An Adventure
of the Scarlet
Pimpernel
Soe Baroness
Orcz
WH U Service
Copyright Baroness Orczy
THE STORY
CHAPTER 1.—The Scarlet Pimper-
nel, known during the French revolu-
tion as the most intrepid adventurer
in Europe, is an Englishman. His
identity is unknown, but in England
he is hailed as a hero. In France he
is feared and hated by the terrorists
as a spy, as he has rescued many un- j
fortunates from the guillotine and
brought them safely into England. His
recent rescue of the Tournon-d’Agen-
ays makes him the toast of the hour
and he is the topic of conversation at
a party given by Sir Percy Blakeney,
popular London dandy (who fis the
Scarlet Pimpernel) and his beautiful
wife, Marguerite. Lady Alicia Nugget
coaxes Sir Andrew Ffoulkes to tell of
the latest adventure of the Scarlet
Pimpernel. .
CHAPTER IL.—The failure of Lauzet,
one of the French terrorists, chief of
the section in which the Scarlet Pim-
pernel has recently been operating, to
prevent the escape of the Tournon-d’
Agenavs brings the condemnation of
the government upon him, and he plans
with Armand Chauvelin, the bitterest
enemv of the Scarlet Pimpernel, to lay
a trap for the English spy. Chauvelin
has given up a high position to devote
his entire time to the work of cap-
turing English spies operating in
France—in particular, the Scarlet Pim-
pernel.
CHAPTER IIL.—Lauzet causes the
arrest of the Deseze family, father,
mother, and little daughter, on a
charge of ‘treason, and has it noised
about the small city of Moisson, home
of the Deseze family, that the prison-
ers are being taken to Paris under a
feeble escort. In reality six picked
men, armed to the teeth, are to be
concealed in the coach with the pris-
oners. Lauzet and Chauvelin hope to
lure the Scarlet Pimpernel into an at-
tack on the coach and capture him.
The vehicle is driven by Charles-Marie,
a half-wit, who is known to have no
fight in him,
CHAPTER 1IV.—The coach leaves
Moisson in a downpour of rain. That
morning the small city is crowded with
farmers and drovers bringing their cat-
tle to market. Chauvelin and Lauzet
make their final dispositions for the
capture of the bold Englishman and
his band Captain Raffet is in charge
‘of the rty. He expects the attack
“to_be made in a forest through which
the coach has to journey, and makes
his preparations accordingly.
CHAPTER V.—In Moisson there is
much sympathy for the Deseze family,
and condemnation for Lauzet. The ru-
mor spreads that Lauzet has arranged
,lo capture the Scarlet Pimpernel (for
whose arrest a reward of 10,000 livres
has been offered by the government),
and he (Lauzet) will pocket the re-
ward. Feeling that in some way they
have been outwitted by the official, and
that they should share in the reward,
a part of youths, inflamed with wine,
set out in pursuit of the coach. A drov=-
er from Aincourt is particularly loud
in his denunciation of Lauzet, and
drives the cart carrying the pursuers.
CHAPTER V1.—Captain Raffet pro-
ceeds slowly, he and the soldiers in
a high state of tension. Late in the
evening a halt is made. The approach
of a cart apparently filled with royster-
ing youths is something of a surprise.
Then to Raffet’s astonishment, a band
of men whom he recognizes as citizens
of Moisson, attack the soldiers, the
leader shouting that Raffet has cheat-
ed them. The soldiers overcome their
assailants, and Raffet, enraged at the
attack, orders them to be taken back
to the nearest city, prisoners.
CHAPTER VIL—Captain Raffet is
preparing to resume the journey to
Paris when he hears piteous cries and
appeals 1or help. The men from Mois-
son tell him they found Chauvelin and
Lauzet on the road, beat them, and
tied them up. It is their cries, Raf-
fet supposes, which he has heard.
Leaving three soldiers to guard the
Deseze family, the captain and the rest
of the troopers hasten to the scene of
the uproar. They find and release the
officials. Chauvelin alone sees in the
incident the work of the Scarlet Pim-
pernel, in fact, is confident he recog-
nized him among the attacking party.
