"The cart contained the CI-DEVANT Comtesse de Tourney and her two
children, all of them traitors and condemned to death." "And their
driver?" muttered Bibot, as a superstitious shudder ran down his spine.

"SACRE TONNERRE," said the captain, "but it is feared that it was that
accursed Englishman himself--the Scarlet Pimpernel."




CHAPTER II DOVER: "THE FISHERMAN'S REST"



In the kitchen Sally was extremely busy--saucepans and frying-pans were
standing in rows on the gigantic hearth, the huge stock-pot stood in
a corner, and the jack turned with slow deliberation, and presented
alternately to the glow every side of a noble sirloin of beef. The two
little kitchen-maids bustled around, eager to help, hot and panting,
with cotton sleeves well tucked up above the dimpled elbows, and
giggling over some private jokes of their own, whenever Miss Sally's
back was turned for a moment. And old Jemima, stolid in temper and
solid in bulk, kept up a long and subdued grumble, while she stirred the
stock-pot methodically over the fire.

"What ho! Sally!" came in cheerful if none too melodious accents from
the coffee-room close by.

"Lud bless my soul!" exclaimed Sally, with a good-humoured laugh, "what
be they all wanting now, I wonder!"