"Ça marche plus."
"Comment?" she screamed at him, although she had heard only too well.
"Plus d'essence," he explained briefly, spitting into a puddle. "C'est fini."
There it was concisely; she could take it or leave it. No more petrol, and still at least a mile away from the Villa Firenze. As well write "finis" to her whole desperate attempt. How she had got this far without fainting was almost a miracle; if she tried to walk the remaining distance she was quite certain to fall by the wayside. At the moment the one thing that would have brought her some slight relief would have been to slay this old man—and she had no weapon.
Slowly she got out of the mouldy cab and began automatically to unfasten the strap of her watch. At least she must pay her debts….
"Plus dessence… C'est fini…."
The words rang in her brain like a knell.
CHAPTER XXXI
"Chalmers, was that Mr. Roger who came in? I thought I heard him."
"Yes, miss, he's in his room, but I fancy he's on his way to you. He asked where you were."