CHAPTER VIII.—Chauvelin
the driver of the
brought the party from Moisson to be
brought to him. The lout, Charles-
Marie, appears, in a pitiable state of
fear, explaining that he was ordered,
by a “drover from Aincourt,” to leave
the coach and drive the cart back to
Mantes, the “drover’” promising to look
after the horses of the coach.
orders
CHAPTER IX.—Chauvelin realizes
now that he has been outwitted, that
the “drover” is the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Hastening to the coach he finds the
soldiers left as guards tied to trees.
The coach, of course, with the Desezes,
has disappeared. Chauvelin, Lauzet,
and the sorely discomfited Raffet, make
their way to the city of Epone, to find
themselves the laughing stock of the
countryside. The Scarlet Pimpernel
has scored again. A few days later
the coach, with the saddles and bridles
of Raffet’s troopers, which the attack-
ers had carried off, is found abandoned.
'Chauvelin realizes that pursuit is
hopeless, the fugitives having a clear
field for their escape to England.
CHAPTER X.—In London the prince
of Wales, one of the few who knows
the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel,
recounts the story of the rescue to a
party of his intimates, among them
Sir Percy Blakeney. The latter, how-
ever, affects to see little of the hero-
ic in the adventure, to the indignation
of the ladies, to whom, of course, the
Scarlet Pimpernel is a hero, and even
little Mademoiselle Deseze, pathetically
unconscious of the deep debt of grati-
tude she owes him, joins in the chorus
of feminine reproof, with her “Fie, Sir
Percy!”
cart which had"
{
CHAPTER V
Dissension
It was not everybody at Moisson who
sympathized with the Deseze family
when they were arrested. There were
all the envious, the dissatisfied, the
ambitious, as well as the rag-tag and
bobtail of the district, who had linked
their fortunes with the revolutionary
government and who looked for their
own advancement by loudly proclaim-
ing their loyalty to its decrees. For
such as these the Deseze family, with
their well-known integrity, their
wealth, and unostentatious piety, were
just a set of aristos that the prin-
ciples of the glorious revolution con-
demned as traitors to the state and to
the people.
And on market day Moisson was al-
ways full of people; they were noisy
and they were aggressive, and while
the sympathizers with the Deseze fam-
ily, after they had waved a last fare
well toward the fast-disappearing dili-
gence, went quietly about their busi-
ness or returned silently to their.
homes, the others thought this a good
opportunity for airing some of those
sentiments which would be reported in
influential quarters if any government
spy happened to be within earshot.
In spite of the persistent bad weath-
er men congregated in and about the
market place during the intervals of
business and lustily discussed the chief
=
There Was Much Talk of Citizen
Lauzet.
event of the day. There was much
talk of Citizen Lauzet, whom every
one had known as a young out-at-el-
bows ragamuffin in the employ of Hec-
tor Deseze, and who now had power of
life and death over the very man who
had been his master. E
Be it noted that Lauzet appeared to
have few friends amongst the crowd
of drovers and shepherds and the
farmers who came in with their prod-
uce from their outlying homesteads.
With advancement in life had come
arrogance in the man and a perpetual
desire to assert his authority over
those with whom he had fraternized
in the past. Those, however, who had
their homes in the immediate neigh-
borhood of Mantes dared not say much,
for Lauzet was feared almost as much
as he was detested; but the strangers
who had come into Moisson with their
cattle and their produce were free
enough with their tongue. Rumor had
gone far afield about this arrest of the
Deseze family, and many there were
who asserted that mysterious under-
currents were at work in this affair,
undercurrents that would draw Citizen .
Lauzet up on the crest of a tidal wave
to the giddy heights of incredible for-
tune.
