"I entertain no prejudice," I declared hotly. "But to tell you the truth, Antonio, I am tired of all this mystery, and now that Kirk and his friends have alienated me from my wife, I intend to take action." "In what manner?" he asked calmly. "I shall go to the Questore here, in Rome, and tell the truth. I happen to know him personally." "And you will mention my name!" he gasped, well knowing probably the drastic measures adopted by the police of his own country. "I shall not be able to avoid mentioning it," I responded, with a smile. "_Bene_!" he answered, in a hard, hoarse voice. "And if you did--well, signore, I can promise that you would never again see your signora alive. Go to the Questore now! Tell him all you know! Apply for my arrest! And then wait the disaster that must fall upon you, and upon your missing wife. An unseen hand struck Professor Greer--an unseen hand will most assuredly strike you, as swiftly, as unerringly." And then facing me defiantly, a grin upon his sinister face, the fellow added: "Silence, signore, is your only guarantee of safety--I assure you!" CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. ETHELWYNN SPEAKS. I looked into the closely-set, crafty eyes of the old Italian, and saw both determination and desperation. Was he the man who killed Professor Greer? "I require no guarantee of safety from you, Antonio," I answered quickly. "I am now solely in search of my wife. Where is she?" "Caro signore, I have no idea," was the old fellow's bland reply, as he exhibited his palms. "I have not the pleasure of the signora's acquaintance." "But you know where Kirk is hiding, and she is with him, assisting him in discovering my whereabouts, I believe!" I cried. "That the Signor Kirk crossed from Dover to Calais I am well aware, but of his movements afterwards I assure you I am in complete ignorance." What could I do further? He professed to be equally mystified with myself regarding my wife's disappearance, declaring his readiness and anxiety to assist me if it were possible. Then, in the falling twilight, we slowly descended the road together, he giving me his address in the Via Tordinona, a side street close to the Bridge of Sant' Angelo, which I noted on my shirt-cuff. At the Porto del Popolo we parted, and I returned to the hotel to dine with Gwen, whom I found awaiting me in feverish expectation. I told her briefly of my meeting with a man I knew, but explained nothing of his connection with the house in Sussex Place, nor of the secret tragedy that had been enacted. Next day was the fifth of February, the day of Santa Agata. How well I recollect it, for at noon we bade farewell to the Eternal City, and as the train roared on across those wide, dreary marshes of the Maremma on our journey northward, I sat in the corner of the compartment and made up my mind to go direct and seek Ethelwynn, the girl whom I had seen dead, and who was yet alive.