"I'll follow," he said, and as he turned he stumbled over the body
of Mme. Dauvray. With a shrill cry he kicked it out of his way and
crept up the stairs. Adele Rossignol quickly set the room in
order. She removed the stool from its position in the recess, and
carried it to its place in the hall. She put Celia's shoes upon
her feet, loosening the cord from her ankles. Then she looked
about the floor and picked up here and there a scrap of cord. In
the silence the clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the quarter past
eleven. She screwed the stopper on the flask of vitriol very
carefully, and put the flask away in her pocket. She went into the
kitchen and fetched the key of the garage. She put her hat on her
head. She even picked up and drew on her gloves, afraid lest she
should leave them behind; and then Wethermill came down again.
Adele looked at him inquiringly.
"It is all done," he said, with a nod of the head. "I will bring
the car down to the door. Then I'll drive you to Geneva and come
back with the car here."
He cautiously opened the latticed door of the window, listened for
a moment, and ran silently down the drive. Adele closed the door
again, but she did not bolt it. She came back into the room; she
looked at Celia, as she lay back upon the settee, with a long
glance of indecision. And then, to Celia's surprise--for she had
given up all hope--the indecision in her eyes became pity. She
suddenly ran across the room and knelt down before Celia. With
quick and feverish hands she untied the cord which fastened the
train of her skirt about her knees.
At first Celia shrank away, fearing some new cruelty. But Adele's
voice came to her ears, speaking--and speaking with remorse.
"I can't endure it!" she whispered. "You are so young--too young
to be killed."
The tears were rolling down Celia's cheeks. Her face was pitiful
and beseeching.
"Don't look at me like that, for God's sake, child!" Adele went
on, and she chafed the girl's ankles for a moment.
"Can you stand?" she asked.
Celia nodded her head gratefully. After all, then, she was not to
die. It seemed to her hardly possible. But before she could rise a
subdued whirr of machinery penetrated into the room, and the
motor-car came slowly to the front of the villa.
"Keep still!" said Adele hurriedly, and she placed herself in
front of Celia.
Wethermill opened the wooden door, while Celia's heart raced in
her bosom.
"I will go down and open the gate," he whispered. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Wethermill disappeared; and this time he left the door open. Adele
helped Celia to her feet. For a moment she tottered; then she
stood firm.