"Because Bellaria Dondi," the Italian started, "came to my rooms just before Mrs. Berch appeared to reclaim the cigarette-case. Bellaria was afraid when she saw the amulet, and staggered out of the room crying out: 'Tána! Tána!' I asked a friend what the word meant, and he told me it meant a den. Told me also, that he had heard of the society by that name in Naples. I guessed then from what Bellaria said, and from her terror, that the Tána Society wished to kill her." Venosta nodded and smiled amiably. "You are a clever young gentleman to piece things together so cleverly. Well, I have heard the name of Bellaria Dondi." "In connection with this murder?" asked Gerald, "or long ago, when she was a singer, and in love with Enrico Salviati?" Signor Venosta's brow grew dark, and he frowned fiercely. "Bellaria told you much," he said, striving to appear calm. "Much," assented Gerald easily, and not at all daunted by black looks, "but she did not tell me who had struck the blow, or who had given the information which led to the striking of the blow. She could not; she is dead, poor soul." Venosta eyed him coldly. "Then, and in spite of the verdict which accuses an English young lady of murder, you believe the Tána Society murdered Bellaria Dondi." "Did justice on her, let us say," remarked Gerald quietly; "that is the euphonious way in which you Italians put such things." "And you believe that I obtained the news of Bellaria's whereabouts from----" His eye wandered to Mrs. Crosbie. She sprang to her feet indignantly. "It is not true. I told you nothing of what my mother said; nothing of what she heard from Gerald. Say that I did not tell you? How could I, when I knew nothing? Had I known of this society, and your connection with it, I should not have made use of that coral hand to terrify the Jew." "I do not say that I am connected with the Tána Society, madam." "You gave me the trinket." "Which was given to me by a member of the society for use in emergencies, madam. I gave it to you to aid you out of friendship. That is all. He waved his large white hand. There is no more to be said." "Pardon me," said Gerald quickly, "there is this much to be said. How did you come to know of Bellaria's hiding-place, if Mrs. Crosbie----" "Madam here told me nothing," interrupted the Italian, silencing the little widow with a gesture. "Bellaria Dondi was a traitress, who deserved to be killed. Nevertheless, she hid herself so successfully that the Tána Society never knew where she was until the papers said that she had been found dead in Devonshire." "Did not an emissary of the Tána Society kill her?" asked Gerald, confounded. "No," said Venosta gravely. "Heaven punished Bellaria, not the Tána. She is dead--stabbed--but I do not know who struck the blow." He looked at Mrs. Crosbie, and at Gerald coldly, bowed slightly, and left the room. CHAPTER XX. A DARK MYSTERY.