had been dining
with Mme. Dauvray and the woman opposite, who was now her jailer. Mme.
Dauvray lay dead in the little salon, and she herself--she dared not
think what lay in front of her. She was to be persuaded--that was the
word--to tell what she did not know. Meanwhile her name would be
execrated through Aix as the murderess of the woman who had saved her.
Then suddenly the car stopped. There were lights outside. Celia heard
voices. A man was speaking to Wethermill. She started and saw Adele
Tace's arm flash upwards. She sank back in terror; and the car rolled
on into the darkness. Adele Tace drew a breath of relief. The one point
of danger had been passed. They had crossed the Pont de la Caille, they
were in Switzerland.

Some long while afterwards the car slackened its speed. By the side of
it Celia heard the sound of wheels and of the hooves of a horse. A
single-horsed closed landau had been caught up as it jogged along the
road. The motor-car stopped; close by the side of it the driver of the
landau reined in his horse. Wethermill jumped down from the chauffeur's
seat, opened the door of the landau, and then put his head in at the
window of the car.

"Are you ready? Be quick!"

Adele turned to Celia.

"Not a word, remember!"

Wethermill flung open the door of the car. Adele took the girl's feet
and drew them down to the step of the car. Then she pushed her out.
Wethermill caught her in his arms and carried her to the landau. Celia
dared not cry out. Her hands were helpless, her face at the mercy of
that grim flask. Just ahead of them the lights of Geneva were visible,
and from the lights a silver radiance overspread a patch of sky.
Wethermill placed her in the landau; Adele sprang in behind her and
closed the door. The transfer had taken no more than a few seconds. The
landau jogged into Geneva; the motor turned and sped back over the
fifty miles of empty road to Aix.

As the motor-car rolled away, courage returned for a moment to Celia.
The man--the murderer--had gone. She was alone with Adele Rossignol in
a carriage moving no faster than an ordinary trot. Her ankles were
free, the gag had been taken from her lips. If only she could free her
hands and choose a moment when Adele was off her guard she might open
the door and spring out on to the road. She saw Adele draw down the
blinds of the carriage, and very carefully, very secretly, Celia began
to work her hands behind her. She was an adept; no movemen