"Alive!" he gasped, with a quick start which showed me that his surprise was genuine. "I--I really cannot believe you, Signor Holford! What proof have you? Why, both you and Kirk declared that she was dead!" "The proof I have is quite conclusive. Leonard Langton spoke to her on the telephone to Broadstairs, and he is now down there with her." "Impossible, signore!" declared the man, shaking his head dubiously. "When did you last see her?" "She was lying on the couch in the diningroom, as you saw, but at Kirk's orders she was removed from the house in a four-wheeled cab. I explained to the cabman that she was unwell, as she had unfortunately taken too much wine. Some man--a friend of Kirk's--went with her." "And what was their destination?" I demanded. "Ah, signore, I do not know." "Now, Antonio, please do not lie," I said reproachfully. "You know quite well that your master's daughter was removed to a certain house in Foley Street, Tottenham Court Road." "Why," he exclaimed, turning slightly pale, and staring at me, "how did you know that?" I laughed, refusing to satisfy his curiosity. In his excitement his accent had become more marked. "Well," he said at last, "what does it matter if the signorina is still alive, as you say? For my own part, I refuse to believe it until I see her in the flesh with my own eyes." "Well," I remarked, "all this is beside the mark, Antonio. I have understood from everyone that you were the devoted and trusted servant of Professor Greer, therefore you surely, as a man of honour, should endeavour to assist in clearing up the mystery, and bringing the real assassin to justice." The man sighed, saying: "I fear, signore, that will never be accomplished. The mystery has ramifications so wide that one cannot untangle its threads. But," he added, after a slight pause, "would you object to telling me how you first became acquainted with Signor Kirk?" Deeming it best to humour this man, who undoubtedly possessed certain secret knowledge, I briefly described the means by which Kirk had sought my friendship. And as I did so, I could see the slight smile at the corner of his tightened lips, a smile of satisfaction, it seemed, at the ingenious manner in which I had been misled by his friend. "Then he brought you to Sussex Place on purpose to show you the dead body of my master?" "He did. I had no desire to be mixed up in any such affair, only he begged me to stand his friend, at the same time protesting his innocence." "His innocence!" exclaimed the Italian fiercely between his clenched teeth. "You believe him guilty, then?" I cried, quick to notice his lapse of attitude. "Ah, no, signore," he responded, recovering himself the next second, a bland smile overspreading his dark, complex countenance. "You misunderstand me; I suspect nobody."