Before she had parted from the Marquis she had made a demand boldly and fearlessly, to which, not without the most vehement protest, he had been compelled to accede. She knew him well, and was aware that, in order to gain his own ends, he would betray and denounce his nearest relative; that, although a shrewd, clever statesman, he had won universal popularity and esteem in Italy by reason of certain shady transactions by which he had posed as the saviour of his country. The revelations she could make regarding the undercurrent of affairs in Rome would astound Europe. For that reason he had been forced to grant her what she asked in return for the incriminating paper from the archives of the Embassy. For over an hour they sat together in the darkness engaged in a strange discussion, when at last they rose and together walked on, still deep in conversation. The Marquis had an appointment, and was about to take leave of her when, as they crossed the wide deserted space between the Admiralty and the Horse Guards, a man in a heavy fur-trimmed overcoat and felt hat, in hurrying past, gazed full into the faces of both. At that moment they were beneath one of the lamps flickering in the gusty wind, and he had full view of them. Gemma's eyes met his, and instantly the recognition was mutual. It was the man who had attempted to take her life--Frank Tristram. He had evidently arrived from the Continent by the day express from Paris, left his despatches at the Foreign Office, and was walking to his chambers in St James's Street by the nearest way across the Park. He usually preferred to walk home in order to stretch his legs, cramped as they were by many tedious hours in railway carriages. When he had passed he turned quickly as if to reassure himself, then, with some muttered words, he strode forward with his hands deep in his pockets and his head bent towards the cold boisterous wind. "Did you notice that man who has just passed?" Gemma gasped, in a low voice betraying alarm. "No; who was he?" asked the Marquis, turning back to glance at the retreating figure. "A man you know; Tristram, the English Foreign Office messenger." "Tristram!" ejaculated Montelupo quickly. "He's never recognised me?" "I think so," she replied. "He looked straight into your face." The Minister ejaculated a fierce Italian oath. "Then the fact that I'm in London will be at once made known," he said. "That is not of much importance, is it? Castellani already knows, for you've been to the Embassy."