathing, only gliding
along the floor in the inky blackness of the room.
You are to read these instructions and commit them to memory,
(08:40):
said Sir Andrew, then destroy them. He was about to
replace the letter case into his pocket when a tiny
slip of paper fluttered from it and fell on to
the floor. Lord Antony stooped and picked it up. What's that,
he asked. I don't know, replied Sir Andrew. It dropped
out of your pocket just now. It certainly does not
seem to be with the other paper. Strange. I wonder
(09:03):
when it got there. It is from the chief, he added,
glancing at the paper. Both stooped to dry and decipher
this last tiny scrap of paper on which a few
words had been hastily scrawled, when suddenly a slight noise
attracted their attention, which seemed to come from the passage beyond.
What's that? Said both instinctively, Lord Antony crossed the room
(09:24):
towards the door, which he threw open quickly, and suddenly,
at that very moment he received a stunning blow between
the eyes, which threw him back violently into the room. Simultaneously,
the crouching, snakelike figure in the gloom had jumped up
and hurled itself from behind the unsuspecting Sir Andrew, felling
him to the ground. All this occurred within the short
space of two or three seconds, and before either Lord
(09:45):
Antony or Sir Andrew had time or chanced to utter
a cry or to make the faintest struggle, they were
each seized by two men. A muffler was quickly tied
round the mouth of each, and they were pinioned to
one another, back to back, their arms, hands and legs
securely fastened. One man had, in the meanwhile, quietly shut
the door. He wore a mask and now stood motionless
(10:07):
while the others completed their work. All safe, citoyen, said
one of the men, as he took a final survey
of the bonds which secured the two young men. Good,
replied the man at the door. Now search their pockets
and give me all the papers you find. This was
promptly and quietly done. The masked man, having taken possession
of all the papers, listened for a moment or two
(10:28):
if there were any sound within the fisherman's rest. Evidently
satisfied that this dastardly outrage had remained unheard, he once
more opened the door and pointed peremptorily down the passage.
The four men lifted Sir Andrew and Lord Antony from
the ground, and as quietly as noiselessly as they had come,
they bore the two pinioned young gallons out of the
(10:48):
inn and along the dover road into the gloom beyond.
In the coffee room, the masked leader of this daring
attempt was quickly glancing through the stolen papers. Not a
bad day's work on the whole, he muttered, as he
quietly took off his mask and his pale fox like
eyes glittered in the red glow of the fire. Not
a bad day's work. He opened one or two letters
(11:09):
from Sir Andrew Folk's pocket book, noted the tiny scrap
of paper which the two young men had only just
had time to read. But one letter, specifically signed armand
Saint just seemed to give him strange satisfaction. Armand Saint
just a traitor, after all, he murmured. Now, fair Marguerite Blakeney,
he added, viciously between his clenched teeth, I think that
(11:31):
you will help me to find the scarlet pimpernel. End
of Chapter nine. Dream Audio Books hopes you have enjoyed
this program.
Dream Audio Books presents The Scarlet Pimpernel by baroness or
Z Chapter nine. The outrage A beautiful starlit night had
followed on the day of incessant rain, a cool, balmy
late summer's night, essentially English in its suggestion of moisture
(00:20):
and scent of wet earth and dripping leaves. The magnificent coach,
drawn by four of the finest thoroughbreds in England, had
driven off along the London Road, with Sir Percy Blakeney
on the box, holding the reins in his slender, feminine hands,
and beside him Lady Blakeney, wrapped in costly furs. A
fifty mile drive on a starlit summer's night, Marguerite had
(00:43):
hailed the notion of it with delight. Sir Percy was
an enthusiastic whip. His four thoroughbreds, which had been sent
down to Dover a couple of days before, were just
sufficiently fresh and restive to add zest to the expedition,
and Marguerite reveled in anticipation of the few hours of solitude,
with the soft night breeze fanning her cheeks, her thoughts
wandering whither away. She knew from old experience that Sir
(01:07):
Percy would speak little, if at all. He had often
driven her on his beautiful coach for hours at night
from point to point, without making more than one or
two casual remarks upon the weather or the state of
the roads. He was very fond of driving by night,
and she had very quickly adopted his fancy. As she
sat next to him hour after hour, admiring the dexterous
(01:27):
certain way in which he handled the reins, she often
wondered what went on in that slow going head of his.
He never told her, and she had never cared to ask.
