At The Villa Rose

The car had nearly reached Annecy before Celia woke to

consciousness. And even then she was dazed. She was only aware

that she was in the motor-car and travelling at a great speed. She

lay back, drinking in the fresh air. Then she moved, and with the

movement came to her recollection and the sense of pain. Her arms

and wrists were still bound behind her, and the cords hurt her

like hot wires. Her mouth, however, and her feet were free. She

started forward, and Adele Rossignol spoke sternly from the seat

opposite.

"Keep still. I am holding the flask in my hand. If you scream, if

you make a movement to escape, I shall fling the vitriol in your

face," she said.

Celia shrank back, shivering.

"I won't! I won't!" she whispered piteously. Her spirit was broken

by the horrors of the night's adventure. She lay back and cried

quietly in the darkness of the carriage. The car dashed through

Annecy. It seemed incredible to Celia that less than six hours ago

she 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.