"One moment," interrupted Armytage, who, standing beside his well-beloved, had been intently watching the face of this desperate malefactor during this argument--"one moment," he said coolly. "This visit is a very fortuitous circumstance. A face such as yours, one never forgets--never. We have met before." "I think not, signore," the other answered, smiling with that ineffable politeness which so often nauseates. "I haven't the pleasure of knowing you, save that I presume you are the affianced husband to the Signora Contessa." "But I know you, although it isn't much of a pleasure," Armytage answered quickly, in a voice that showed that he was not to be trifled with. "You declare that we've never met before. Well, I'll just refresh your memory," he went on, slowly and deliberately. "One night, the night previous to leaving for Italy, while passing the Criterion on my way from the Junior United Service to the Alhambra, I saw a cab stop and my friend Captain Tristram alight and enter the bar, when almost next moment a man brushed past me. Beneath the electric light I saw his face distinctly. I saw him raise his hat, mount the step of the cab, shake hands cordially with the girl sitting inside the vehicle, and at once dart away. I didn't enter the Criterion, as I had an appointment with a man at the Alhambra, and was late. Next morning, however, when in the train between London and Dover, on my way to Italy, I read in the paper that the girl I had seen had been murdered." He paused for an instant to watch the effect of his words; then declared, in a voice which betrayed no hesitation. "The man who brushed past me and mounted on the steps of the cab was you! It was you who killed her!" The colour died from Nenci's face. He tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them. This unexpected denunciation fell upon him as a blow; it crushed him and held him speechless, spell-bound. "Is it really true?" cried the Captain, open-mouthed, as astonished as the murderer himself. "This man before you was the murderer. To that I bear witness!" Armytage replied. "She was going to his house at Hammersmith," Tristram said, perplexed. "There must have been some motive in killing her before she arrived there." "Of course. It's easy to discern that such a crime allayed all suspicions. No one would dream that the man calmly waiting at home expecting her arrival was actually the man who murdered her." The dark-faced outlaw, watching the two men with covert glance, made a swift movement towards the door. But Tristram was too quick for him, and springing forward, placed his back against it, saying--