The Contessa Morone! She was then in Verona after all. This discovery removed all my doubts concerning the identity of the ghoul. She was the woman who had left the vault in the burial-ground. She was the woman who had slain Guiseppe Pallanza in the secret chamber of the deserted palace, and she was the woman seated in the shadow of the box, talking idly as though she had no terrible crime to burden her conscience. If I could only see her face I would then recognise her; but, as if she had some presentiment of danger, she persistently looked everywhere but in my direction. As I gazed she moved slightly, the bright light of a lamp shone on her neck, and I saw a sudden tongue of red flame flash through the semi-twilight of the box, which at once reminded me of the necklace of rubies worn by that terrible vampire of the graveyard. Eager to know all about this woman, whom I felt sure was the murderess of Pallanza, I listened breathlessly to the two officers who were still talking about her. "It is a year since Morone died," said Teodoro, lowering his opera-glass, "and she has lived since at Rome, where I met her. Why has she returned here?" "Eh, who knows! Perhaps to reside again at the Palazzo Morone." "That tomb. Diamine! She must become a ghost to live there." "Ebbene, Teodoro! the ghost of Lucrezia Borgia! Why does she not marry again?" "Who knows! I wouldn't like to be her husband in spite of her money. Corpo di Bacco! a woman who sees in the dark like a cat." "The evil eye!" "Yes! and everything else that's wicked. I do not like that Signora at all." "Che peccato! you might marry her." "Or her money! Ecco!" They both laughed, and, the act being ended, left their seats. I also went out into the corridor for a smoke and a breath of fresh air, feeling deeply sorry that this interesting conversation had been interrupted. From what one of the officers had said she was evidently a nyctalopyst, and could see in the dark, which accounted at once for the unerring way in which she had threaded the dark streets, and was also the reason that she now remained secluded in the shadow of her box, preferring the darkness to the light. Puzzling over these things, and wondering how I could get a glimpse of her face, I lighted a cigarette and strolled about in the vestibule of the theatre with the rest of the crowd. There were a goodly number of civilians of all sizes, ages, and complexions, while the military element was represented by a fair sprinkling of officers in the picturesque uniforms of the Italian army. The air was thick with tobacco-smoke there was a clatter of vivacious voices, and the great doors of the theatre were thrown wide open to admit the fresh night air into the overpoweringly hot atmosphere. Being wrapt up in my ideas about the Contessa Morone and her extraordinary behaviour, I leaned against a pillar and took no notice of any one, when suddenly a tall officer stopped in front of me and held out his hand.