and to set her free. A chill struck through her. But the
next moment he did raise his hand and the blood flowed again, at her
heart. Of course, she was in the darkness. He had not seen her plight.
Even now he was only beginning to be aware of it. For his hand touched
the bandage over her mouth--tentatively. He felt for the knot under the
broad brim of her hat at the back of her head. He found it. In a moment
she would be free. She kept her head quite still, and then--why was he
so long? she asked herself. Oh, it was not possible! But her heart
seemed to stop, and she knew that it was not only possible--it was
true: he was tightening the scarf, not loosening it. The folds bound
her lips more surely. She felt the ends drawn close at the back of her
head. In a frenzy she tried to shake her head free. But he held her
face firmly and finished his work. He was wearing gloves, she noticed
with horror, just as thieves do. Then his hands slid down her trembling
arms and tested the cord about her wrists. There was something horribly
deliberate about his movements. Celia, even at that moment, even with
him, had the sensation which had possessed her in the salon. It was the
personal equation on which she was used to rely. But neither Adele nor
this--this STRANGER was considering her as even a human being. She was
a pawn in their game, and they used her, careless of her terror, her
beauty, her pain. Then he freed from her waist the long cord which ran
beneath the curtain to Adele Rossignol's foot. Celia's first thought
was one of relief. He would jerk the cord unwittingly. They would come
into the recess and see him. And then the real truth flashed in upon
her blindingly. He had jerked the cord, but he had jerked it
deliberately. He was already winding it up in a coil as it slid
noiselessly across the polished floor beneath the curtains towards him.
He had given a signal to Adele Rossignol. All that woman's scepticism
and precaution against trickery had been a mere blind, under cover of
which she had been able to pack the girl away securely without arousing
her suspicions. Helene Vauquier was in the plot, too. The scarf at
Celia's mouth was proof of that. As if to add proof to proof, she heard
Adele Rossignol speak in answer to the signal.

"Are we all ready? Have you got Mme. Dauvray's left hand, Helene?"

"Yes, madame," answered the maid.

"And I have her right hand. Now give me yours, and thus we are in a
circle about the table