ed to tingle with strange menaces. She
looked at Adele. Did they emanate from her? And her terror answered her
"Yes." She made her mistake in that. The strong personality in the room
was not Adele Rossignol, but Helene Vauquier, who held her like a child
in her arms. But she was definitely aware of danger, and too late aware
of it. She struggled vainly. From her head to her feet she was
powerless. She cried out hysterically to her patron:

"Madame! Madame! There is something--a presence here--some one who
means harm! I know it!"

And upon the old woman's face there came a look, not of alarm, but of
extraordinary relief. The genuine, heartfelt cry restored her
confidence in Celia.

"Some one--who means harm!" she whispered, trembling with excitement.

"Ah, mademoiselle is already under control," said Helene, using the
jargon which she had learnt from Celia's lips.

Adele Rossignol grinned.

"Yes, la petite is under control," she repeated, with a sneer; and all
the elegance of her velvet gown was unable to hide her any longer from
Celia's knowledge. Her grin had betrayed her. She was of the dregs. But
Helene Vauquier whispered:

"Keep still, mademoiselle. I shall help you."

Vauquier carried the girl into the recess and placed her upon the
stool. With a long cord Adele bound her by the arms and the waist to
the pillar, and her ankles she fastened to the rung of the stool, so
that they could not touch the ground.

"Thus we shall be sure that when we hear rapping it will be the
spirits, and not the heels, which rap," she said. "Yes, I am contented
now." And she added, with a smile, "Celie may even have her scarf,"
and, picking up a white scarf of tulle which Celia had brought down
with her, she placed it carelessly round her shoulders.

"Wait!" Helene Vauquier whispered in Celia's ear.

To the cord about Celia's waist Adele was fastening a longer line.

"I shall keep my foot on the other end of this," she said, "when the
lights are out, and I shall know then if our little one frees herself."

The three women went out of the recess. And the next moment the heavy
silk curtains swung across the opening, leaving Celia in darkness.
Quickly and noiselessly the poor girl began to twist and work her
hands. But she only bruised her wrists. This was to be the last of the
seances. But it must succeed! So much of Mme. Dauvray's happiness, so
much of her own, hung upon its success. Let her fail to-night, she
would be sur