"Let the police enter," Armytage said, still pressing her slim figure in his arms. "You know, Gemma, that I love you." "No, no," she cried trembling; "I will see them alone. I must see them alone." "Why?" "I cannot bear that you should stand by and hear the terrible charge against me," she answered hoarsely. "No, let me go alone to them;" and she struggled to free herself. But he grasped her slim wrist firmly, saying, "I love you, and will be your protector. If they make allegations against you, they must prove them. I, the man who is to be your husband, may surely know the truth?" "But promise me that you will not heed what they say--you will not believe their foul, unfounded charges," she implored, lifting her pale face to his. "I believe implicitly in you, Gemma," he answered calmly. "Let them come in." Gemma, her hand in that of her lover, stood blanched and trembling in the centre of the room as the two police officers in plain clothes entered. One was a tall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with a pleasant face, a pair of dark, piercing eyes, and tiny coal-black moustache; while the other was younger, and, from the bronze of his countenance, evidently a Silician. "We are police officers," the elder man exclaimed. "We would prefer to speak to the signorina alone." "I am the closest friend of the signorina," Armytage said calmly. "I am about to make her my wife." The officer shrugged his shoulders, exhibited his palms, and a sarcastic smile played about his lips. "If I may presume to advise the Signor Conte," he said, "I certainly think that it would be best if I spoke to her alone." And Gemma, clinging to her lover, gazed imploringly into his face, adding--"Yes, caro. Let them speak to me alone." "No," the young Englishman answered firmly. "But the matter is a delicate one--extremely delicate," urged the delegato. "I certainly think that the signorina should be allowed to decide whether or not you should be present." "In a week or so we shall marry," declared Armytage. "What concerns signorina also concerns myself." "To please me, caro, will you not go out of the room for a moment?" Gemma cried in a low voice of earnest supplication. Her attitude was that of one who feared the revelation of some terrible secret, and in those moments her lover had become filled with a keen desire to penetrate the cloak of mystery which enveloped her. "No," he answered her, after a brief silence; "I have decided to remain and hear what the signor delegato has to say." The police official and the trembling woman exchanged quick glances. In the officer's gaze was a look of sympathy, for perhaps her beauty had softened his impressionable Italian nature; in her blue eyes was an expression of humiliation and abject fear. "My mission is very quickly accomplished," the delegato exclaimed slowly.