Aldean, arranging his writing materials on a table at Olive's elbow, looked up. "I fear you will find that proverb doesn't apply to what is to come," said he cheerfully. "Mrs. Carson, as this lady may be called for the present, will question you sufficiently closely as to the various details of the conspiracy. You will answer her questions categorically while I write them down. The little précis will then be signed by you both and witnessed by myself." "And if we refuse this confession, as you call it," questioned Clara, who withal was obviously uneasy. "Oh, in that case, as I have told you before, I hand you over to the police. Now, then, come along; we have no time to waste on you. Begin." Jim dipped his pen into the ink and waited; while Olive, after a sharp glance at the two before her, launched into the examination. Reversing her previous attitude, she addressed herself exclusively to Boldini. She judged a studied indifference to be more effectual from woman to woman. "Who are you?" she asked. "I have told you that my father was an Italian named Boldini. My mother was an Englishwoman. I was brought up and educated in London." "Are you an Anarchist?" "Yes. I was affianced to the cause by my aunt, Mrs. Arne." "Oh, so Mrs. Arne is your aunt?" "My father's sister," explained Boldini, who was recovering his self-possession somewhat. "He was an Anarchist, but he is dead. My mother also is dead." "Is Major Semberry in Florence?" "No!" said Clara, loudly, before her accomplice could speak. "Useless to lie," said Aldean, looking up; "we followed him here from Victoria Station. Suppose you put your question in another form, Mrs. Carson?" "Where is Major Semberry staying?" amended Olive. "At the Albergo della Pace, on the Lung 'Arno," replied Boldini, seeing it was hopeless. "Have you seen him?" "Yes, once--this morning." "Have you known Major Semberry long?" "Since he came to England in the _Pharaoh_. I never met him before. But I had heard of him." "From whom?" "From Dr. Drabble and my aunt." "Is he an Anarchist?" "No; his connection with us has to do merely with this money." "You have the fifty thousand pounds in your possession?" "Yes; part of it is in Paris." "And where is the remainder?" Boldini wriggled uneasily and looked at Clara. She gave him no assistance, but kept her eyes fixedly on the floor. "I have the other part of it at my hotel in circular notes on the Crédit Lyonnais." "How many have you, and what is the value of each?" "I have twenty of one thousand pounds." "Twenty thousand," reckoned Olive. "Major Semberry's share, I presume?" she added, with unconcealed scorn. "Y-e-s," said Boldini, reluctantly, with another wriggle. "And the remaining thirty thousand is at the Crédit Lyonnais in Paris, you say?" "Yes. That is my share." "We will talk of the money later," she said. "By the way," with a glance at Boldini's hands, "I observe you have recovered the use of your hand."