"Ye-es." Her voice was almost inaudible.
"Is he planning something?"
For a moment Alice hesitated, biting her red lips, then with a quick impulse, she lifted her dark eyes to Coquenil. "I must tell you, I have no one else to tell, and I am so distressed, so—so afraid." She caught his hands pleadingly in hers, and he felt that they were icy cold.
"I'll protect you, that's what I'm here for," he assured her, "but go on, speak quickly. What is he planning?"
"He's planning to take me away, away from Paris, I'm sure he is. I overheard him just now telling Mother Bonneton to pack my trunk. He says he will spend three or four days in Paris, but that may not be true, he may go at once to-night. You can't believe him or trust him, and, if he takes me away, I—I may never come back."
"He won't take you away," said M. Paul reassuring, "that is, he won't if—See here, you trust me?"
"Oh, yes."
"You'll do exactly what I tell you, exactly, without asking how or why?"
"I will," she declared.
"You're a plucky little girl," he said as he met her unflinching look. "Let me think a moment," and he turned back and forth in the hall, brows contracted, hands deep in his pockets. "I have it!" he exclaimed presently, his face brightening. "Now listen," and speaking slowly and distinctly, the detective gave Alice precise instructions, then he went over them again, point by point.