Trapped by Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

skylight, at the top of the high wall. A glimmer of sunlight showed. “Judging by the sun’s position, I’m guessing it’s close to mid-afternoon. At four o’clock, they begin the cull for Madame Guillotine’s evening meal. There is always a fracas, a lot of noise and confusion as they herd people into the tumbrels. We will take advantage of the rampage to slip away. Just make damned sure you don’t get forced into a cart. There’ll be no saving you then.”
    â€œForgive me for being obtuse, but how the hell do we get out of this cell?”
    â€œThat’s where you come in. I can’t do it alone, which is why I’m still here,” he said with a sardonic smile. “You will stand at the bars and create mayhem, scream, rattle the bars, hurl every insult and provocation you can think of. The guardroom is just at the end of the corridor; they’ll hear you soon enough. And they will certainly react. If you provoke them sufficiently, they’ll open the gate to drag you out. At which point, I will step in.”
    â€œWhat if there’s more than one of them?” Hero asked somewhat skeptically. It seemed to her she would be taking all the risk in this scenario.
    â€œOh, there will be,” he stated firmly. “But no more than two or three, and I can handle that number easily.”
    â€œWhat with?” she exclaimed.
    â€œI happened upon a lucky find in my explorations.” He reached into the corner behind him and produced aheavy wooden stave. “This was under the straw in the corner . . . quite amazing how neglectful those illiterate ruffians are. They’re drunk and senseless on wine and brandy when they’re not drunk on blood and power.” His voice was laced with acid loathing. “And if this is not enough, then . . .” He bent down to reach into his boot, withdrawing a wickedly sharp blade.
    Hero took in the small arsenal. “I have this.” She reached up her sleeve and pulled out a very small knife. “It’s quite sharp, although I’ve never used it as a weapon, more as a useful tool, good for cutting bandages and things like that.”
    He nodded. “Indeed. But I’m sure you could inflict some modicum of damage if necessary.”
    â€œI daresay I could,” she responded with a degree of enthusiasm that in other circumstances would have made her companion smile. “So what happens after they get here?”
    â€œYou have to make them open the gate,” he repeated. “Leave the rest to me, and as soon as you see your way clear, run as if all the devils in hell are after you. The tumult around the tumbrels in the yard should be in full swing, and the gates will be standing open. Get through them and into the street, and then lose yourself in the crowd.”
    â€œWill you be behind me?” Hero felt a sudden twitch of alarm that this oddly reassuring stranger might disappear.
    â€œIf I can. But don’t think about me, think only about yourself. Get clear, and if you don’t see me, make your way to Rue St. André des Arts. Number seven. Tell them Guillaume sent you.”
    She nodded slowly. She knew the street, on the left bank of the Seine quite close to the Conciergerie. It would be helpful to have a safe haven for her own mission. Since she’d arrived in Paris two days earlier, she’d been finding shelter in insalubrious hostelries, where the presence of a ruffian lad with a few sous for a bed would not draw attention. Of course, given that she knew nothing about her cell mate, this safe haven could well be a den of thieves, but in present circumstances, that seemed immaterial. It wouldn’t be a prison cell, and she had nothing on her worth stealing anyway.
    She approached the gate and took hold of the bars with both hands. “So when do I start?”
    Guillaume moved into the shadows behind her, holding the stave loosely in one