“One glance at the sufferer convinced me that the days of Count Crispi were numbered--whether he was operated on or not. The taint of the tumor was in every artery of his shriveled frame. “‘It is of no use adding fresh torture to the brief span of your life,’ I told him. ‘You have less than a month to live in any case.’ “‘You lie!’ he said, fiercely. ‘I will live--I must live! You think that I am old, and that the fire has forever left my veins! Ha! you cold Northerners know nothing of the passions of the children of the South! I tell you that I will live, for the sake of one whom I adore--one who is to be my wife. She is youthful--she is beautiful! _Carissima mia!_’ “I was startled into a feeling of pity and contempt. It seemed absurd for so old a man, on the verge of eternity, going into raptures of this kind. “‘If you insist, Count Crispi, I suppose that, as I have accepted the commission and your fee, I must do my best, but I warn you that it will be needless infliction of pain and disappointment upon you.’ “But no words of mine could dissipate the strong belief that he cherished in the certainty of his speedy recovery, and I began to make arrangements for the operation, which I decided should be conducted in two days’ time. “In the meanwhile, however, I was careful to inform all those friends who were immediately concerned in his welfare that his death, which was certainly near at hand, would possibly be accelerated by the needless butchery. Among these friends I made the acquaintance of the young girl whom he professed to love so violently, and I must confess that I was almost bewildered by her brilliant beauty.” John Hamilton paused, and Sir Harold saw that he was momentarily overcome by the emotions which were raised by this recital of the story from the shadowy past. “Let me continue,” Mr. Hamilton said, hastily brushing a tear from his cheek. “Sir Harold, I soon discovered that this beautiful, guileless creature was Count Crispi’s wealthy ward, and that, while she feared the man, she also loathed him. In my pity for Theresa Ludovci, I soon drifted into a passion that seemed to consume me. I loved her as strong men love but once in a lifetime, and she returned my adoration only as such burning natures can. “At all risks, I determined that she should be my wife, and within two weeks of the count’s operation we fled, and a priest made us one. “When the story reached the ears of Count Crispi, his rage was so great that he fell back with blood-flecked lips, and with his last breath denounced me as an assassin. I had deliberately planned his death, so that an obstacle might be removed which threatened the disruption of my connubial pleasures. “His relatives, who had counted upon being the ultimate recipients of a goodly share of Theresa’s wealth, registered an oath of vengeance, and a vendetta began, under the awful ban of which my beloved wife died, two weeks after the birth of our daughter--Theresa.