"Yes, Marchesa," replied the handsome naval captain, bowing low over her hand with that peculiar Italian courtesy. "A little confidential matter," and he laughed. Then, after a cigarette and a tiny glass of green certosa, the Admiral and the chief of his staff left. As soon as they had gone, Elena rushed to her room, slipped off her dining-gown, and, putting on a tweed skirt and blouse, hurried from the house. She slipped along the dark, narrow side street, until suddenly she emerged on to the moonlit promenade, and ascended the dimly lit stone stairs which led to the room occupied by Carlo Corradini. In response to her ring, the spy of Austria at once admitted her. "Why, Elena! This is a surprise. What has happened?" he asked eagerly. The Admiral's wife passed into the little sitting-room, and, without seating herself, revealed hastily what was intended, adding: "I must return home at once or Guilio may wonder where I am." "What a plot!" exclaimed the dark-haired traitor. "It does the greatest credit to your husband's ingenuity." Then, suddenly reflecting, he said in a strange, hard voice: "If I act successfully your husband himself may be charged with giving away secrets to the enemy. If so, because you love him, you might denounce me, Elena." After a second's pause, he added: "I trust no one. Not even you. My life is at stake in this affair. Therefore, you will swear that, whatever happens, and even if suspicion be cast upon your husband, you will never betray me?" "Of course, Carlo. Am I not Austrian? I swear it." The spy took from a table a book covered with shiny black leather, and pressed it very firmly into her hand. It was a copy of the New Testament. "Kiss it--and swear," he said. In obedience, she acted as he wished, repeating a solemn oath after him. "I trust you, Elena," he said fervently, at the same time gallantly kissing the back of the white, slim hand which had held the book. "And I trust you, Carlo," she whispered. "Trust in me. No suspicion must rest upon anybody. I leave that to your own clever ingenuity." A few moments later she descended the steep stone stairs to hurry home as quickly as she could. Arriving at the great _palazzo_, she at once resumed her smart dinner-gown, and, entering the salon half an hour afterwards, sat down to await her husband's return. Ere she had done this, however, the motor-launch of the Countess Malipiero, driven by old Beppo, sped out from the harbour on pretence of taking an invitation to one of the lieutenants on board the battleship _Italia_, which was lying just within the Mole. He slowed up alongside one of the guardships by the boom, and as he did so the great eye of a searchlight was turned full upon him. Then, at once recognised by the watchman on duty, he was allowed to pass out to sea. Being such a familiar figure, no suspicion had ever been cast upon the stern, patriotic old fellow.