"I shall find her here asleep among the flowers, forgetful of the dangers that encompass her young life."
He declared to Mme. Lorraine that he did not want to miss a single beauty of the romantic old garden, and dragged her remorselessly all over its length and breadth. Perhaps she guessed his intent, but she made no sign. She was bright, amiable, animated, all that a woman can be who hopes to charm a man.
He scarcely heeded her, so frantically was he looking everywhere for a crouching white form that he could not find. There came to him suddenly a horrified remembrance of her pathetic words:
"There is still the river!"
A bell somewhere in the distance chimed the half hour in silvery tones. Only thirty minutes more to midnight!
With some incoherent excuse he tore himself away from her, and dashing wildly out into the street, ran against Pierre Carmontelle for the second time that night.
"I have waited for hours, and was just coming to seek you. What does this mean?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.
A whispered explanation forced a smothered oath from his lips.
"Be calm. There is but one way left us. We will conceal ourselves near the door and wrest her from them when they bring her out," said Eliot Van Zandt.