-world," she said solemnly.

Meanwhile, in the hall Helene Vauquier locked and bolted the front
door. Then she stood motionless, with a smile upon her face and a heart
beating high. All through that afternoon she had been afraid that some
accident at the last moment would spoil her plan, that Adele Tace had
not learned her lesson, that Celie would take fright, that she would
not return. Now all those fears were over. She had her victims safe
within the villa. The charwoman had been sent home. She had them to
herself. She was still standing in the hall when Mme. Dauvray called
aloud impatiently:

"Helene! Helene!"

And when she entered the salon there was still, as Celia was able to
recall, some trace of her smile lingering upon her face.

Adele Rossignol had removed her hat and was taking off her gloves. Mme.
Dauvray was speaking impatiently to Celia.

"We will arrange the room, dear, while Helene helps you to dress. It
will be quite easy. We shall use the recess."

And Celia, as she ran up the stairs, heard Mme. Dauvray discussing with
her maid what frock she should wear. She was hot, and she took a
hurried bath. When she came from her bathroom she saw with dismay that
it was her new pale-green evening gown which had been laid out. It was
the last which she would have chosen. But she dared not refuse it. She
must still any suspicion. She must succeed. She gave herself into
Helene's hands. Celia remembered afterwards one or two points which
passed barely heeded at the time. Once while Helene was dressing her
hair she looked up at the maid in the mirror and noticed a strange and
rather horrible grin upon her face, which disappeared the moment their
eyes met. Then again, Helene was extraordinarily slow and
extraordinarily fastidious that evening. Nothing satisfied her, neither
the hang of the girl's skirt, the folds of her sash, nor the
arrangement of her hair.

"Come, Helene, be quick," said Celia. "You know how madame hates to be
kept waiting at these times. You might be dressing me to go to meet my
lover," she added, with a blush and a smile at her own pretty
reflection in the glass; and a queer look came upon Helene Vauquier's
face. For it was at creating just this very impression that she aimed.

"Very well, mademoiselle," said Helene. And even as she spoke Mme.
Dauvray's voice rang shrill and irritable up the stairs.

"Celie! Celie!"

"Quick, Helene," said Celia. For she herself was now anxious to have