Celia's uneasiness grew into fear.

She could have used the words which Hanaud spoke the next day in that very room--"There is something here which I do not understand." The touch of Adele Tact's hands communicated something to her--something which filled her with a vague alarm.

She could not have formulated it if she would; she dared not if she could.

She had but to stand and submit.
"Now," said Adele.
She took the girl by the shoulders and set her in a clear space in the middle of the room, her back to the recess, her face to the mirror, where all could see her.
"Now, Celie"-- she had dropped the "Mlle." and the ironic suavity of her manner--"try to free yourself." For a moment the girl's shoulders worked, her hands fluttered.

But they remained helplessly bound.
"Ah, you will be content, Adele, to-night," cried Mme.