"Dr. Riccabocca--nothing. But--" here Randal put his lips close to the Italian's ear, and whispered a brief sentence. Then retreating a step, but laying his hand on the exile's shoulder, he added--"Need I say that your secret is safe with me?" Riccabocca made no answer. His eyes rested on the ground musingly. Randal continued--"And I shall esteem it the highest honor you can bestow on me, to be permitted to assist you in forestalling danger." RICCABOCCA (slowly).--"Sir, I thank you; you have my secret, and I feel assured it is safe, for I speak to an English gentleman. There may be family reasons why I should avoid the Count di Peschiera; and, indeed, He is safest from shoals who steers clearest of his--relations." The poor Italian regained his caustic smile as he uttered that wise, villainous Italian maxim. RANDAL.--"I know little of the Count of Peschiera save from the current talk of the world. He is said to hold the estates of a kinsman who took part in a conspiracy against the Austrian power." RICCABOCCA.--"It is true. Let that content him; what more does he desire? You spoke of forestalling danger? What danger? I am on the soil of England, and protected by its laws." RANDAL.--"Allow me to inquire if, had the kinsman no child, the Count di Peschiera would be legitimate and natural heir to the estates he holds?" RICCABOCCA.--"He would. What then?" RANDAL.--"Does that thought suggest no danger to the child of the kinsman?" Riccabocca recoiled, and gasped forth, "The child! You do not mean to imply that this man, infamous though he be, can contemplate the crime of an assassin?" Randal paused perplexed. His ground was delicate. He knew not what causes of resentment the exile entertained against the Count. He knew not whether Riccabocca would not assent to an alliance that might restore him to his country--and he resolved to feel his way with precaution. "I did not," said he, smiling gravely, "mean to insinuate so horrible a charge against a man whom I have never seen. He seeks you--that is all I know. I imagine from his general character, that in this search he consults his interest. Perhaps all matters might be conciliated by an interview!" "An interview!" exclaimed Riccabocca; "there is but one way we should meet--foot to foot, and hand to hand." "Is it so? Then you would not listen to the Count if he proposed some amicable compromise; if, for instance, he was a candidate for the hand of your daughter?" The poor Italian, so wise and so subtle in his talk, was as rash and blind when it came to action, as if he had been born in Ireland, and nourished on potatoes and Repeal. He bared his whole soul to the merciless eye of Randal. "My daughter!" he exclaimed. "Sir, your question is an insult."