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Such a wind, too, may be expected to be a fairly fast wind, the calculation being that, as a general rule, the velocity of currents increases from the ground at the rate of about three miles per hour for each thousand feet of height; thus the chance of a balloon drifting speedily across the breadth of Arabia is a strong one, and, regarded in this light, the distance to be traversed is certainly not excessive, being probably well within the lasting power of such a balloon as that employed by Andree.
A future Andree, provided with a means of maintaining his gas supply for six weeks, need have no hesitation in laying his course towards the North Pole, being confident that the winds must ultimately waft him to some safe haven. He could, indeed, well afford, having reached the Pole, to descend and build his cairn, or even to stop a week, if he so desired, before continuing on his way.
Andree let a dozen of the animals out lions, leopards, a tiger, and a bear, and they gambolled round her playfully, sometimes quarrelling with each other, but brought up smartly by her voice and a little whip, which she always carried the only sign of professional life about her, though there was ever a dagger hid in her dress. For the rest, she looked a splendid gipsy.
"This is your native Brittany, Andree," he said. She pointed far over the sea: "Near that light at Penmark I was born." "Can you speak the Breton language?" "Far worse than you speak Parisian French." He laughed. "You are so little like these people!" She had vanity. That had been part of her life.
He turned it over and over, forgetting that Andree was watching him. Looking up, he caught her eyes, with their strange, sad look. She guessed what was in these letters. She knew English well enough to under stand them. He interpreted her look, and pushed them over. "You may read them, if you wish; but I wouldn't, if I were you." She read the telegram first, and asked who "Faramond" was.
Four men downstairs. Myself here, my chauffeur in the next room. You're done for. Do you want me to save you?" Dalbreque gave his adversary a long look: "Who are you?" "A friend of Rose Andree's," said Renine. The other started and, to some extent dropping his mask, retorted: "What are your conditions?" "Rose Andree, whom you have abducted and tormented, is dying in some hole or corner.
In the shadow of the hood, right at the back, behind the chauffeur, Rose Andree was kneeling beside a man lying on the seat. "Oh," stammered Hortense, "it's incredible! Then it was you who hid him last night? And he was there, in front of the inn, when the inspector was seeing us off?" "Lord, yes! He was there, under the cushions and rugs!" "It's incredible!" she repeated, utterly bewildered.
When Ambroise and Andree alighted they were at first much surprised to find that everybody had come to meet them, drawn up in a row with solemn mien.
Why could they not leave these women alone? Did they think none of them virtuous? He would stake his life that Andree he would call her that was as straight as the sun. "What do you think of her, Jacques?" he said suddenly. "It is grand. Mon Dieu, she is wonderful and a face all fire!" Presently she came out of the cage, followed by two great lions.
The door suddenly opened and Valentine reappeared, distracted, red with fear and anger, and carrying her little Andree, who wailed and struggled in her arms. "There, there, my pet," gasped the mother, "don't cry, she shan't hurt you any more. There, it's nothing, darling; be quiet, do." Then she deposited the little girl in a large armchair, where she at once became quiet again.
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