“What is it? A gold cross, a pendant for a watch-chain.” “More than that.” “What do you mean?” “Sir, may I ask you a question?” “A thousand, if you will let me have my own property, and be brief enough to let me get to bed within half an hour, for I sorely need rest.” “Sir--my good master, to whom I owe so much kindness and charity--I am not going to ask this question out of impertinent curiosity, but--but from a sufficiently reasonable and strong motive.” “Come, let us have the question without further preamble.” “I will ask you two questions. Did you buy this cross, or was it given to you?” Captain Desfrayne hesitated before replying, as a man in the witness-box might do for fear of criminating himself. “It was given to me,” he at length replied. “By a woman?” Captain Desfrayne looked keenly at his questioner. The idea that he was a former lover of the beautiful Italian prima donna’s, again occurred to him. “If it will afford you any gratification to know, I do not object to admitting that it was given to me by a woman,” he said. “By an Italian?” “By an Italian? Yes.” “It was a love-gift?” An exclamation of anger escaped Gilardoni’s master, and he impatiently stretched out his hand. “Enough of this nonsense!” he exclaimed, with displeasure. “Give me that packet, and get you to bed. Your wits are addled by the nap you were betrayed into.” Gilardoni moved a step nearer to Captain Desfrayne, and, gripping him tightly by the wrist, looked with intent, searching earnestness into his face, as if he would read his soul. There was nothing sinister or menacing in his attitude, gestures, or expression. He had simply the appearance of a man carried away by some self-absorbing desire to learn a fact of paramount interest to himself. “This cross,” he said, “was given to you by Lucia Guiscardini.” “I do not understand why the fact should interest you,” answered Paul Desfrayne. “It certainly did come from her hand. What was Lucia Guiscardini to you, or you to Lucia Guiscardini, that the sight of her gifts to another should cause you so much emotion?” “Did she tell you where she had obtained this toy?” asked Gilardoni. “I did not think of inquiring. She linked it on my watch-chain one day, and there was an end of the affair.” “I knew this as well as if I had been present,” muttered the Italian. “Oh! false, wicked, traitorous serpent!” These latter words he spoke so rapidly in his native language that his master did not catch their import. “If you knew, why the deuce have you put yourself to the trouble of asking so many questions? I should be glad to know what you mean by cross-examining me in this ridiculous manner. You apparently consider you have no very good reason to like this same Lucia Guiscardini. Has she done you any harm?” “She has ruined my happiness--blighted my life--that is all. No, I have no great reason to remember her with feelings of good-will.”