Her gaiety dropped from her like a mantle. In a moment she was serious, puzzled. A frown appeared between her brows. Her dark eyes flashed, rapidly inquiring, suspicious, fearful, upon Robespierre. "To refuse my help?" she asked slowly. "My help in unmasking a spy? I do not understand." She looked from one man to the other. Chauvelin was the only one who would not meet her gaze. No, not the only one. Tallien, too, appeared absorbed in contemplating his finger nails. "Citizen Tallien," she queried harshly. "What does this mean?" "It means just what I said," Robespierre intervened coldly. "That abominable English spy has fooled us all. You said yourself that 'tis a woman's wit that will bring that elusive adventurer to his knees one day. Why not yours?" Theresia gave no immediate reply. She was meditating. Here, then, was this other means to her hand, whereby she was to propitiate the man-eating tiger, turn his snarl into a purr, obtain immunity for herself and her future lord. But what a prospect! "I fear me, citizen Robespierre," she said after awhile, "that you overestimate the keenness of my wits." "Impossible!" he retorted drily. And St. Just, ever the echo of his friend's unspoken words, added with a great show of gallantry: "The citoyenne Cabarrus, even from her prison in Bordeaux, succeeded in snaring our friend Tallien, and making him the slave of her beauty." "Then why not the Scarlet Pimpernel?" was Couthon's simple conclusion. "The Scarlet Pimpernel!" Theresia exclaimed with a shrug of her handsome shoulders. "The Scarlet Pimpernel, forsooth! Why, meseems that no one knows who he is! Just now you all affirmed that he was a coalheaver named Rateau. I cannot make love to a coalheaver, can I?" "Citizen Chauvelin knows who the Scarlet Pimpernel is," Couthon went on deliberately. "He will put you on the right track. All that we want is that he should be at your feet. It is so easy for the citoyenne Cabarrus to accomplish that." "But if you know who he is," she urged, "why do you need my help?"