He himself would have to go very cautiously to work, since apparently Heron would not allow him to purchase immunity for himself in that one matter, and whilst he was laying his plans with necessary deliberation so as to ensure his own safety, that accursed Scarlet Pimpernel would mayhap snatch the golden prize from the Temple prison right under his very nose.
When he thought of that the Gascon Royalist felt just as vindictive as did the chief agent of the Committee of General Security.
While these thoughts were coursing through de Batz' head, Heron had been indulging in a volley of vituperation.
"If that little vermin escapes," he said, "my life will not be worth an hour's purchase.

In twenty-four hours I am a dead man, thrown to the guillotine like those dogs of aristocrats! You say I am a night-bird, citizen.

I tell you that I do not sleep night or day thinking of that brat and the means to keep him safely under my hand.

I have never trusted those Simons--" "Not trusted them!" exclaimed de Batz; "surely you could not find anywhere more inhuman monsters!" "Inhuman monsters ?" snarled Heron.

"Bah! they don't do their business thoroughly; we want the tyrant's spawn to become a true Republican and a patriot--aye! to make of him such a one that even if you and your cursed confederates got him by some hellish chance, he would be no use to you as a king, a tyrant to set above the people, to set up in your Versailles, your Louvre, to eat off golden plates and wear satin clothes.