"You will have to trust yourself implicitly in my hands," said Sheard's extraordinary companion. "In a moment I shall ask you to fasten your handkerchief about your eyes and to give me your word that you are securely blindfolded!"
"Is it necessary?"
"Quite! Are you nervous?"
"No!"—shortly.
There was a brief interval of silence, during which the car, as well as it was possible to judge, whirled through the deserted streets at a furious speed.
"Will you oblige me?" came the musical voice.
The journalist took out his pocket-handkerchief, and making it into a bandage, tied it firmly about his head.
"Are you ready?" asked Séverac Bablon.
"Yes."
A click told of a raised blind.