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Updated: June 22, 2025
Devar soon appeared. His mother had managed to inform him that the substituted driver was responsible for the complete collapse of Marigny's project, and he was puffing with annoyance, though well aware that he must not display it. "Well," said he, strutting up to Medenham and blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke from his thick lips, "well, what is it, my man?"
They, however, soon recovered from their surprise, and drove the enemy out with loss. Westermann's infantry took no part in the action. Kleber was occupied in closing every route by which the Vendeans could leave Dol; but Westermann, who had held no communication with him, and knew nothing of his plans, marched with Marigny's division, with six thousand men, to attack the town.
Nothing more illogical, more ill-advised, more thoroughly unsuited to achieve its object than the proposed duel could well be mooted, yet the sheer malignity of Marigny's ruffianly device to attain his ends had impelled him to that final madness. Notions of right and wrong were topsy-turvy in his brain.
Devar's change of front had caused him some grim amusement, but the discovery of Marigny's artifice roused his wrath again. It was high time that Cynthia should be enlightened, partly at least, as to the true nature of the "accident" that had befallen her; he had already solved the riddle of Smith's disappearance. "The road to Bristol lies behind you, Miss Vanrenen," he said.
At the utmost, the French car was given some twelve or thirteen minutes' start, which meant seven or eight miles to a high-powered automobile urged forward with the determination Medenham himself was displaying. Marigny's chauffeur, therefore, must have dashed through that Titanic cleft in the limestone at a speed utterly incompatible with his employer's excuse of sightseeing.
A glance into the vestibule of the hotel revealed Cynthia, in motor coat and veil, giving some instructions, probably with regard to letters, to a deferential hall-porter. Walking rapidly round the front of the car, he caught Marigny's shoulder with his left hand.
Indeed, Marigny's quiet acceptance of the position was quite as difficult to understand as her own failure to grasp the significance of all that happened since noon on Wednesday. This very day, before breakfast, he had come to her room with the cheering news that information to hand from London would certainly procure the dismissal of "Fitzroy" forthwith.
In each case, a moment's delay to secure his own safety meant the sacrifice of a friend, but safety won at such a price would have galled him worse than the spinning of a coin with death. Wholly apart from considerations that he was strangely unwilling to acknowledge, even to his own heart, he now resented Marigny's cold-blooded pursuit of an unsuspecting girl mainly because of its unfairness.
He noted that the table was gay with cut flowers, and a neat waitress had evidently been detailed by the management to look after these distinguished guests; Marigny's stage setting for his first decisive move was undoubtedly well contrived. It was delightfully pastoral a charming bit of rural England and, as such, eminently calculated to impress an American visitor.
Cynthia poured out a cup of tea, heaped a plate with cakes and bread and butter, and gave some instructions to the waitress. Medenham knew what that meant. He hurried back by the way he had come, and found that Marigny's chauffeur had lifted the bonnet off the Mercury.
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