Nay, more! There were many who
positively asserted that in some un-
explainable way the whole of the
Deseze affair was connected with the
capture of the English spy who was
known throughout France as the Scar-
let Pimpernel. This spy had been at
work in the district for some time;
every one knew that it was he who
had dragged those ci-devant traitors
and aristos, the Tournon-d’Arenays,
out of Citizen Lauzet’s clutches, and
Citizen Lauzet was now having his re-
venge. He would capture the Scarlet
Pimpernel, catch him in the act of try-
ing to effect the escape of the Deseze
family, and thus earn the reward of
ten thousand livres offered to any man
who would lay that enemy of France
by the heels.
Lucky Lauzet! Thus to have the
means of earning a sum of money
sufficient to keep a man and his fam
ily in affluence for the rest of their
lives. And besides the money there
would be the glory, too! Who could
a
MEYERSDALE COMMERCIAL, THURSDAY,
gduge the heights to which a man
might rise if he brought about the
capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel?
Well, Lauzet would do it! Lucky
Lauzet! He would certainly do it, as-
serted some; those sort of men always
have all the luck! There were even
those who asserted that the Scarlet,
Pimpernel was already captured and
that Lauzet had got him. Lucky,
lucky Lauget!
“You don’t suppose,” one man de-
clared, “that anything would be known
of the affair unless it was already ac-
complished? Lauzet is not one to talk
till after a thing is done. No! Nol
Believe me, my friends, Lauzet has
already got his ten thousand livres in
his pocket!”
He was a wizened little old man
from over Lanoy way, and now he
dolefully shook his head.
“And to think,” he went on, “that I
might have laid that English spy by
the heels myself, if I had had a bit of
luck like Lauzet.”
A shout of derision greeted this as-
tounding assertion.
“You, papa Sargon?’ onc of the
crowd ejaculated with a loud laugh,
“you, laying the English spy by the
heels? That is the best joke I've
heard for many a day. Will you tell
us how that came about?”
And papa Sargon told the tale how
he and his wife had a visit from a
squad of soldiers who told him that
they were after a band of English
spies who were known to be in that
district. The soldiers asked for a
night’s shelter, as they were weary
after a long day’s ride. Pd&pa Sargon
had made them comfortable in the big
barn behind the cottage; but the next
morning, when he went to see how
they had fared in the night, hie found
the barn empty and the soldiers gone.
And papa Sargon remained convinced
in his own mind that for the better
part of a night he had harbored the
most bitter enemies of his country,
and if he had only guessed who those
supposed soldiers were, he might have
informed the local commissary of po-
lice, and earned ten thousand livres
for himself.
Now, this story would not perhaps
have been altogether convincing to un-
prejudiced ears, but such as it was,
and with everything that had occurred
in Moisson these last few days, it
aroused considerable excitement. It
went to prove that the Scarlet Pim-
pernel was not nearly so mysterious or
so astute as rumor credited him to be,
since he almost fell a victim to papa
and mamma Sargon. It also went to
prove to the satisfaction of the com-
pany present that Citizen Lauzet had
been sharper than papa Sargon and,
having come across the Scarlet Pim-
pernel through some lucky accident,
he had laid hands on him and was
even now conveying him to Paris,
where a grateful government would
hand him over the promised reward
of ten thousand livres.
This notion, which gradually fil-
trated into the minds of the company,
did not tend to make Citizen Lauzet
any more popular; and when present-
ly most of that same company ad-
journed to Leon’s for refreshment,
there were some among the younger
men who wanted to know why they
should not have their share in those
ten thousand livres. The Scarlet Pim-
pernel, they argued with more enthu-
siasm than logic, had been captured in
their district. The Deseze family who
were in some way connected with the
capture were citizens of Moisson; why
should not they, citizens of Moisson,
too, finger a part of the reward?
It was all wild and illogical, and it
would have been impossible for any-
one to say definitely who was the
prime mover in the ensuing resolution
which, by the way, was carried unan-
imously, that a deputation should set
out forthwith for Mantes to interview
Citizen Lauzet and demand in the
name of justice, and for the benefit
of Moisson, some share in the money
prize granted by the government for
the capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Subsequently, both papa Sargon and a
drover from Aincourt were held to be
chiefly to blame, but as papa Sargon
properly remarked, neither he nor the
stranger from Aincourt stood to gain
anything by the wild goose chase, so
why should they have instigated it?
