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.