Instantly she halted. Her look of pleasure gave place to one of hatred. Her visitor was not Charles Armytage, but the man who, only twelve hours before, had secured her and her companions within that room with the terrible engine of death in their midst. It was Lionello Nenci, who stood with his back to the window, his hands idly in his pockets. His sallow face was that of a man haunted by terror, and driven to desperation. His cheeks were pale beneath their southern bronze, and his black eyes glittered with unnatural fire as he advanced towards her. "You!" she gasped in withering contempt. "You! The mean despicable cur who sought to kill us!" "Yes!" he answered unabashed. "Shut the door. I want to speak to you." In involuntary obedience she closed the door, and the _portiere_ fell behind her. "I should have thought, after your infamous conduct last night, you would not ever dare to face me again," she cried in scorn. "Such treachery is only worthy of gaol-birds and traitors." "You deserved it," he laughed roughly. "You are one of the latter. It was you," he went on mercilessly--"you, with your innocent-looking face, who gave the whole plot away, who exposed us to the Ministry, and put the English police upon us; you who sought our arrest and punishment. It is but what was to be expected of such a woman as yourself, the spy and mistress of Montelupo." "Mistress!" she echoed, in an instant frenzy of passion. "I'm not his mistress. I swear I've never been. You know that's a foul lie!" "Every one in Italy believes it," he said, with a brutal laugh. "When they know that you were implicated in the plot, and gave it away to him, it will confirm their suspicions." She looked at him, intense hatred in her glance. "And you have come here to tell me this!" she cried. "Having failed in your dastardly attempt last night, you come here to-day to taunt me with the past!" "No. The reason I've called is to calmly explain the position. The police are already upon us, but the Doctor and Romanelli have left London. I unfortunately, am unable, for I've no money," he added, in a whining tone. "I've come to throw myself upon your generosity; to ask you for some." "You wish me, the woman whom you denounce as a spy and traitor--whom you and your infamous companions endeavoured to kill--you ask me to furnish you with funds so that you may escape the punishment you deserve?" she cried in scorn, amazed at his boldness. "I shall not stir a finger to save you," she answered promptly.