Be that as it may, soon after mid-
day meal, half a score of young stal-
warts climbed into the cart of the
drover from Aincourt, and the party,
full of enthusiasm and of Leon’s ex-
cellent red wine, set out for Mantes.
They had provided themselves with a
miscellaneous collection of arms; those
who possessed guns brought them
along, then they borrowed a couple
of pistols from Leon and two more
from old Mitau, who had been a sol-
dier in his day. Some of them had
sabers, others took sickles or seythes
which might be useful; one man had a
saw, another took a wood chopper.
All these things would be useful should
there be a fight over this affair, and
most of them hoped that there would
be a fight.
The first disappointment came on ar-
rival in Mantes. Here at the commis-
sariat they were informed that Citizen
Lauzet had been gone these last two
hours. He had ridden away in the
company of his friend who had come
from. Paris some two days previously.
The general idea prevalent at the com-
missariat was that the two men had
ridden away in the direction of Paris.
The second disappointment, a corrol-
lary of the first, was that the dili-
gence~with prisoners and escort had
started on its way less than half an
hour ago. It seemed in truth as if
the plot thickened. Lauzet and his
friend from Paris gone, the diligence
gone! No one paused for a moment
to reflect how this could possibly mean
acything in the nature of a plot, but
by this time spirits were inflamed.
Unaccountably inflamed. Every one
was so poor these days; money was
so terribly hard to earn; work was so
grinding, remuneration so small, that
now that the idea of the capture of
the English spy with its attendant re-
ward had seized hold of the imagina-
tion of these young hotheads, they
clung to it tenaciously, grimly, certain
that if they acted quickly and wisely,
and if no one else got im the way,
they would succeed in gaining the
golden prize. A competence! Just
think on it! And with nothing to do
for it but an exciting adventure. And
here was Lauzet interfering! Snatch-
ing the prize for himself! Lauzet, who
already drew a large salary from the
state for very little work.
All this had been talked over, sworn
over, discussed, commented at great
length all the way between Moisson
and Mantes, in the rickety cart driven
by the drover from Aincourt. He was
a wise man, that driver. His advice
was both sound and bold. “Why,” he
asked. pertinently, “should a man like
Citizen Lauzet get everything he
wants? [I say it is because he has a
friend over in Paris who comes along
and helps him. Because he has money
and influence. What? Was there ever
anything seen quite so unjust? Where
is the English spy, my friends? I ask
you. He is in this district. Our dis-
trict. And what I say is that what's
in our district belongs to us. Remem-
ber, there’s ten thousand livres walit-
ing for every man who takes a hand
in the capture of the Scarlet Pimper-
pel. Ten thousand livres! And Citi-
zen Lauzet, with that stranger from
Paris, is even at this hour riding away
with it in his pocket.”
He spoke a great many more equally
eloquent words, for he had the gift of
speech, had this drover from Aincourt.
A rough fellow, it is true, but one with
his heart in the right place, and born
in the district, too; anyone could tell
that by the contemptuous way with
which he spoke of any stranger born
outside this corner of Seine et Oise.
He was listened to with great atten-
tion, was the driver. And his words
presently carried all the more weight
because something very strange came
to light. It appeared that the dili-
gence from Moisson with prisoners and
escort had made a halt of several
hours in Mantes. The party only made
a fresh start in the late afternoon.
