The Geneva Road

The car had nearly reached Annecy before Celia woke to
consciousness. And even then she was dazed. She was only aware
that she was in the motor-car and travelling at a great speed. She
lay back, drinking in the fresh air. Then she moved, and with the
movement came to her recollection and the sense of pain. Her arms
and wrists were still bound behind her, and the cords hurt her
like hot wires. Her mouth, however, and her feet were free. She
started forward, and Adele Rossignol spoke sternly from the seat
opposite.

"Keep still. I am holding the flask in my hand. If you scream, if
you make a movement to escape, I shall fling the vitriol in your
face," she said.

Celia shrank back, shivering.

"I won't! I won't!" she whispered piteously. Her spirit was broken
by the horrors of the night's adventure. She lay back and cried
quietly in the darkness of the carriage. The car dashed through
Annecy. It seemed incredible to Celia that less than six hours ago
she had been dining with Mme. Dauvray and the woman opposite, who
was now her jailer. Mme. Dauvray lay dead in the little salon, and
she herself--she dared not think what lay in front of her. She was
to be persuaded--that was the word--to tell what she did not know.
Meanwhile her name would be execrated through Aix as the murderess
of the woman who had saved her. Then suddenly the car stopped.
There were lights outside. Celia heard voices. A man was speaking
to Wethermill. She started and saw Adele Tace's arm flash upwards.
She sank back in terror; and the car rolled on into the darkness.
Adele Tace drew a breath of relief. The one point of danger had
been passed. They had crossed the Pont de la Caille, they were in
Switzerland.