"That's terrible," she said with a low voice, and again "That's terrible!" Then with a cry she stood erect "You shall see! Come!" and she ran towards the motorcar.
The sunlit day was spoilt for both of them. Betty drove homewards, bending over the wheel, her eyes fixed ahead. But Frobisher wondered whether she saw anything at all of that white road which the car devoured. Once as they dropped from the highland and the forests to the plains, she said:
"We shall abide by what we see?"
"Yes."
"If Hanaud thinks her innocent, she should stay. If he thinks her guilty, she must go."
"Yes," said Frobisher.
Betty guided the car through the streets of the city, and into a wide square. A great church of the Renaissance type, with octagonal cupolas upon its two towers and another little cupola surmounted by a loggia above its porch, confronted them. Betty stopped the car and led Frobisher into the porch. Above the door was a great bas-relief of the Last Judgment, God amongst the clouds, angels blowing trumpets, and the damned rising from their graves to undergo their torments. Both Betty and Frobisher gazed at the representation for a while in silence. To Frobisher it was a cruel and brutal piece of work which well matched Hanaud's revelation of his true belief.
"Yes, the message is easy to read," he said: and they drove back in a melancholy silence to the Maison Crenelle.
The chauffeur, Georges, came forward from the garage to take charge of the car. Betty ran inside the house and waited for Jim Frobisher to join her.
"I am so sorry," she said in a broken voice. "I kept a hope somewhere that we were all mistaken ... I mean as to the danger Ann was in.... I don't believe for a moment in her guilt, of course. But she must go—that's clear."