“No; don't waste time on that; I can draw enough from my account to last us for a bit. We will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to find you here, of course?” “Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then.” Half an hour after the appointed time he returned, and found Gemma and Martini sitting on the terrace together. He saw at once that their conversation had been a distressing one; the traces of agitation were visible in both of them, and Martini was unusually silent and glum. “Have you arranged everything?” she asked, looking up. “Yes; and I have brought you some money for the journey. The horse will be ready for me at the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night.” “Is not that rather late? You ought to get into San Lorenzo before the people are up in the morning.” “So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't want to leave here when there's a chance of anyone noticing me. I shan't go home any more; there's a spy watching at the door, and he thinks me in.” “How did you get out without his seeing you?” “Out of the kitchen window into the back garden and over the neighbour's orchard wall; that's what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I left the owner of the horse to sit in the study all the evening with the lamp lighted. When the spy sees the light in the window and a shadow on the blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing at home this evening.” “Then you will stay here till it is time to go to the barrier?” “Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any more to-night. Have a cigar, Martini? I know Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke.” “I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs and help Katie with the dinner.” When she had gone Martini got up and began to pace to and fro with his hands behind his back. The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out at the drizzling rain. “Rivarez!” Martini began, stopping in front of him, but keeping his eyes on the ground; “what sort of thing are you going to drag her into?” The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and blew away a long trail of smoke. “She has chosen for herself,” he said, “without compulsion on anyone's part.” “Yes, yes--I know. But tell me----” He stopped. “I will tell you anything I can.” “Well, then--I don't know much about the details of these affairs in the hills,--are you going to take her into any very serious danger?” “Do you want the truth?” “Yes.” “Then--yes.” Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped again. “I want to ask you another question. If you don't choose to answer it, you needn't, of course; but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are you in love with her?” The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on smoking in silence. “That means--that you don't choose to answer?” “No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that.” “Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?”