That was strange enough, in all con-
science! What did it, mean but that
Lauzet was courting the darkness for
his schemes? But there was some-
thing more mysterious still. While the
diligence stood before the posting inn
ready to start, horses pawing and
champing, the driver on his box, whip
in hand, the four troopers who were
on guard to right and left of the
vehicle would not allow anyone to
come within measurable distance of
it. Be it noted that all the blinds of
the coach were drawn so that it was
impossible to get a peep at the in-
side. But two young men, strangers
to the neighborhood, who had since
come forward, eager to tell their story,
more venturesome than others, had
crept under the horSes’ bellies and
tried to peer into the interior of the
coach. They were almost immediately
driven away with blows and curses
by the troopers, but not before they
had vaguely perceived that there were
more than just the prisoners inside
the diligence. :
The prisoners were all huddled up
in the farthest corner of the vehicle,
but there were others. The young
men who had had a peep, despite the
blows from the troopers, had seen
three or four men at least. «They
might have been ordinary travelers
who had picked up the diligence at
Mantes. But in that case, why all
this secrecy? Why the drawn blinds,
the start in the late afternoon so that
the shades of evening would actually
be drawing in when the diligence and
its escort plowed its way through the
muddy road of the forest between
Mezieres and Epone? Why a feeble
escort of only four men when of late
as many as eight or ten picked troop-
ers of the national guard had ridden
beside the diligence?
Indeed, the drover from Aincourt
was right. Indubitably right. Citizen
Lauzet and his friend from Paris had
entered into a plot, a dastardly, cow-
ardly plot, to cheat the citizens of
Moisson of their just share in the cap-
ture of the Scarlet Pimpernel. There
was no doubt that the Scarlet Pim-
pernel was already captured, and that
Lauzet was having him conveyed in
secret to Paris. The escort might ap-
pear feeble, but there were men in-
side the diligence who held the Eng-
lish spy, bound hand and foot, be-
tween them with a cocked pistol at his
head. Why! The two young stran-
gers who had succeeded in getting a
peep at the inside of the diligence
quite thought, from the description
every one had of him, that one of the
men whom they glimpsed was in very
truth the Scarlet Pimpernel.
“He was so tall,” they said, “so tall
that he had to sit almost bent double,
otherwise his head would have knocked
against the roof of the coach!” They
were almost prepared to swear also
that this tall man’s hands’ were tied
together with ropes.
After that, as the driver from Ain-
court very properly said, any man
would be a fool who doubted Lauzet’s
treachery and cupidity. It was re-
solved to proceed immediately in his
wake, to seize him wherever he might
be, him and any man who had helped
him in his treachery. Aye, if he had
an army to protect him, he would find
that the men of Moisson and Mantes
were not to be flouted and cheated
with impunity. The drover from Ain-
court was bribed to take the party in
his cart as far as Mezieres. He de-
murred a little at first; seemed to turn
crusty and was impervious to threats.
Eventually he was offered, one hun-
dred livres out of every man’s share
if the English spy was captured: and
one livre if he was not.
MAY 9, 1929
“Eh bien!” he sald at last In token
of consent, and they all scrambled
back into the cart.
CHAPTER VI
Surprise
Captain Raffet had given the order
to dismount, and the troopers sat by
the roadside under the trees, making
a prétense to rest. Each man, how-
ever, had his saber ready to his hand,
and each had seen to the priming of
his pistol, while the captain ostensibly
busied himself with examining the
fetlock of the mare who had gone
lame. The wind had gone down and
the torrential rain had ceased, but
there was a thin mist-like drizzle that
soaked through the men’s clothing and
chilled them to the bone. The tension
The Tension Had Become Acute.
had become acute. With nerves on
edge the men, those who were in the
open as well as those who were cooped
up inside the diligence, could do noth-
ing but wait while the time dragged
on and the shades of evening drew in
around them.
The silence in the woods was full of
sounds; of the cracking of twigs, the
fall of rain-laden leaves, the scrunch-
ing of earth under tiny, furtive feet
scurrying away through the under-
growth. The great, awkward diligence
loomed out of the mist like some
gigantic, spectral erection, peopled by
forms that breathed and lived and
hardly emitted a sound. Only very oc-
casionally from the interior there
came the painful moan, quickly sup-
pressed, from the poor invalids
parched throat.
The soldiers waited with eyes and
ears strained, their nerves atingle,
their breathing hard and stertorous.
And there fell upon their straining
ears the sound of human life coming
from the direction of Mezieres. This
time it was the sound of cartwheels
creaking through the mud, and of ill-
adjusted harness jingling with the
movement of wearily plodding horses.
