"Now I understand!" he cried. "Good God! That’s horrible."
CHAPTER XIII
It was well, Mr. Ricardo thought, that some one understood. For himself, he frankly admitted that he did not. Indeed, in his view the first principles of reasoning seemed to be set at naught. It was obvious from the solicitude with which Celia Harland was surrounded that every one except himself was convinced of her innocence. Yet it was equally obvious that any one who bore in mind the eight points he had tabulated against her must be convinced of her guilt. Yet again, if she were guilty, how did it happen that she had been so mishandled by her accomplices? He was not allowed however, to reflect upon these remarkable problems. He had too busy a time of it. At one moment he was running to fetch water wherewith to bathe Celia’s forehead. At another, when he had returned with the water, he was distracted by the appearance of Durette, the inspector from Aix, in the doorway.
"We have them both," he said-"Hippolyte and the woman. They were hiding in the garden."
"So I thought," said Hanaud, "when I saw the door open downstairs, and the morphia-needle on the table."
Lemerre turned to one of the officers.
"Let them be taken with old Jeanne in cabs to the depot."
And when the man had gone upon his errand Lemerre spoke to Hanaud.
"You will stay here tonight to arrange for their transfer to Aix?"
"I will leave Durette behind," said Hanaud. "I am needed at Aix. We will make a formal application for the prisoners." He was kneeling by Celia’s side and awkwardly dabbing her forehead with a wet handkerchief. He raised a warning hand. Celia Harland moved and opened her eyes. She sat up on the sofa, shivering, and looked with dazed and wondering eyes from one to another of the strangers who surrounded her. She searched in vain for a familiar face.
"You are amongst good friends. Mlle. Celie," said Hanaud with great gentleness.
"Oh, I wonder! I wonder!" she cried piteously.
"Be very sure of it," he said heartily, and she clung to the sleeve of his coat with desperate hands.
"I suppose you are friends," she said; "else why-?" and she moved her numbed limbs to make certain that she was free. She looked about the room. Her eyes fell upon the sack and widened with terror.
"They came to me a little while ago in that cupboard there-Adele and the old woman Jeanne. They made me get up. They told me they were going to take me away. They brought my clothes and dressed me in everything I wore when I came, so that no single trace of me might be left behind. Then they tied me." She tore off her gloves and showed them her lacerated wrists. "I think they meant to kill me-horribly." And she caught her breath and whimpered like a child. Her spirit was broken.
"My poor girl, all that is over," said Hanaud. And he stood up.
But at the first movement he made she cried incisively, "No," and tightened the clutch of her fingers upon his sleeve.
"But, mademoiselle, you are safe," he said, with a smile. She stared at him stupidly. It seemed the words had no meaning for her. She would not let him go. It was only the feel of his coat within the clutch of her fingers which gave her any comfort.
"I want to be sure that I am safe," she said, with a wan little smile.
"Tell me, mademoiselle, what have you had to eat and drink during the last two days?"
"Is it two days?" she asked. "I was in the dark there. I did not know. A little bread, a little water."
"That’s what is wrong," said Hanaud. "Come, let us go from here!"
"Yes, yes!" Celia cried eagerly. She rose to her feet, and tottered. Hanaud put his arm about her. "You are very kind," she said in a low voice, and again doubt looked out from her face and disappeared. "I am sure that I can trust you."
Ricardo fetched her cloak and slipped it on her shoulders. Then he brought her hat, and she pinned it on. She turned to Hanaud; unconsciously familiar words rose to her lips.
"Is it straight?" she asked. And Hanaud laughed outright, and in a moment Celia smiled herself.
Supported by Hanaud she stumbled down the stairs to the garden. As they passed the open door of the lighted parlour at the back of the house Hanaud turned back to Lemerre and pointed silently to the morphia-needle and the phial. Lemerre nodded his head, and going into the room took them away. They went out again into the garden. Celia Harland threw back her head to the stars and drew in a deep breath of the cool night air.
"I did not think," she said in a low voice, "to see the stars again."
They walked slowly down the length of the garden, and Hanaud lifted her into the launch. She turned and caught his coat.
"You must come too," she said stubbornly.
Hanaud sprang in beside her.
"For tonight," he said gaily, "I am your papa!"
Ricardo and the others followed, and the launch moved out over the lake under the stars. The bow was turned towards Geneva, the water tumbled behind them like white fire, the night breeze blew fresh upon their faces. They disembarked at the landing-stage, and then Lemerre bowed to Celia and took his leave. Hanaud led Celia up on to the balcony of the restaurant and ordered supper. There were people still dining at the tables.
One party indeed sitting late over their coffee Ricardo recognised with a kind of shock. They had taken their places, the very places in which they now sat, before he and Hanaud and Lemerre had left the restaurant upon their expedition of rescue. Into that short interval of time so much that was eventful had been crowded.
Hanaud leaned across the table to Celia and said in a low voice:
"Mademoiselle, if I may suggest it, it would be as well if you put on your gloves; otherwise they may notice your wrists."
Celia followed his advice. She ate some food and drank a glass of champagne. A little colour returned to her cheeks.
"You are very kind to me, you and monsieur your friend," she said, with a smile towards Ricardo. "But for you-" and her voice shook.
"Hush!" said Hanaud-"all that is over; we will not speak of it."
Celia looked out across the road on to the trees, of which the dark foliage was brightened and made pale by the lights of the restaurant. Out on the water some one was singing.
"It seems impossible to me," she said in a low voice, "that I am here, in the open air, and free."
Hanaud looked at his watch.
"Mlle. Celie, it is past ten o’clock. M. Ricardo’s car is waiting there under the trees. I want you to drive back to Aix. I have taken rooms for you at an hotel, and there will be a nurse from the hospital to look after you."
"Thank you, monsieur," she said; "you have thought of everything. But I shall not need a nurse."
"But you will have a nurse," said Hanaud firmly. "You feel stronger now-yes, but when you lay your head upon your pillow, mademoiselle, it will be a comfort to you to know that you have her within call. And in a day or two," he added gently, "you will perhaps be able to tell us what happened on Tuesday night at the Villa Rose?"
Celia covered her face with her hands for a few moments. Then she drew them away and said simply:
"Yes, monsieur, I will tell you."
Hanaud bowed to her with a genuine deference.