"Keep quiet, little one!" she ordered in a careless, chiding
voice, and she rapped with the flask peremptorily upon the table.
Immediately, as though the tapping had some strange message of
terror for the girl's ear, she stiffened her whole body and lay
rigid.
"I am not ready for you yet, little fool," said the old woman, and
she bent again to her work.
Ricardo's brain whirled. Here was the girl whom they had come to
arrest, who had sprung from the salon with so much activity of
youth across the stretch of grass, who had run so quickly and
lightly across the pavement into this very house, so that she
should not be seen. And now she was lying in her fine and delicate
attire a captive, at the mercy of the very people who were her
accomplices.
Suddenly a scream rang out in the garden--a shrill, loud scream,
close beneath the windows. The old woman sprang to her feet. The
girl on the sofa raised her head. The old woman took a step
towards the window, and then she swiftly turned towards the door.
She saw the men upon the threshold. She uttered a bellow of rage.
There is no other word to describe the sound. It was not a human
cry; it was the bellow of an angry animal. She reached out her
hand towards the flask, but before she could grasp it Hanaud
seized her. She burst into a torrent of foul oaths. Hanaud flung
her across to Lemerre's officer, who dragged her from the room.
"Quick!" said Hanaud, pointing to the girl, who was now struggling
helplessly upon the sofa. "Mlle. Celie!"
Ricardo cut the stitches of the sacking. Hanaud unstrapped her
hands and feet. They helped her to sit up. She shook her hands in
the air as though they tortured her, and then, in a piteous,
whimpering voice, like a child's, she babbled incoherently and
whispered prayers. Suddenly the prayers ceased. She sat stiff,
with eyes fixed and staring. She was watching Lemerre, and she was
watching him fascinated with terror. He was holding in his hand
the large, bright aluminium flask. He poured a little of the
contents very carefully on to a piece of the sack; and then with
an exclamation of anger he turned towards Hanaud. But Hanaud was
supporting Celia; and so, as Lemerre turned abruptly towards him
with the flask in his hand, he turned abruptly towards Celia too.
She wrenched herself from Hanaud's arms, she shrank violently
away. Her white face flushed scarlet and grew white again. She
screamed loudly, terribly; and after the scream she uttered a
strange, weak sigh, and so fell sideways in a swoon. Hanaud caught
her as she fell. A light broke over his face.
"Now I understand!" he cried. "Good God! That's horrible."