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 before Adele Rossignol; she is so severe in
her criticism, is she not? But since we are alone, I will presume
to point out to mademoiselle that those diamond eardrops which I
see peeping out under the scarf are a little ostentatious in her
present predicament. They are a provocation to thieves. Will
mademoiselle permit me to remove them?"
She caught her by the neck and lifted her up. She pushed the lace
scarf up at the side of Celia's head. Celia began to struggle
furiously, convulsively. She kicked and writhed, and a little
tearing sound was heard. One of her shoe-buckles had caught in the
thin silk covering of the cushion and slit it. Helene Vauquier let
her fall. She felt composedly in her pocket, and drew from it an
aluminium flask--the same flask which Lemerre was afterward to
snatch up in the bedroom in Geneva. Celia stared at her in dread.
She saw the flask flashing in the light. She shrank from it. She
wondered what new horror was to grip her. Helene unscrewed the top
and laughed pleasantly.