“Madam Guiscardini,” he whispered in her ear, “you would consult your own interest in consenting to hear me. I come from Captain Paul Desfrayne, and I wish to ask you a few questions about Leonardo Gilardoni.” This time the signora could not restrain the scream that rose to her lips. She stared wildly about her, and then at the enemy who had so suddenly sprung up before her. The idea that he was a detective became almost a certainty. He had come to tax her with her double crime. She must be cool and quiet, she thought the next moment, and strive not to betray herself. Whatever he had to say, however, must not be said before these prying, gossiping menials. With surprising quickness, she rallied her forces, resisted the inclination to swoon, and without answering her strange visitor, turned back to Finette. “Put on your bonnet, girl, quick as lightning, and go to the opera-house,” she said to her maid. “Tell Mr. Mervyn that I was on my way to him, but was detained at the last moment, and that I shall not be able to sing to-night. Take this medical certificate with you.” Finette took the paper, and flew up-stairs, glad of the chance of a pleasant drive, yet vexed that she could not stay to find out the mystery that was going on. Madam Guiscardini turned to Frank Amberley. “Follow me,” she said, in harsh accents. She glided up to the drawing-room, feeling at every step as if her knees must yield under her. The young lawyer silently followed her, wondering at the success which had attended his effort to obtain an interview with her. “Now, sir, may I ask the nature of your business with me?” madam said, when she had closed the door, across which she pulled the silken portière to deaden the sounds from within, for she distrusted all her servants. She advanced to the windows, as the point farthest away from the reach of eavesdroppers, but neither seated herself nor asked her visitor to sit down. “You may imagine that I have nothing very agreeable to say, judging by the quarter from which I come,” said Frank Amberley. “You say you come from Captain Desfrayne? What business can you have to transact between Captain Desfrayne and myself?” asked the signora, with an affectation of surprise and curiosity. “You do not mention the other name.” “What other name?” “The name of Leonardo Gilardoni--of your husband, madam.” The wretched woman’s hand closed on the slender inlaid back of a chair for support. Every vestige of color faded from her face, and her eyes looked haggard for a moment. “I don’t know whom you mean,” she whispered, rather than said. “That is a falsehood, madam.” “Why should you say that? By what right or license do you come within my house to harass--to torture me?”