Now it was one of my dear father's iron-bound rules that no well-bred person ever evinces surprise at his surroundings; but it is my firm conviction that even he would have excused the exclamation which burst from my lips upon entering that apartment; in point of fact it is quite possible to conceive of his joining with me in expressing astonishment. For far from being the sordid den which I had been prepared to see, it was a room of such luxury as I have seldom beheld. The furniture was fit to grace a museum, the rugs were priceless, while on the wall hung several fine paintings, among which I was horrified to recognize the Florentine Madonna and Rubens' Venus and Mars. There were other art treasures too--carvings, candelabra and goodness only knows what not. At the moment my interest focused so sharply upon the central figures in the drama that I was unable to register more than a chaotic impression of immense wealth. The museums of Europe might well have envied that collection. The duke turned quietly to Peaches. "Alicia!" he said. "Now tell me--I don't understand why you have come. It cannot be to betray me." "Sandro!" she cried. "It is I who don't understand. You can't be a common thief! And if you are, I don't care. You--you may get over it. And I came because I love you. Do I have to tell you that? I'm never going away from you again!" The duke turned very white and backed away from her. "Look here!" he said. "I can't let you do this, you know. I've run away from you once--don't make it impossible, Alicia!" "But I have loved you right along," she persisted. "We heard that you were dead--and so I thought I might as well marry Mark, you know--because nothing seemed to matter. Oh, don't send me away! Look--I have carried your wallet all these years." Well, of course, Peaches exaggerated a little when she said that, but it was no time for correcting her statement. And anyhow the duke didn't seem to care. With a swift gesture he took it from her. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "No? And still you believe in me!" "I knew there was something in it!" exclaimed Richard, the chauffeur. And he was right. There was. To think that I could have overlooked such a fact! Hurriedly the duke took out his penknife, ripped the edges apart, and from the interlining took out a thin packet wrapped in waterproof tissue. And I had felt that pad and thought it was mere stuffing! With skillful--too skillful--fingers he unfolded the covering, and opening up the paper it contained he spread it upon the table for us all to see. "Look!" he said. "I want you to understand what this is before we go any further. This bit of paper is a _carte blanche_ from--from a very important person in Italy. See, his signature." We looked--and though I was the only one of the three that could read Italian the two others were scarcely less impressed than I was. For the duke had spoken truly.