tended
for much conversation. It is a costume for a mood of quiet reflection.
But I assure mademoiselle that for pretty young ladies who are the
favourites of rich old women it is the style most recommended by the
criminal classes."

All the woman's bitter rancour against Celia, hidden for months beneath
a mask of humility, burst out and ran riot now. She went to Adele
Rossignol's help, and they flung the girl face downwards upon the sofa.
Her face struck the cushion at one end, her feet the cushion at the
other. The breath was struck out of her body. She lay with her bosom
heaving.

Helene Vauquier watched her for a moment with a grin, paying herself
now for her respectful speeches and attendance.

"Yes, lie quietly and reflect, little fool!" she said savagely. "Were
you wise to come here and interfere with Helene Vauquier? Hadn't you
better have stayed and danced in your rags at Montmartre? Are the smart
frocks and the pretty hats and the good dinners worth the price? Ask
yourself these questions, my dainty little friend!"

She drew up a chair to Celia's side, and sat down upon it comfortably.

"I will tell you what we are going to do with you, Mlle. Celie. Adele
Rossignol and that kind gentleman, M. Wethermill, are going to take you
away with them. You will be glad to go, won't you, dearie? For you love
M. Wethermill, don't you? Oh, they won't keep you long enough for you
to get tired of them. Do not fear! But you will not come back, Mile.
Celie. No; you have seen too much to-night. And every one will think
that Mlle. Celie helped to murder and rob her benefactress. They are
certain to suspect some one, so why not you, pretty one?"

Celia made no movement. She lay trying to believe that no crime had
been committed, that that lifeless body did not lie against the wall.
And then she heard in the room above a bed wheeled roughly from its
place.

The two women heard it too, and looked at one another.

"He should look in the safe," said Vauquier. "Go and see what he is
doing."

And Adele Rossignol ran from the room.

As soon as she was gone Vauquier followed to the door, listened, closed
it gently, and came back. She stooped down.

"Mlle. Celie," she said, in a smooth, silky voice, which terrified the
girl more than her harsh tones, "there is just one little thing wrong
in your appearance, one tiny little piece of bad taste, if mademoiselle
will pardon a poor servant the expression. I did not mention it befo