He summoned one of the servants to whom he handed Mary.  ’We leave in ten minutes,’ he said, and he went out to see to the car.

Mary’s first act in the bedroom to which she was taken was to bathe her eyes and brush her hair.  She felt dimly that she must keep her head clear.  Her second was to scribble a note to Wake, telling him what had happened, and to give it to the servant with a tip.

‘The gentleman will come in the morning,’ she said.  ’You must give it him at once, for it concerns the fate of your country.’  The woman grinned and promised.  It was not the first time she had done errands for pretty ladies.

Ivery settled her in the great closed car with much solicitude, and made her comfortable with rugs.  Then he went back to the inn for a second, and she saw a light move in the salle-a-manger.  He returned and spoke to the driver in German, taking his seat beside him.

But first he handed Mary her note to Wake.  ’I think you left this behind you,’ he said.  He had not opened it.

Alone in the car Mary slept.  She saw the figures of Ivery and the chauffeur in the front seat dark against the headlights, and then they dislimned into dreams.  She had undergone a greater strain than she knew, and was sunk in the heavy sleep of weary nerves.

When she woke it was daylight.  They were still in Italy, as her first glance told her, so they could not have taken the Staub route.  They seemed to be among the foothills, for there was little snow, but now and then up tributary valleys she had glimpses of the high peaks.  She tried hard to think what it could mean, and then remembered the Marjolana.  Wake had laboured to instruct her in the topography of the Alps, and she had grasped the fact of the two open passes.  But the Marjolana meant a big circuit, and they would not be in Switzerland till the evening.  They would arrive in the dark, and pass out of it in the dark, and there would be no chance of succour.  She felt very lonely and very weak.

Throughout the morning her fear grew.  The more hopeless her chance of defeating Ivery became the more insistently the dark shadow crept over her mind.  She tried to steady herself by watching the show from the windows.  The car swung through little villages, past vineyards and pine-woods and the blue of lakes, and over the gorges of mountain streams.  There seemed to be no trouble about passports.  The sentries at the controls waved a reassuring hand when they were shown some card which the chauffeur held between his teeth.  In one place there was a longish halt, and she could hear Ivery talking Italian with two officers of Bersaglieri, to whom he gave cigars.  They were fresh-faced, upstanding boys, and for a second she had an idea of flinging open the door and appealing to them to save her.  But that would have been futile, for Ivery was clearly amply certificated.  She wondered what part he was now playing.