There was also from time to time the
sound of distant voices, a harsh call
or uproarious laugh suddenly stilled
as if in response to a peremptory
warning. Nothing in truth to sug-
gest the furtive methods of the Eng-
lish adventurers; it seemed more like
a party of farmers coming home from
market.
The troopers were on the alert, of
course, but not quite so keenly per-
haps as they were before their disap-
pointment over citizen Plante’s pas-
sage across the scene. But a minute
or two later a quick word from their
captain brought them sharply up to
attention. The cart had obviously
come to a halt, but a lusty shout now
rang through the stillness of the night,
and there was a general sound of
scampering and of running, mingled
with calls of excitement and encour-
agement. A few minutes of tense ex-
pectation, then suddenly round the
bend a band of ten or a dozen men
came into view, armed with wmiscel-
laneous weapons. At sight of the dili-
gence they gave a wild shout of tri-
umph, brandished their weapons and
rushed to the attack. ;
“Attention, citizen soldiers!” Raffet
commanded hastily. “Do not shoot un-
less you are obliged. But if you must,
shoot low. We must have some of
those English spies alive if we can.”
Hardly were the words out of his
mouth than, with a renewed shout of
triumph, the band of young ruffians
threw themselves like a pack of en-
raged puppies on the soldiers, while
others made straight for the dili-
gence. But before they had got within
twenty meters of it the captain gave
the quick word of command that
brought the men of the gendarmerie
. out of the coach, pistols in hand, ready
for the fight.
The attacking party, however, held
no laggards either. Egged on by the
drover from Aincourt and still shout-
ing wildly, they rushed on the men of
the gendarmerie as they scrambled
out of the coach. Numbers being
about equai on either side, the men
coming out one by one were at a great
disadvantage. Almost as soon as they
had set foot to the ground they were
fallen on with fist or saber, and soon
the confusion was complete.
“What the devil's game is this?”
Raffet shouted hoarsely, for in an in-
stant he had found himself at grips,
not with the mysterious Scarlet Pim-
pernel, but with Gaspard, the son of
the butcher of Moisson, whom he had
known ever since they had been raga-
muffins together. And Gaspard was as
strong as some of the bullocks his
father was wont to kill. Before Raffet
Page Seven
could recover from the surprise of this
wholly unexpected turn of events Gas-
pard had brought his heavy fist crash-
ing down on his whilom friend's skull.
“It means,” Gaspard shouted, mad
with fury, “that thou’rt a traitor and
that I'll teach thee to help cheat thy
friends !”
Nor could Raffet argue after that.
He had need of all his faculties to de-
fend himseif against this young ox.
He had drawn his pistol, true, but Gas-
pard’s ironlike hand had closed around
his wrist and the fight soon degener-
ated into fisticuffs. The troopers
fared no better, either. Though they
had been prepared for an attack, they
were not prepared for this furious on-
slaught made upon them by their
friends. Name of a dog! What did it
all mean? For they were all friends,
these madmen, every one of them;
young men from Moisson and Lanoy
and Mantes. There was Francois, the
mercer of the Rue Grande, and Jacques,
whose father kept the tavern at the
sign of the Black Swan, and Paul,
whose mother was the best washer-
woman in Mantes. And words flew
round to the accompaniment of thump-
ing blows.
“Jacques, art thou mad or drunk?”
“Achille! Thy father will beat thee
for this escapade!”
“Name of a name, but you'll all get
something for this night's work.”
And all the while blows were rain-
ing fast and furious. There was no
lust to kill, only wild enthusiasm for
a fight, a desire to be avenged on
friends who had aided that rascal Lau-
zet to cheat the men of the district
out of the golden prize.
“Give up the English spies or I'll
squeeze the breath out of thy throat!”
This from Gaspard’s the butcher’s son,
who-had felled his friend Raffet to the
ground and rolled over and over in the
mud with him, the two men snarling
at one another and biting and scratch-
ing like a couple of angry dogs.
