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“I suspect the Committee will want to replace Citoyen Simon,” the captain said, looking up at the tower. “He hasn’t done what he was hired to do.”
Tristan’s throat was still tight, but he managed to speak. “And what is that?” he rasped.
“Reform the boy. Turn him into a patriot.”
“It’s after curfew,” Tristan said, his stomach churning. He would be sick if he stayed here much longer. “I must be off.”
The captain motioned him to follow, and Tristan did so, quite blindly. He was relieved when he finally reached the drive where the coach still waited. He would have jumped in and been away immediately if the captain hadn’t stepped in front of him. “Citoyen, I trust you will give a satisfactory report to the Committee and Citoyen Robespierre. You have seen all you came to see.”
Tristan tried to move around the captain, but the man shifted to block his path. Finally, Tristan was forced to answer. “Yes. I will report back to Citoyen Robespierre that the prisoner is secure.”
“And in good health,” the captain added.
Tristan stared at the man. Had he seen the same child Tristan had? How could any sane man called that wreck of a human healthy? Tristan did not speak for a long moment. He could protest that the child was anything but in good health, but it would not change anything. He could go to Robespierre and report the boy’s mistreatment. That would not change anything either.
“Yes, I will report the boy seems in good health.”
The captain moved out of Tristan’s way, and he climbed into the carriage. He did not look back as his conveyance sped away, taking him home and far away from the Temple and the horrors he had seen.
Damn Alexandra Martin. Damn the Scarlet Pimpernel. They’d known if he saw this he would not be able to walk away. He must do something. He must help the child.
Tristan only knew one way to help—to rescue the child. But such an action would make him a traitor to all he believed in. Was the life of one child more important than the lives of thousands, the liberty and equality of hundreds of thousands?
Alexandra Martin would have said yes.
Tristan feared he agreed with her.
Ten
She gained access toChevalier’s rooms easily. The unlatched window meant she had not even had to pick the lock. That was a stroke of luck, as she was no good at picking locks.
She’d spent the first half hour wandering the two rooms, trying to get more of a sense of the man without prying into his personal effects. He did not have many intimate objects about. She wondered where he kept letters and mementos of his family—unless those had been destroyed in the fire?
His bedchamber was the smaller of the two rooms and contained a trunk, which she supposed held his clothing, and a decent sized bed with several mattresses piled on top of each other and two or three blankets of good quality. A small stove sat in one corner, and it probably kept the room warm at night.
It was not lit at present, so Alex preferred to remain in the main chamber, where a fire burned low in the hearth. This room contained a table, several chairs, and a desk. The desk had drawn her attention repeatedly. She would have loved to dig through its numerous compartments and find out what she could about the republic and its plans.
