-watch. It was a problem which need not have concerned
her. Many taxis whizzed by, but not one was disengaged.

When they mounted the steeper part of the incline the unhappy engine so
laboured that each revolution of the wheels threatened to be the last.
Still they moved onward with a sort of grim persistence, and it
occurred to Esther that if she did not go altogether mad in the
interval there might just possibly be a glimmer of hope. They had
passed many familiar landmarks; in a sort of fashion they were getting
there. She sat on the edge of the lumpy seat, alternately praying and
gibbering, her hands clenched, her head throbbing with the sharp pain
born of fear.

"Oh, God," she murmured for the twentieth time, "don't let it happen,
make him wait till I get there! Oh, God----"

The taxi slowed down with an ominous finality. Again the driver
climbed down, fiddled about for several seconds, then with immense
deliberation approached and opened the door. "What's the matter?
Can't you get on? _Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?_" she cried, ready to shake
him.

He shrugged his shoulders and blew his red nose on a huge filthy
handkerchief. Then with an air of great philosophy he replied:

"_Ca marche plus._"

"_Comment?_" she screamed at him, although she had heard only too well.

"_Plus d'essence,_" he explained briefly, spitting into a puddle.
"_C'est fini._"

There it was concisely; she could take it or leave it. No more petrol,
and still at least a mile away from the Villa Firenze. As well write
"finis" to her whole desperate attempt. How she had got this far
without fainting was almost a miracle; if she tried to walk the
remaining distance she was quite certain to fall by the wayside. At
the moment the one thing that would have brought her some slight relief
would have been to slay this old man--and she had no weapon.

Slowly she got out of the mouldy cab and began automatically to
unfasten the strap of her watch. At least she must pay her debts....

"_Plus dessence... C'est fini...._"

The words rang in her brain like a knell.

CHAPTER XXXI

"Chalmers, was that Mr. Roger who came in? I thought I heard him."

"Yes, miss, he's in his room, but I fancy he's on his way to you. He
asked where you were."

Chalmers came a step farther into the room, rubbing his grey chin in an
undecided fashion. There was plainly something on his mind.

"I wish, miss, we could manage to keep Mr. Roger from going