The next moment the step of the latter made the valet start violently and turn. He fumbled with the paper, and tried to turn over the pages, but his hands were trembling so much that he was unable to do so; and Captain Desfrayne was at the table before he could conceal what had so much interested him. It was the engraved portrait of the beautiful singer who had been sitting in the balcony in Porchester Square the evening before. Paul Desfrayne looked at the man, who had not had time to compose his features. There was an expression of deadly hatred yet lingering upon them, though he evidently tried hard to master his emotion. For an instant Captain Desfrayne felt an almost overwhelming desire to speak to him about the signora; but a second thought determined him to be silent, and appear not to have noticed the little mute scene. He resolved, however, at all hazards, to engage this man in his service; for his curiosity, if no deeper feeling, was strongly excited. “My good fellow,” he began, in a very kindly tone, “I am sincerely sorry, but I totally forgot our arrangement. I had business of the utmost importance to attend to, and so it slipped from my memory.” Gilardoni bowed very low, dexterously turning the paper as he did so. “I trust you will excuse the liberty I took in waiting for you, sir,” he answered, with profound humility. “But I have no friend save you, if I can dare to call you a friend.” Paul Desfrayne had resolved to take the fellow into his service, if he were anything short of an escaped galley-slave. He did not tell him so, however, but said very quietly: “I hope I may be able to show you some kindness, for you seem sorely in need of it.” Gilardoni clasped his hands, and looked at the captain. “I will serve you truly and well, if you will let me,” he cried. “What recommendations--what credentials have you to show?” asked Captain Desfrayne. The man eagerly unbuttoned his shabby, threadbare coat, and, diving his thin fingers into an inner pocket, drew forth a bundle of letters and papers. He chose one document, which he extended to Captain Desfrayne. “This is a written character from my poor master, sir. You knew his writing--you will see what he says of me.” Captain Desfrayne took the envelope; and opening it, was about to extract the enclosure, when a small, folded morsel of note-paper fell out, and dropped on the table. Quick as lightning, Gilardoni snatched it up--not rudely, but with a kind of panic expressed in his face and in every gesture. Captain Desfrayne’s eye had caught sight of the characters before he was aware that he was guilty of any possible indiscretion in looking upon them. The blood rushed to his face, and then receded to his heart. Only too easily did he recognize the ill-formed characters. It was the writing of the woman who had influenced his life for evil--the beautiful Signora Guiscardini.