“Now, Nina, please to dress my hair; and, in the meantime, tell us all you know about this singular transportation during the night. You must realize that it is a very trying situation to us.”
Dora seated herself, and the girl went to work, with nimble and willing fingers, to bind up and arrange her abundant golden tresses; and after a few moments’ hesitation, replied:
“Mademoiselle must excuse me, for I cannot answer her question.”
“Why not?” asked Miss Dupont, with a pout upon her red lips.
“Because—because the chief—I mean his lordship—will do that,” stammered Nina, in confusion.
Dora was startled from her seat by a sharp shriek from her aunt, who sprang frantically from the bed, wringing her hands, and exclaiming:
“The chief! the chief! Do you hear, Dora?—the chief! Oh, heavens! we are in the hands of a band of robbers—in the hands of those awful smugglers that we heard about at the hotel! I see it all now—the trouble with the horses, their plunging and rearing; that dreadful noise as of some one falling; the unnatural tones of the driver, which was not Thomas at all! All—all is as plain as day to me now. Oh, Dora, Dora, my darling, we are lost!”
Dora, with a pale face, turned to Nina, and demanded sternly:
“Girl, what have you to say? Is what my aunt suspects the truth?”
“Ah! pardon, pardon, mademoiselle, but I dare not tell!” cried the poor girl, with streaming eyes and clasped hands, for she was touched to the heart with their cruel distress.