Her impetuous act might prove the death-signal of the man she would have died to save.
"Long to reign over us, God save the King!" sang the voice more lustily than ever.

The next moment the door was thrown open and there was dead silence for a second or so.
Marguerite could not see the door; she held her breath, trying to imagine what was happening.
Percy Blakeney on entering had, of course, at once caught sight of the CURE at the table; his hesitation lasted less than five seconds, the next moment, Marguerite saw his tall figure crossing the room, whilst he called in a loud, cheerful voice,-- "Hello, there! no one about?
Where's that fool Brogard ?" He wore the magnificent coat and riding-suit which he had on when Marguerite last saw him at Richmond, so many hours ago.

As usual, his get-up was absolutely irreproachable, the fine Mechlin lace at his neck and wrists were immaculate and white, his fair hair was carefully brushed, and he carried his eyeglass with his usual affected gesture.

In fact, at this moment, Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart., might have been on his way to a garden-party at the Prince of Wales', instead of deliberately, cold-bloodedly running his head in a trap, set for him by his deadliest enemy.
He stood for a moment in the middle of the room, whilst Marguerite, absolutely paralysed with horror, seemed unable even to breathe.
Every moment she expected that Chauvelin would give a signal, that the place would fill with soldiers, that she would rush down and help Percy to sell his life dearly.

As he stood there, suavely unconscious, she very nearly screamed out to him,-- "Fly, Percy!--'tis your deadly enemy!--fly before it be too late!" But she had not time even to do that, for the next moment Blakeney quietly walked to the table, and, jovially clapped the CURE on the back, said in his own drawly, affected way,-- "Odds's fish!.