darkness. The girl strained and
twisted against the pillar furiously, like an animal in a trap. But the
coils of rope held her; the scarf suffocated her. The scuffling became
a spasmodic sound, with intervals between, and then ceased altogether.
A voice spoke--a man's voice--Wethermill's. But Celia would never have
recognised it--it had so shrill and fearful an intonation.

"That's horrible," he said, and his voice suddenly rose to a scream.

"Hush!" Helene Vauquier whispered sharply. "What's the matter?"

"She fell against me--her whole weight. Oh!"

"You are afraid of her!"

"Yes, yes!" And in the darkness Wethermill's voice came querulously
between long breaths. "Yes, NOW I am afraid of her!"

Helene Vauquier replied again contemptuously. She spoke aloud and quite
indifferently. Nothing of any importance whatever, one would have
gathered, had occurred.

"I will turn on the light," she said. And through the chinks in the
curtain the bright light shone. Celia heard a loud rattle upon the
table, and then fainter sounds of the same kind. And as a kind of
horrible accompaniment there ran the laboured breathing of the man,
which broke now and then with a sobbing sound. They were stripping Mme.
Dauvray of her pearl necklace, her bracelets, and her rings. Celia had
a sudden importunate vision of the old woman's fat, podgy hands loaded
with brilliants. A jingle of keys followed.

"That's all," Helene Vauquier said. She might have just turned out the
pocket of an old dress.

There was the sound of something heavy and inert falling with a dull
crash upon the floor. A woman laughed, and again it was Helene Vauquier.

"Which is the key of the safe?" asked Adele.

And Helene Vauquier replied:--

"That one."

Celia heard some one drop heavily into a chair. It was Wethermill, and
he buried his face in his hands. Helene went over to him and laid her
hand upon his shoulder and shook him.

"Do you go and get her jewels out of the safe," she said, and she spoke
with a rough friendliness.

"You promised you would blindfold the girl," he cried hoarsely.

Helene Vauquier laughed.

"Did I?" she said. "Well, what does it matter?" "There would have been
no need to--" And his voice broke off shudderingly.

"Wouldn't there? And what of us--Adele and me? She knows certainly that
we are here. Come, go and get the jewels. The key of the door's on the
mantelshelf. While you are away we two will arrange the pretty baby in
ther