All these places are given as the point where this meddlesome Englishman has bidden the traitor de Tournay and others to meet his emissaries.

But it seems that he has decided not to send his emissaries, that 'he will start himself to-morrow.' Now, one of these persons whom I shall see anon in the supper-room, will be journeying to Calais, and I shall follow that person, until I have tracked him to where those fugitive aristocrats await him; for that person, fair lady, will be the man whom I have sought for, for nearly a year, the man whose energies has outdone me, whose ingenuity has baffled me, whose audacity has set me wondering--yes! me!--who have seen a trick or two in my time--the mysterious and elusive Scarlet Pimpernel." "And Armand ?" she pleaded.
"Have I ever broken my word?
I promise you that the day the Scarlet Pimpernel and I start for France, I will send you that imprudent letter of his by special courier.

More than that, I will pledge you the word of France, that the day I lay hands on that meddlesome Englishman, St.Just will be here in England, safe in the arms of his charming sister." And with a deep and elaborate bow and another look at the clock, Chauvelin glided out of the room.
It seemed to Marguerite that through all the noise, all the din of music, dancing, and laughter, she could hear his cat-like tread, gliding through the vast reception-rooms; that she could hear him go down the massive staircase, reach the dining-room and open the door.

Fate HAD decided, had made her speak, had made her do a vile and abominable thing, for the sake of the brother she loved.

She lay back in her chair, passive and still, seeing the figure of her relentless enemy ever present before her aching eyes.
When Chauvelin reached the supper-room it was quite deserted.