I think maman will consent," she added thoughtfully, "and I shall be--oh! so happy--but, of course, nothing is to be thought of until papa is safe.

.

.

." Marguerite started.

Suzanne's father! the Comte de Tournay!--one of those whose life would be jeopardised if Chauvelin succeeded in establishing the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
She had understood all along from the Comtesse, and also from one or two of the members of the league, that their mysterious leader had pledged his honour to bring the fugitive Comte de Tournay safely out of France.
Whilst little Suzanne--unconscious of all--save her own all-important little secret, went prattling on, Marguerite's thoughts went back to the events of the past night.
Armand's peril, Chauvelin's threat, his cruel "Either--or--" which she had accepted.
And then her own work in the matter, which should have culminated at one o'clock in Lord Grenville's dining-room, when the relentless agent of the French Government would finally learn who was this mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, who so openly defied an army of spies and placed himself so boldly, and for mere sport, on the side of the enemies of France.
Since then she had heard nothing from Chauvelin.