At The Villa Rose

But he came at once straight towards her. He stood in front of

her, looking into her eyes. But he uttered no cry. He made no

movement of surprise. Celia did not understand it. His face was in

the shadow now and she could not see it. Of course, he was

stunned, amazed. But--but--he stood almost as if he had expected

to find her there and just in that helpless attitude. It was

absurd, of course, but he seemed to look upon her helplessness as

nothing out of the ordinary way. And he raised no hand 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.