He took up the taper which his valet had lighted, and went into his bedroom, saying he had no need of further service from Gilardoni. Then he closed and locked the door, and sat down on the edge of his bed, to consider his position. A thousand distracting thoughts ran through his brain, but above all dominated the one idea that he must, at any hazard, try to find out if the Padre Josef were alive or dead. If alive, he could loose these agonizing bonds that were cutting his life-strings. If dead---- If dead, then no hope remained. At all events, the first step would be to see Frank Amberley. What if he essayed another interview with Lucia Guiscardini, and, armed with his present knowledge, sought to extort some kind of confession from her? Should he endeavor to make her tell whether she knew, or did not know, if her brother yet lived? With his unhappy experience of her obstinate and violent temper, he could scarcely hope for any good result from seeing her. He had no power or influence over her, could offer no inducement of any kind to persuade her to admit anything. Too well he knew beforehand that she would flatly deny her marriage with Leonardo Gilardoni--would probably deny that she had now or ever had had a brother at all. She would either laugh in his face, or storm with rage, as the humor suited her. To seek out the priest would demand an immense outlay, and if, after all, the search should prove unavailing, or he should be dead, then he, Paul Desfrayne, would be left penniless, and possibly heavily in debt. Would it be well to send Gilardoni on the quest? No one would seek as he should. Each little trifle that might escape others, however hawk-eyed, would be sure clues to his eager, vengeful glance. “I will decide nothing now,” he at last thought. “I will be entirely guided by Frank Amberley’s advice. He will be able to judge what is best, and, if the search is advisable, will be capable of estimating the probable expenses. My liberty alone would be worth ten years of my life.” For a moment the vision of what might be if his freedom were secured presented itself before his mind, but he dared not indulge in the dangerous contemplation of such a joy, and sank into troubled slumbers as the first rays of the morning sun penetrated into the chamber. His face looked worn and weary in the fresh morning beams, as it rested on his arm. The heart of his fond mother must have been melted with love and pity had she gazed on the distressed face, and noted the restless tossing of the wearied body, to which sleep seemed to bring no refreshment. * * * * * The day came in its inevitable course. Lady Quaintree and Lois made sure that they would see Captain Desfrayne during the afternoon. Ordinary etiquette, if no other feeling, must bring him to inquire how the young ladies fared after their fright.