With her hand upon her heaving breast, as if to allay an acute pain that centred there, her white lips moved, but no sound escaped them. She listened. The servants had gone. Carmenilla was downstairs chatting with Tristram; the house at last seemed silent and deserted, therefore Gemma, losing no time in further indecision, and holding her silken skirts tight around her so that they should not rustle, crept out on tiptoe, holding in her hand the key which Montelupo had given her. At first she proceeded slowly and noiselessly, but, fearing detection, hurried forward as she approached the door of the Ambassador's room. At last she gained it, breathless. With scarce a sound she placed the key in the lock, and a moment later was inside, closing the door after her. Unhesitatingly she went straight to the table, and placed her hand upon the drawer containing the document. It was locked. Next instant her heart beat wildly as her quick eye espied the key still remaining in another drawer, and, taking it, she opened the locked drawer and stood examining the great blue official envelope in her hand. Yes, the blue pencil mark was upon it in the form of a cross, as the Marquis had described. She had gained what she sought. Triumph was hers. Quickly she turned to make her exit, but next second fell back with a loud wild cry of alarm. Count Castellani had entered noiselessly, and was standing erect and motionless between her and the door. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A WOMAN'S DIPLOMACY. Gemma stood immovable; a deathly pallor overspread her cheeks, her eyes fixed themselves in terror upon this tall, well-dressed man, who was her bitterest enemy. With one trembling hand she had clutched the revolving book-stand for support; the other held the envelope containing the secret document. She dared not to breathe; amazement and alarm held her dumb. "And by what right, pray, do you enter my room?" the Ambassador inquired, after a few seconds of silence, complete and painful. His face was blanched in anger; in his dark eye was a keen glance of suspicion and hatred. She laughed--that strange hollow laugh which her lover knew so well. "I came to call on you," she answered. The door was closed, and they were alone together. "And you entered my room to pry into my private papers?" he said, his blood rising. "What's that you have in your hand?" She set her lips firmly. She was no longer the sweet, almost childlike girl, but a hard-faced, desperate woman. "A paper I want," she boldly answered, at the same moment doubling the envelope in half, and crushing it in her palm. "Then you have at last become so bold that you actually have the audacity to enter one's house and steal whatever you think proper?" he cried, in a towering passion. "Fortunately, I've returned in time to frustrate your latest bit of infernal ingenuity."