Very rapidly she communicated her intention to Michel, telling him at the same time the full particulars of Rossie’s incarceration in the _Maison de Sante_, and bidding him repeat it in Haelder-Strauchsen, if there was a great stir on account of the abduction. Mr. Morton had paid his bills at the inn, and said that he should not return, as he was going to a point higher up the river, so no suspicions could be awakened there of anything wrong until the alarm was given at the house. And this, in all human probability, would not be till late the next morning, when, as Yulah failed to appear, inquiries might be made, and the door of No. — be forced open, and by that time the fugitives would be miles and miles away, speeding on toward the west, and Michel Fahen would be smoking his pipe very unconcernedly at the door of his kitchen, knowing nothing whatever of any escaped lunatic, or of Yulah Van Eisner’s whereabouts; knowing nothing, except that he carried some English-talking people to a railroad station, and was rewarded for it by many, many _thalers_. So, of whatever commotion or excitement there was, Mr. and Mrs. Morton were ignorant, and kept rapidly on their way until the continent was crossed, and they felt safe in the seclusion of crowded London. Here they rested in lodgings a few days, and called the best medical advice for Rossie, who, since recovering from the dead faint in which she had been more than an hour, had been just on the border land, where her reason seemed hesitating whether to go or stay. When it first came to her in the carriage who it was bending so lovingly over her, she had burst into a wild fit of weeping, which frightened them more than the faint had done. Her first words, when she did speak, were: “Everard, where are you? hold my hand in yours and I shall not be afraid.” At a sign from his wife, Mr. Morton took Rossie’s hand in his and held it, while Bee whispered to her, “Don’t talk now, darling. It is all right. We are going home.” How much Rossie realized of that rapid journey, which was continued day and night, they could not guess, for she never spoke again or showed any sign that she understood what was passing around her, except to answer their questions in monosyllables and smile so sweetly and trustfully in their faces when they told her, as they often did, that she was safe, until London was reached, and they laid her in the clean, sweet bed in the large, airy room in quiet Kensington, where they had taken lodgings. For several days they staid in London, and then took passage for home in the _City of Berlin_, where everything was done to make the voyage comfortable and easy for Rossie, who talked but little, and who, when she did speak, always asked, “How long before I shall see Everard?”