Dauvray between the two women, securely held by them.
And she herself could not utter a cry--could not move a muscle to help her.
Wethermill crept back on noiseless feet to the window, closed the wooden doors, and slid the bolts into their sockets.

Yes, Helene Vauquier was in the plot.

The bolts and the hinges would not have worked so smoothly but for her.

Darkness again filled the recess instead of the grey twilight.

But in a moment a faint breath of wind played upon Celia's forehead, and she knew that the man had parted the curtains and slipped into the room.