st," said Hanaud with a laugh.

"Then I will come too," said Celia, and she opened the door and set a
foot upon the step.

"You will not, mademoiselle," said Hanaud, with a laugh. "Will you take
your foot back into that car? That is better. Now you will sit with
your friend, M. Ricardo, whom, by the way, I have not yet introduced to
you. He is a very good friend of yours, mademoiselle, and will in the
future be a still better one."

Ricardo felt his conscience rather heavy within him, for he had come
out to Geneva with the fixed intention of arresting her as a most
dangerous criminal. Even now he could not understand how she could be
innocent of a share in Mme. Dauvray's murder. But Hanaud evidently
thought she was. And since Hanaud thought so, why, it was better to say
nothing if one was sensitive to gibes. So Ricardo sat and talked with
her while Hanaud ran back into the restaurant. It mattered very little,
however, what he said, for Celia's eyes were fixed upon the doorway
through which Hanaud had disappeared. And when he came back she was
quick to turn the handle of the door.

"Now, mademoiselle, we will wrap you up in M. Ricardo's spare
motor-coat and cover your knees with a rug and put you between us, and
then you can go to sleep."

The car sped through the streets of Geneva. Celia Harland, with a
little sigh of relief, nestled down between the two men.

"If I knew you better," she said to Hanaud, "I should tell you--what,
of course, I do not tell you now--that I feel as if I had a big
Newfoundland dog with me."

"Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud, and his voice told her that he was moved,
"that is a very pretty thing which you have said to me."

The lights of the city fell away behind them. Now only a glow in the
sky spoke of Geneva; now even that was gone and with a smooth
continuous purr the car raced through the cool darkness. The great head
lamps threw a bright circle of light before them and the road slipped
away beneath the wheels like a running tide. Celia fell asleep. Even
when the car stopped at the Pont de La Caille she did not waken. The
door was opened, a search for contraband was made, the book was signed,
still she did not wake. The car sped on.

"You see, coming into France is a different affair," said Hanaud.

"Yes," replied Ricardo.

"Still, I will own it, you caught me napping yesterday.

"I did?" exclaimed Ricardo joyfully.

"You did," returned Hanaud. "I had never heard of the Pont de