He slowly rose and walked away to the other side of the room. There was a moment's silence. “I have one thing to say,” he began in a hardly audible voice; “one thing--to tell you----” He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding his face in both hands. “You have been a long time deciding to be merciful,” she said softly. “I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I thought--at first--you wouldn't care----” “You don't think that now.” She waited a moment for him to speak and then crossed the room and stood beside him. “Tell me the truth at last,” she whispered. “Think, if you are killed and I not--I should have to go through all my life and never know--never be quite sure----” He took her hands and clasped them tightly. “If I am killed---- You see, when I went to South America---- Ah, Martini!” He broke away with a violent start and threw open the door of the room. Martini was rubbing his boots on the mat. “Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! You're an an-n-nimated chronometer, Martini. Is that the r-r-riding-cloak?” “Yes; and two or three other things. I have kept them as dry as I could, but it's pouring with rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride, I'm afraid.” “Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?” “Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed. I don't much wonder either, on such a villainous night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to have something hot before he goes out into the wet, or he will catch cold.” “It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil some milk.” She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching her teeth and hands to keep from breaking down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly had put on the riding-cloak and was fastening the leather gaiters which Martini had brought. He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up the broad-brimmed riding hat. “I think it's time to start, Martini; we must make a round before we go to the barrier, in case of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora; I shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless anything special turns up. Wait a minute; th-this is the address.” He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote a few words in pencil. “I have it already,” she said in a dull, quiet voice. “H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't let the door creak!” They crept softly downstairs. When the street door clicked behind them she went back into the room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had put into her hand. Underneath the address was written: “I will tell you everything there.” CHAPTER II.