"Every single member of the staff is down in the Park with orders to stay there—false orders. The lifts are all put out of action beyond possibility of being repaired for several hours. That's how things stand. Now we must get to the Palace as quickly as we possibly can. God knows what has happened or may be happening there."
"This way, quick!" he said, when he had listened to me with strained attention.
He took my arm, hurried me into the back part of the house, opened a door with a key and we entered a bedroom which I had not before seen. The windows were shuttered and curtained but the electric light—which never failed either my villa or the Palace during the whole of those terrible hours—made every detail clear. Upon the bed, lying as if asleep, was Juanita. Leaning over her was a tall, elderly, hard-featured French woman with a typical Norman face.
I staggered back into Bill Rolston's arms.
"Good God!" I cried, and then, "She's not dead, tell me she's not dead!"
Marie, the French maid, turned.
"She's perfectly well, M'sieu, only she's had a fainting fit and I've given her something to keep her quiet."
She spoke in French.
"Then how do you come here, what's happened?"
"At some time in the night, M'sieu, I think it must have been between two and three, the warning bell, which is always attached to my bed, began to ring. I knew exactly what to do. It was part of Mr. Morse's precautions, in which he had drilled us. When that bell rang, at whatever time of day or night, I was to wake M'selle instantly, dress her without a second's delay, and bring her out of the Palace by a secret way.