"I wish you would be more explicit, Miss Miller. If I can be of any service to you or assist you in any way, I shall be delighted. Really I don't like to hear you talk as you do. If you are in a quandary there must be some way out of it, and two heads, you know, are always better than one." She sighed, and raising her fine eyes to mine, replied:-- "Ah! I fear, Mr Leaf, that your kind assistance would be unavailing, although I thank you all the same. That man yonder held my life in his hand. One word from him would have saved me. But he refused, and before I could overtake him Death had claimed him." "He told me that he felt no regret in having to die," I said. "Of course not. Had he lived the truth would have been revealed, and he would have dragged out his remaining days in a convict prison. I know that truth--a strange and startling one--a truth which would assuredly amaze and astound you. But he is dead," she added, "and though he refused to give me back my honour and my life I will never seek a vendetta upon one whom the Avenger has already claimed--one whom God Himself has justly judged." And together we turned, and left the silent chamber wherein lay the remains of the man who was a mystery. CHAPTER FOUR. AROUSES CERTAIN SUSPICIONS. Sammy chanced to be out, therefore I conducted her to our cosy little sitting-room at the back of the house on the first floor, and after a few minutes she had so far recovered from the shock of seeing her dead enemy that she seated herself and allowed me to talk further to her. I told her of the request which Massari had made respecting his epitaph, and of his fearless encounter with death. "Naturally. He was unfortunate, and he wished to die," she said, quite coolly. "Had he lived he would only have fallen into disgrace and been placed in the criminal dock." "Towards me he was very pleasant, though not very talkative." "Ah! you have had a narrow escape," she said, with her dark eyes fixed upon me mysteriously. "A narrow escape? What of, pray? I don't understand you." "Of course not," she answered, smiling strangely. "Tell me more," I said eagerly. "This statement of yours is very puzzling, and has aroused my curiosity. Do you mean that Massari had some sinister design upon me?" She fixed her dark eyes upon me for a few moments, then said:-- "You were once, about three years ago, in Pisa--at the Minerva, I think?" I stood before her open-mouthed. What did this sweet-faced woman know regarding that closed page of my life's history? Mention of that hotel in the quiet old marble-built city where stands the wonderful Leaning Tower recalled to me a certain unsavoury incident that I would fain have forgotten, yet could never put from me its remembrance. "Well?" I asked at last, summoning all my strength to remain calm. "What of it?" She was silent for a moment, gazing straight into my eyes. "Something occurred there, did it not?" she said slowly. "And he knew of that?"