in pain, and her throat burned. She buried her face
in her arms and sobbed. All her body shook with her sobbing. Jeanne
Rossignol took no notice. She treated Celie just as the others had
done. Celia was la petite, against whom she had no animosity, by whom
she was not to be touched to any tenderness. La petite had
unconsciously played her useful part in their crime. But her use was
ended now, and they would deal with her accordingly. She removed the
girl's hat and cloak and tossed them aside.

"Now stay quiet until we are ready for you," she said. And Celia,
lifting her head, said in a whisper:

"Water!"

The old woman poured some from a jug and held the glass to Celia's lips.

"Thank you," whispered Celia gratefully, and Adele came into the room.
She told the story of the night to Jeanne, and afterwards to Hippolyte
when he joined them.

"And nothing gained!" cried the older woman furiously. "And we have
hardly a five-franc piece in the house."

"Yes, something," said Adele. "A necklace--a good one--some good rings,
and bracelets. And we shall find out where the rest is hid--from her."
And she nodded at Celia.

The three people ate their supper, and, while they ate it, discussed
Celia's fate. She was lying with her head bowed upon her arms at the
same table, within a foot of them. But they made no more of her
presence than if she had been an old shoe. Only once did one of them
speak to her.

"Stop your whimpering," said Hippolyte roughly. "We can hardly hear
ourselves talk."

He was for finishing with the business altogether to-night.

"It's a mistake," he said. "There's been a bungle, and the sooner we
are rid of it the better. There's a boat at the bottom of the garden."

Celia listened and shuddered. He would have no more compunction over
drowning her than he would have had over drowning a blind kitten.

"It's cursed luck," he said. "But we have got the necklace--that's
something. That's our share, do you see? The young spark can look for
the rest."

But Helene Vauquier's wish prevailed. She was the leader. They would
keep the girl until she came to Geneva.

They took her upstairs into the big bedroom overlooking the lake. Adele
opened the door of the closet, where a truckle-bed stood, and thrust
the girl in.

"This is my room," she said warningly, pointing to the bedroom. "Take
care I hear no noise. You might shout yourself hoarse, my pretty one;
no one else would hear you. But I should, and aft