Had they all gone mad, these men
of Moisson? The issue of the strug-
gle might have remained longer in the
balance had not Raffet just then freed
his right hand from the iron grip of
Gaspard and discharged his pistol into
his whilom comrade’s leg. Gaspard
rolled over onto his back with a groan
and a curse.
“Traitor! Thou has murdered me!”
he cried, while the blood flowed freely
out of his thigh.
But the one pistol shot had the
effect of sobering the combatants. The
aggressors had pistols, too, and sabers,
but in their excitement had forgotten
how to use them. The sudden report,
however, brought the soldiers to a
sense of discipline; wakened them, as
it were; from their surprise, and in
a moment gave them a decided ad-
vantage over the undisciplined attack-
ing party. This wild fisticuffs could
not go on. It was unworthy of the
soldiers of the republic. They were
being attacked by a band of irre-
sponsible young jackanapes, whom the
devil himself must for the nonce have
deprived of reason, but it remained
for the picked men of the rural
gendarmerie to teach them that such
madness could not remain unpunished,
and, friend or foe, he who attacks a
soldier of the republic must suffer
for his wantonness. Far be it from
the chronicler of these events to pre-
tend that all these thoughts did surge
clearly in the heads of the troopers.
What is a fact is that from the mo-
ment their captain discharged a pistol
into Gaspard’s thigh they became
masters of the situation. The fight
between soldiers and civilians assumed
its just proportions; there were a few
pistol shots, some saber thrusts, a
good deal of groaning and cursing,
while more than one stalwart besides
Gaspard rolled over in the mud.
The fight had lasted less than ten
minutes. When the first rush on the
diligence was made the twilight was
already fading into dusk. Now, when
the last shot had been fired and the
last of the hotheads had cried for
mercy, dusk was slowly yielding to
the darkness of the night. Raffet
called the soldiers to attention. They
were still panting with excitement,
some of them were dizzy from blows
dealt freely on their skulls; one or
two showed a bunged eye or a bleed-
ing lip, but none of them was serious-
ly hurt. The hotheads from Moisson
and Mantes had not fared quite so
well. Some of them had received a
charge of shot in leg, arm or shoulder
and were lying groaning or half un-
conscious on the ground; those who
had escaped with minor hurts were
on their knees, held down by the
heavy hand of a trooper. They did
not in truth present an edifying spec-
tacle, with their faces streaming with
blood and perspiration, their clothes
torn, their shirtsleeves hanging in rags,
their hair wet and lank banging be-
fore their eyes. Raffet ordered them
to be mustered up, his sharp glance
ran over them as they stood or
crouched together in a line.
“TI ought to have the lot of you sum-
marily shot,” Raffet said sternly to
them after he had inspected his men
and seen that victory had not cost
them dear. “Yes, shot!” he reiterated,
“for interfering with these soldiers of
the republic in the exercise of their
duty; and I will do it, too,” he went
on after a moment’s pause, “unless
you tell me now the meaning of this
abominable escapade.”
“You know it well, Citizen Raffet!”
Paul, the washerwoman’s son, said,
still breathless with excitement and
with a savage oath, “when you joined
hands with that traitor Lauzet to cheat
us all of what was our due.”
“Joined hands with Lauzet? What
the devil do you mean?” Raffet
queried, frowning. “In what did I
join hands with Lauzet?”
“In capturing the English spy and
getting the reward for yourselves when
it rightly belonged to us.”
“The reward,” Raffet retorted dryly,
“will be for whosoever may be lucky
to get the English spy. For the mo-
ment I imagine that if he meant to
attack us tonight yqur folly has scared
him. The noise you made would keep
any brigand out of the way.”
“No use lying to us, Raffet,” one of
the others retorted, somewhat inco-
herently. It was Francois who spoke
this time, the mercer from the Rue
Grande, and he had always been
always noted for his eloquence. “You
raised your hands against us citizens
of the republic, who came here to
avenge an unpardonable wrong. And
let me tell you that ’tis you who will
suffer for this night's work—"
“Ah, ca!” Raffet broke in savagely,
for his temper was still up. “How
long are you going to talk in riddles?
