His only anxiety now was whether the Englishman would write that letter.
"Bah! he'll do it," he would say whenever he thought the whole matter over: "Sacre tonnerre! but 'tis an easy means to save his own skin." "You would sign such a letter without hesitation, eh, Citizen Collot," said Chauvelin, with well-concealed sarcasm, on one occasion when his colleague discussed the all-absorbing topic with him; "you would show no hesitation, if your life were at stake, and you were given the choice between writing that letter and...

the guillotine ?" "Parbleu!" responded Collot with conviction.
"More especially," continued Chauvelin drily, "if a million francs were promised you as well ?" "Sacre Anglais!" swore Collot angrily, "you don't propose giving him that money, do you ?" "We'll place it ready to his hand, at any rate, so that it should appear as if he had actually taken it." Collot looked up at his colleague in ungrudging admiration.

Chauvelin had indeed left nothing undone, had thought everything out in this strangely conceived scheme for the destruction of the enemy of France.
"But in the name of all the dwellers in hell, Citizen," admonished Collot, "guard that letter well, once it is in your hands." "I'll do better than that," said Chauvelin, "I will hand it over to you, Citizen Collot, and you shall ride with it to Paris at once." "To-night!" assented Collot with a shout of triumph, as he brought his grimy fist crashing down on the table, "I'll have a horse ready saddled at this very gate, and an escort of mounted men...

we'll ride like hell's own furies and not pause to breathe until that letter is in Citizen Robespierre's hands." "Well thought of, Citizen," said Chauvelin approvingly.

"I pray you give the necessary orders, that the horses be ready saddled, and the men booted and spurred, and waiting at the Gayole gate, at seven o'clock this evening." "I wish the letter were written and safely in our hands by now." "Nay! the Englishman will have it ready by this evening, never fear.