in the darkness until the faint click of the gate
was heard once more. Then the light was turned up again.

"We must go," said Wethermill. All the three of them were shaken. They
stood looking at one another, white and trembling. They spoke in
whispers. To get out of the room, to have done with the business--that
had suddenly become their chief necessity.

Adele picked up the necklace and the rings from the satin-wood table
and put them into a pocket-bag which was slung at her waist.

"Hippolyte shall turn these things into money," she said. "He shall set
about it to-morrow. We shall have to keep the girl now--until she tells
us where the rest is hidden."

"Yes, keep her," said Helene. "We will come over to Geneva in a few
days, as soon as we can. We will persuade her to tell." She glanced
darkly at the girl. Celia shivered.

"Yes, that's it," said Wethermill. "But don't harm her. She will tell
of her own will. You will see. The delay won't hurt now. We can't come
back and search for a little while."

He was speaking in a quick, agitated voice. And Adele agreed. The
desire to be gone had killed even their fury at the loss of their
prize. Some time they would come back, but they would not search
now--they were too unnerved.

"Helene," said Wethermill, "get to bed. I'll come up with the
chloroform and put you to sleep."

Helene Vauquier hurried upstairs. It was part of her plan that she
should be left alone in the villa chloroformed. Thus only could
suspicion be averted from herself. She did not shrink from the
completion of the plan now. She went, the strange woman, without a
tremor to her ordeal. Wethermill took the length of rope which had
fixed Celia to the pillar.

"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 g