The Reaping by Rafael Sabatini

Angèle's first feeling of thankful amazement at the escape which Seyrac had through his very treachery contrived for Vidal, passed quickly into one of utter despondency when she came to consider the position at closer quarters. She saw clearly that after all here was no escape but merely a respite. Seyrac had plunged headlong to his doom. His own baseness had enmeshed him with a justice truly poetic. But it was not to be supposed that the mistake which had occurred would long continue undiscovered. To-morrow, no doubt, he would be haled before the Revolutionary Tribunal and it would be revealed that he was not Vidal. They would not be long in discovering his true identity and in despatching him to the National Razor, and meanwhile the agents of the Committee of Public Safety would have sought out the real Vidal so that he might feel the weight of Saint-Just's vengeance and be silenced.

In answer to a question from the driver as to what he was to do now, she bade him drive her back to the house she had just quitted. There she alighted, and with trembling hands unlocked the door. She bade the driver wait, and went in and upstairs to sit down in the twilight and feverishly await Vidal's return.