At last, at nearly ten o'clock that night, her husband returned, hard-faced and haggard. With him was his chief of staff, Captain Vivarini, Madame Gabrielle, and myself. The instant we entered the room she saw that Guilio was not his old self. "Elena," he said abruptly, in a deep, hard voice, "I have something to say to you, and I have brought Vivarini here as witness." "As witness," she echoed, starting to her feet. "Of what?" "As witness that you are innocent of the charge made against you, that you, though my wife, are a spy of Austria." "A spy," she laughed uneasily, in pretence of ridicule. "Have you really taken leave of your senses, Guilio?" "I have not. Tell me," he demanded, "why are you wearing that glove?" I saw that she held her breath. Her face was instantly blanched to the lips. "Because last night I scratched my hand," she replied. "Please remove it, and allow me to see the scratch." "I refuse," she cried angrily. Next instant, at a sign from the Marchese, Vivarini and I seized her hand, when her husband, roughly tearing off the white kid glove, examined her palm. He stood aghast. "_Dio_!" gasped the horrified man. "The brand is here. You, Elena, my wife, you are the spy." "Guilio," shrieked the unhappy woman, flinging herself frantically upon her knees before him. "Forgive me. _Santa Madonna_! Forgive me!" "I may forgive you, Elena," replied the Admiral, in a low, stern voice, "but Italy will never forgive." Then, turning abruptly, he left the room, the Captain following. But as he passed out two agents of the Italian secret police passed in, and a few seconds later the wretched woman found herself under arrest. It was not until her trial by court-martial, in Milan, two weeks later, that the Marchesa learned, from the evidence given by Madame Gabrielle and myself, the truth of Carlo Corradini's terrible vengeance--a long-nurtured grievance that he had held against her ever since those days in Budapest, when, on proposing to her, she had laughed him to scorn, and had actually told people of his poverty. He had sworn to be avenged, and truly his vengeance had been both ingenious and complete. On the evening when she had brought to his room the information regarding the captured submarine he had handed her the Testament upon which to take her oath of secrecy. Upon the shiny black leather cover of that book he had traced with a solution of nitrate of silver, mixed with other chemicals, a geometrical design--a square divided in half, the lower part being left blank, and in the upper portion a "V", above it being traced a small circle.