In truth, it’s the devil that has de-
prived you of your senses. What’s
all this talk about the English spy?
Who told you we were after him?
And why should you hinder us from
doing our duty?”
“We know,” Francois retorted, striv-
ing to appear calm and full of dignity,
“that not only were you after the Eng-
lish spy, but we know you captured
him in our district and you have got
him in the diligence yonder and are
conveying him to Paris, where you
and your friends will share ten thou-
sand livres, which by rights should
have bclcozed to us men of the dis-
trict where the spies were captured.”
“What gibberish is this? I tell you
not only have we not got the English
spy, but owing to your senseless folly
we are not likely to get him now.”
“] say that the “@nglisb spy is in
your diligence!” Francois exclaimed
and pointed dramatically at the old
vehicle, which stood like a huge, solid
mass, heavier and darker than the
surrounding gloom. “Some of us have
seen him, I tell you!” And his com-
ponions, even those who were in the
sorriest plight, nodded in assent.
Pondering a moment over the future
of his prisoners, Raffet had a sudden
inspiration.
“Who drove the cart that brought
you all hither?” he demanded.
“A man from Lannoy” Paul,
washerwoman’s son, replied.
“Then he shall take you back to
Mantes the way you came.”
“You would not dare!” One of the
others protested.
Raffet, however, had already turned
to his corporal of gendarmerie.
“Citizen Corporal,” he said, “take
these rascals as far as the cart which
brought them hither. It must have
come to a halt somewhere near the
bottom of the hill. Let two of your.
men go with them to Mantes and
there hand them over to the deputy
commissary. Order the owner of the
cart to drive them on pain of severe
punishment if he refuses. Take one
of the lanthorns with you. It will be
needed, as the road will be pitch dark
before they are well on their way.
And stay! You have some stout cord
inside the diligence. We were going
to use it on the English spy. Now it
will serve to bind these rogues to-
gether two by two, lest they try some
more of their tricks on you. Those
who are hurt can lie in the bottom of
the cart.” }
“Citizen Raffet!” Francois the mer-
cer raised his voice in final impotent
protest. “You will answer to the state
for this outrage on her citizens.”
But Raffet was no longer in a mind
to listen. The corporal had sent one
of the men to find the length of rope
which was inside the diligence and
was to have served for binding up the
English spies and now it would be
used on a lot of jackanapes on their
homeward journey to Mantes. Pro-
tests and. curses were indeed in vain,
and the soldiers whose tempers had
not yet cooled down were none too
gentle with the rope.
(CONTINUED NEXT WEEK)
Moist Loamy Soil Best
for Culture of Kale
Kale being a heavy feeder requires
rich soil with plenty of manure and
fertilizer to make a good crop. A
moist loamy soil is best. The land
should be plowed several days before
Sowing to let it settle, then just be-
fore sowing give it a good harrowing
to kill all weeds and grass. Of fer-
tilizer, if broadcast, about 1,500
pounds will be used or in the drills
about 800 pounds. A good fertilizer
to use is one containing 5 per cent
nitrogen, 6 to 8 per cent phosphoric
acid and 5 per cent potash. A top
dressing of 150 to 200 pounds of nitrate
of soda will greatly help the plants.
The Scotch and Serbian are the
most popular varieties of kale. The
Scotch is a bright green kale and very
popular for shipping, owing to its fine
appearance, and being hard and stiff
carries perfectly when packed. The
plants are very spreading and dwarf,
rarely growing over 18 inches high.
The plants will remain over winter
where the temperature does not go
below zero. The Siberian leaves are
very large and plain in the center, but
heavily curled on the edge. It is
hardy and grows rapidly and is very
slow running to seed in the spring,
The Siberian is more tender for home
use or local market, while the Scotch
is better to ship.
the
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3 Agricultural Notes 2
©0-0-000000000000000000000000
Acres not needed for field crops.
fruit, garden, or pasture should be
growing that other essential farm
product—wood.
- * ®
These are the nights for reading.
And don’t think it is necessary to
read only technical stuff to improve
your work; have a good time with a
good novel.