Anne had switched on the light in her stateroom. Her face was flushed, her breath was still coming in quick, painful little gasps.
Her father would be here in a moment—as soon as his accomplice, the so-called Monsieur Faradeau, had been able to tell him what had happened. She expected that—that was what she was waiting for now—these were the consequences. But she had the paper, and the package was safe—there wouldn’t be any crime committed—John Crane would not be robbed. Her father must see the paper—and then she would tear it up, destroy it before his eyes—and—and accept the consequences. It would be better, safer, for whoever was to redeem the package that he should go back to Paris empty-handed. Eventually those to whom it belonged would get it—but her father and his accomplice, when t
