Tony shook his head.
“Can’t be done,” he answered. “It seems that infernal train is the only means of getting up and down from here. You can’t motor or drive. There’s no road.”
The out-of-date magazine slid suddenly off Ann’s knee and fell with a plop on the floor.
“Are you serious?” she asked, still hardly able to believe him. “Do you really mean we—we’ve got to stay the night here?”
She could read the answer to her question in the unmistakable concern which was written on his face.
“Oh, but it’s impossible!” she exclaimed in deep dismay. “We can’t—we can’t stay here!” She sprang up, clasping and unclasping her hands agitatedly. “Don’t you see, Tony, that it’s impossible?”
“We’ve no choice,” he replied bluntly. “If there were any possible way of getting you back to Villa Mon Rêve to-night, I’d move heaven and earth to do it. But there isn’t. We’ve no more chance of getting away from here than rats in a trap.”