I stood for a little, triumphing in my own triumphant duplicity. The dog had thought to force my hand, and had only succeeded in betraying the pretentious emptiness of his own. He had discovered nothing of importance, for all his midnight craft; had no suspicion, even, of that most momentous betrayal of him by his own and nearest, or surely he would have intimated his knowledge of it to me. I ground my hands into one another, grinding my teeth. To what had I not been forced to listen, and, in appearance, to subscribe? A family understanding? No doubt, granting the hypothesis of my success on the score of it, _my_ blackmailing was to follow as a necessary consequence. It was defilement merely to have encountered him--aye, and countered him, too--with his own weapons. I felt as if I could never be entirely self-respecting again until I had come to terms about him with the hangman. With the thought, I turned, and with a guarded caution tiptoed into the kitchen. My eyes were expectant of the vision of other eyes, yellow and catlike, crouched near the boards; of a gathered catlike shape; of a claw of steel protruding from catlike folds. But there was nothing of the sort awaiting them. Geoletti was nowhere to be seen. But suddenly, even as I stood in indecision, the oddest sound greeted my ears. It was like the little sibilant yap of a dog in distressed dreaming; and it appeared to come from under the dresser. “Geoletti!” I whispered, amazed. He came crawling out on all fours, actually like an abject dog, and, when he reached me, rose up on his knees, fawning with both hands, and his eyes bright with madness. “Signore,” he urged hoarsely, “you not go in wiz him--my God! I say, you not go! Listen to wat I tell you. When two enter togezer, only won return. His smile on the face zat hide--what? His hand in his pocket zat hold--what? For you, so you follow him, zere shall be no smile never again--no face at all to smile wiz. Merciful God, signore! sink of her what wait you--the beautiful signora, and how on you depend her happiness. She sall die if evil come to you. Ecco! I know. Her state is not zat to endure it. Go back, signore! my God, go back!” He struggled with me, his voice full of an entreating frenzy. “Geoletti!” I cried, gripping him with force, “what is it? what is the matter with you? You heard and saw him. Was it not the man?” He only writhed the harder. “Signore, I see somsing--I hear somsing! But his eyes--my God! zey see everysing--his soul go into the deep places--zey look round the door when his voice spik, though he not move his body.” Quite suddenly he swayed and fell over. I don’t know whether or not he was seized with a sort of fit. He lay rigid and staring, and foam appeared on his lips. But in a minute it was over. He came to himself, sane once more, but dazed and for the moment quite helpless and exhausted.