II
Under the hood of the barouche Yvonne, wearied but immeasurably happy, was doing her best to answer all her dear milor’s impassioned questions and to give him a fairly clear account of that terrible chase and flight through the streets of the Isle Feydeau.
“Ah, milor, how can I tell you what I felt when I realised that I was being carried along in the arms of the valiant Scarlet Pimpernel? A word from him and I understood. After that I tried to be both resourceful and brave. When the chase after us was at its hottest we slipped into a ruined and deserted house. In a room at the back there were several bundles of what looked like old clothes. ‘This is my storehouse,’ milor said to me; ‘now that we have reached it we can just make long noses at the whole pack of bloodhounds.’ He made me slip into some boy’s clothes which he gave me, and whilst I donned these he disappeared. When he returned I truly did not recognise him. He looked horrible, and his voice … ! After a moment or two he laughed, and then I knew him. He explained to me the role which I was to play, and I did my best to obey him in everything. But oh! I hardly lived while we once more emerged into the open street and then turned into the great Place which was full—oh full!—of people. I felt that at every moment we might be suspected. Figure to yourself, my dear milor …”
What Yvonne Dewhurst was about to say next will never be recorded. My lord Tony had closed her lips with a kiss.