At the Fisherman's Rest, mister Jellyband was going the round
putting out the lights. His bar customers had all gone,
but upstairs in the snug little bedrooms, mister Jellyband had
quite a few important guests, the Comtesse de d'urnay with
(01:49):
Suzanne and the Vicomte, and there were two more bedrooms
ready for Sir Andrew Folks and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, if
the two young men should elect to honor the ancient
hostelry and stay the night. For the moment, these two
young gallants were comfortably installed in the coffee room before
the huge log fire, which, in spite of the mildness
of the evening, had been allowed to burn merrily. I say, Jelly,
(02:11):
has everyone gone, asked Lord Tony, as the worthy landlord
still busied himself clearing away glasses and mugs. Everyone as
you see, my Lord, and all your servants gone to bed,
all except the boy on duty in the bar, and
added mister Jellyband with a laugh. I expect he'll be
asleep before long, the rascal. Then we can talk here
undisturbed for half an hour at your service, my Lord.
(02:33):
I'll leave your candles on the dresser, and your rooms
are quite ready. I sleep at the top of the
house myself. But if your lordship will only call loud enough,
I dare say I shall hear. All right, Jelly, and
I say, put the lamp out the fire. I'll give
us all the light we need, and we don't want
to attract the passer by all right, my lord. Mister
Jellyband did as he was bid. He turned out the
(02:54):
quaint old lamp that hung from the rafted ceiling and
blew out all the candles. Let's have a bottle of wine,
Jelly suggested, Sir Andrew. All right, sir, Jellyband went off
to fetch the wine. The room now was quite dark,
save for the circle of ruddy and fitful light formed
by the brightly blazing logs in the hearth. Is that all, gentlemen,
asked Jellyband, as he returned with a bottle of wine
(03:17):
and a couple of glasses, which he placed on the table.
That'll do nicely, thanks, Jelly, said Lord Tony. Good night,
my lord, good night, sir, good night Jelly. The two
young men listened whilst the heavy tread of mister Jellyband
was heard echoing along the passage and staircase. Presently, even
that sound died out, and the whole of the Fisherman's
(03:37):
Rest seemed wrapped in sleep, save the two young men
drinking in silence beside the hearth. For a while, no
sound was heard even in the coffee room, save the
ticking of the old grandfather's clock and the crackling of
the burning wood. All right again, this time, folks, asked
Lord Antony. At last, Sir Andrew had been dreaming, evidently
gazing into the fire and seeing therein no doubt pretty
(04:00):
piquant face with large brown eyes and a wealth of
dark curls round a childish forehead. Yes, he said, still musing.
All right, no hitch none, Lord Antony laughed pleasantly as
he poured himself out another glass of wine. I need
not ask, I suppose whether you found the journey pleasant
this time. No, friend, you need not ask, replied Sir
(04:21):
Andrew gaily. It was all right. Then here's to her
very good health, said jovial Lord Tony. She's a bonnie lass,
though she is a French one. And here's to your courtship.
May it flourished and prosper exceedingly. He drained his glass
to the last drop, then joined his friend beside the health. Well,
you'll be doing the journey next, Tony, I expect, said
(04:43):
Sir Andrew, rousing himself from his meditations. You and hastings, certainly,
and I hope you may have as pleasant a task
as I had, and as charming a traveling companion. You
have no idea, Tony, No, I haven't, interrupted his friend pleasantly,
but I'll take your word for it. And now, he added,
whilst a sudden earnestness crept over his jovial young face,
(05:04):
how about business. The two young men drew their chairs
closer together, and instinctively, though they were alone, their voices
sank to a whisper. I saw the scarlet pimpernel alone
for a few moments in Calais, said Sir Andrew. A
day or two ago, he crossed over to England two
days before we did. He had escorted the party all
the way from Paris, dressed you'll never credit it as
(05:25):
an old market woman, and driving until they were safely
out of the city. The covered cart under which the
Comte de journay, Mademoiselle Suzan, and the Vicomte lay concealed
among the turnips and cabbages. They themselves, of course, never
suspected who their driver was. He drove them right through
a line of soldiery and a yelling mob who was
screaming a balisarristo. But the market cart got through, along
(05:47):
with some others, and the scarlet pimpernel in shawl, petticoat
and hood yelled A balisarristo louder than anybody, faith added
the young man, as his eyes glowed with enthusiasm for
the beloved leader. That man's marvel his cheek is preposterous.
I vow and that's what carries him through. Lord Antony,
whose vocabulary was more limited than that of his friend,
(06:08):
could only find an oath or two with which to
show his admiration for his leader. He wants you and
Hastings to meet him at Calais, said Sir Andrew more quietly,
on the second of next month. Let me see that
will be next Wednesday. Yes, it is, of course the
case of the Comte d'urnay, this time a dangerous task
for the Comte, who's escape from a chateau after he
(06:29):
had been declared a suspect by the Committee of Public
Safety was a masterpiece of the scarlet Pimpernel's ingenuity is
now under sentence of death. It will be rare sport
to get him out of France, and you will have
a narrow escape if you get through it. All Saint
just has actually gone to meet him. Of course, no
one suspects Saint Just as yet. But after that, to
get them both out of the country in faith twill
(06:52):
be a tough job, and tax even the ingenuity of
our chief. I hope I may yet have orders to
be of the party. Have you any special instructions for me? Yes?
