Both men laughed. They knew well the character of this beautiful woman before them, and placed the most implicit confidence in her. "You really love him--eh?" Nenci inquired. "I've already told you so a dozen times," she answered impatiently. "But you won't desert us?" the younger man--whom they addressed as "The Gobbo," Italian for hunchback--said earnestly. "I am still with you," she answered. "It is impossible for me to serve two masters. What time is the consultation to-night?" "At ten," answered Nenci, glancing up at the cheap metal timepiece on the mantel. "Arnoldo should be here in five minutes." The door again opened, and Nenci's wife, a dark-haired Tuscan woman of about thirty, entered. The nasal twang of her speech stamped her at once as Livornese. She was good-looking, and, although ill-dressed, her drab skirt hung well, and her carriage had all the grace and suppleness of the South. For a moment she stood chatting to her husband, her visitor, and their companion, then turning down the smoking lamp, placed several chairs around the plain deal-topped table. "Gemma hasn't yet got used to London," she laughed, as she busied herself preparing for the mysterious consultation which had been arranged. "She pines for her lover, and thinks this place a trifle poor after the big hotel at Charing Cross." "No, no," Gemma protested. "I don't complain. I'm quite safe here. And I can wait." "For your lover?" the Gobbo laughed, in a dry, supercilious tone. "It is a new sensation for you to love. L'amore e la gioia, il reposo la felicita--eh?" Her clear eyes flashed upon him for an instant, but she did not reply. His words cut her to the quick. In that instant she thought of the man she adored, the man who was held aloof from her by reason of her secret. Presently, after some further conversation, the door bell rang, and Nenci's wife, who promptly answered the summons, admitted two well-dressed men, Romanelli and Malvano. The appearance of the latter was the signal for congratulations, Gemma alone holding aloof from them. She exchanged a glance with the Doctor, but he in an instant noticed its swift maliciousness, and remained silent. After some conventional chatter, in which the Gobbo cracked many grim jokes, all six took seats around the table. Nenci had previously assured himself that the shutters were closed, and that the doors both back and front were securely barred, when Malvano was the first to speak. "There are two of us absent," he observed. "I received a telegram from one an hour ago. He is in Berlin, and could not be back in time. He apologises." "It is accepted," they all exclaimed. "And the other cannot come for reasons you all know." Then Nenci, a stern, striking figure, rather wild-looking, with his black, bushy hair slightly curled, bent forward earnestly, and said--