Then, after some further conversation, the two men shook hands, and Charles Armytage slowly made his way downstairs and out across the wide, sunlit Piazza. From the window Consul Hutchinson watched his retreating figure, and noticed how self-absorbed he was as he strode along. His heart had gone out to sympathise in this brief interview, and a strong desire came upon him to help and protect the lonely Englishman. "Poor devil!" he muttered, "he's badly hit, and I fear he has a troublous time before him. I wish to God I could help him." CHAPTER TEN. THE MYSTERY OF GEMMA. When Armytage entered Gemma's pretty salon, the window of which commanded a wide view of the blue Mediterranean, she rose quickly from the silken divan with a glad cry of welcome. She was veiled and gloved ready to go out, wearing a smart costume of pearl grey, with a large black hat which suited her fair face admirably. "How late you are!" she exclaimed a trifle impetuously, pouting prettily as their lips met. "You said eleven o'clock, and it's now nearly one." "I've had a good deal to see after," he stammered. "Business worries from London." "Poor Nino!" she exclaimed sympathetically in her soft Italian, putting up her tiny hand and stroking his hair tenderly. Nino was the pet name she had long ago bestowed upon him. "Poor Nino! I didn't know you were worried, or I would not have complained. Excuse, won't you?" "Of course, dearest," he answered, sinking a trifle wearily into a chair; whilst she, regarding him with some surprise, reseated herself upon the divan, her little russet-brown shoe stretched forth coquettishly from beneath the hem of her well-made skirt. The room was small, but artistic. Its cosiness and general arrangement everywhere betrayed the daily presence of an artistic woman; and as he sat there with his eyes fixed upon her, he became intoxicated by her marvellous beauty. There was a softness about her face, an ingenuous sweetness which always entranced him, holding him spell-bound when in her presence. "You are tired," she said in a low, caressing tone. "Will you have some vermouth or marsala? Let me tell Margherita to bring you some." "No," he answered quickly; "I had a vermouth at Campari's as I passed. I'm a trifle upset to-day." "Why?" she inquired quickly, regarding him with some astonishment.