Rather more precise ones than usual. It appears that the
Republican government have sent an accredited agent over to England,
a man named Chauvelin, who is said to be terribly
bitter against our league, and determined to discover the identity
(07:15):
of our leader, so that he may have him kidnapped
the next time he attempts to set foot in France.
This Chauvelin has brought a whole army of spies with him,
and until the Chief has sampled the lot, he thinks
we should meet as seldom as possible on the business
of the League, and on no account should talk to
each other in public places. For a time, when he
wants to speak to us, he will contrive to let
(07:35):
us know. The two young men were both bending over
the fire, for the blaze had died down, and only
a red glow from the dying embers cast a lurid
light on a narrow semicircle in front of the hearth.
The rest of the room lay buried in complete gloom.
Sir Andrew had taken a pocket book from his pocket
and drawn therefrom a paper, which he unfolded, and together
(07:56):
they tried to read it by the dim red firelight.
So intent were they upon this, so wrapped up in
the cause the business they had so much at heart,
So precious was this document, which came from the very
hand of their adored leader, that they had eyes and
ears only for that they lost count of the sounds
around them, of the dropping of the crisp ash from
the grate, of the monotonous ticking of the clock, of
(08:18):
the soft, almost imperceptible rustle of something on the floor.
Close beside them. A figure had emerged from under one
of the benches. With snakelike, noiseless movements, it crept closer
and closer to the young men, not breathing, only gliding
along the floor in the inky blackness of the room.
You are to read these instructions and commit them to memory,
(08:40):
said Sir Andrew, then destroy them. He was about to
replace the letter case into his pocket when a tiny
slip of paper fluttered from it and fell on to
the floor. Lord Antony stooped and picked it up. What's that,
he asked. I don't know, replied Sir Andrew. It dropped
out of your pocket just now. It certainly does not
seem to be with the other paper. Strange. I wonder
(09:03):
when it got there. It is from the chief, he added,
glancing at the paper. Both stooped to dry and decipher
this last tiny scrap of paper on which a few
words had been hastily scrawled, when suddenly a slight noise
attracted their attention, which seemed to come from the passage beyond.
What's that? Said both instinctively, Lord Antony crossed the room
(09:24):
towards the door, which he threw open quickly, and suddenly,
at that very moment he received a stunning blow between
the eyes, which threw him back violently into the room. Simultaneously,
the crouching, snakelike figure in the gloom had jumped up
and hurled itself from behind the unsuspecting Sir Andrew, felling
him to the ground. All this occurred within the short
space of two or three seconds, and before either Lord
(09:45):
Antony or Sir Andrew had time or chanced to utter
a cry or to make the faintest struggle, they were
each seized by two men. A muffler was quickly tied
round the mouth of each, and they were pinioned to
one another, back to back, their arms, hands and legs
securely fastened. One man had, in the meanwhile, quietly shut
the door. He wore a mask and now stood motionless
(10:07):
while the others completed their work. All safe, citoyen, said
one of the men, as he took a final survey
of the bonds which secured the two young men. Good,
replied the man at the door. Now search their pockets
and give me all the papers you find. This was
promptly and quietly done. The masked man, having taken possession
of all the papers, listened for a moment or two
(10:28):
if there were any sound within the fisherman's rest. Evidently
satisfied that this dastardly outrage had remained unheard, he once
more opened the door and pointed peremptorily down the passage.
The four men lifted Sir Andrew and Lord Antony from
the ground, and as quietly as noiselessly as they had come,
they bore the two pinioned young gallons out of the
(10:48):
inn and along the dover road into the gloom beyond.
In the coffee room, the masked leader of this daring
attempt was quickly glancing through the stolen papers. Not a
bad day's work on the whole, he muttered, as he
quietly took off his mask and his pale fox like
eyes glittered in the red glow of the fire. Not
a bad day's work. He opened one or two letters
(11:09):
from Sir Andrew Folk's pocket book, noted the tiny scrap
of paper which the two young men had only just
had time to read. But one letter, specifically signed armand
Saint just seemed to give him strange satisfaction. Armand Saint
just a traitor, after all, he murmured. Now, fair Marguerite Blakeney,
he added, viciously between his clenched teeth, I think that
(11:31):
you will help me to find the scarlet pimpernel. End
of Chapter nine. Dream Audio Books hopes you have enjoyed
this program.
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