Scarcely had it been brought, when the door again opened, and there lounged in leisurely a tall, well-built, handsome man in long dark overcoat and brown soft felt hat. Without hesitation he walked straight to her table, bowed politely, and with a word of greeting seated himself. Her face went white as the marble before her; she held her breath. In that instant she recollected it was the day, the hour, and the place mentioned in that remarkable letter found upon her unfortunate friend Vittorina--that letter which had so puzzled and mystified the Ambassador, the police, the newspaper reporters, and the British public. She had been entrapped. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A RULER OF EUROPE. "Well?" Gemma exclaimed, quickly recovering herself, and looking keenly into the dark face of the newcomer. "Well?" he said, imitating with a touch of sarcasm the tone in which she had spoken, at the same time taking a cigarette from his case and lighting it with a vesta from the china stand upon the table. "What does this mean?" she inquired in Italian, regarding him with a look which clearly showed his presence was unwelcome. "Finish your coffee and come out with me. I must speak with you. Here it's too risky. We might be overheard. St James's Park is near, and we can talk there without interruption," he said. Evidently a gentleman, aged about fifty-five, with long iron-grey side-whiskers and hair slightly blanched. His eyes were intelligent and penetrating, his forehead broad and open, his chin heavy and decisive, and he was undoubtedly a man of stern will and wide achievements. He spoke polished Italian, and his manner was perfect. Gemma kept her eyes fixed upon him, fascinated by fear. Her gloved hand trembled perceptibly as she raised her cup to her lips. "You had no idea that you would meet me--eh?" he laughed, speaking in an undertone. "Well, drink your coffee, and let us take a cab to the Park." He flung down sixpence to the waiter, and they went out together. She walked mechanically into the street, dumbfounded, stupefied. By his side she staggered for a few paces, then halting said, in a sudden tone of anger-- "Leave me! I refuse to accompany you." Her companion smiled. It was already dark, the shop windows were lit, and the hurrying crowd of passers-by did not notice them. "You'll come with me," the man said sternly. "I want to talk to you seriously, and in privacy. It was useless in that place with half a dozen people around, all with ears open. Besides," he added, "in a cafe of that sort I may be recognised." Then he hailed a passing cab. "No, no!" she cried, as it drew up to the kerb. "I won't go--I won't!" "But you shall!" he declared firmly, taking her arm. "You know me well enough to be aware that I'm not to be trifled with. Come, you'll obey me." She hesitated for a moment, gazed blankly around her as if seeking some one to protect her, sighed, and then slowly ascended into the vehicle.