“Yes,” he answered. “We had come face to face. He told me that, having been robbed of nearly all he possessed, he was determined to give information against her. She was, he told me, an associate of bad characters in Paris, and urged me to cut her acquaintance. His story was strange and rather romantic, for he gave me to understand that this woman had made a pretence of loving him, and had induced him to play here, in her house, and lose large sums to the men who were her accomplices. Personally, I was not very charmed with her,” Ernest went on, glancing at me. “She was evidently, as Thorne had declared, acquainted with many of the worst characters who frequent Monte Carlo, and I began to think seriously that my own reputation would be besmirched by being seen constantly in her company. Still, I tried to dissuade my friend from endeavoring to bring justice upon such a person, arguing that, having lost the money in a private gaming establishment, he had no remedy at law. But he was young and headstrong--possibly suffering from a fit of jealousy. After several days, however, fearing that he might create a scene with this notorious woman, I induced him to go over to Nice and stay at the Grand. While there, curiously enough, he met the lady who is here present, Miss Rosselli, and at once fell deeply in love with her.” “No,” I protested in quick indignation. “There was no love whatever between us. That I strongly deny.” “Carmela,” he said, addressing me with a calm, serious look, “in this affair I must speak plainly and openly. I myself have a confession to make.” “Of what?” “Listen, and I’ll explain everything.” Then, turning to the others, he went on: “Reginald fell violently in love with Miss Rosselli, not knowing that she had once been engaged to become my wife. When, the day after meeting her at the hotel, he told me of his infatuation and I explained the truth, he seemed considerably upset. ‘She loves you still,’ he said. ‘I feel certain that she does, for she has given me no encouragement.’ I affected to take no notice of his words, but to me the matter was a very painful one. I had broken off the engagement, it was true, but my heart was now filled with bitter remorse. I had seen Carmela again, all the old love had come back to me, and I now despised myself for my mean and unwarrantable action. We had met several times, but as strangers, and knowing her proud spirit I feared to approach her, feeling certain that she would never forgive.” “Forgive!” I cried. “I would have gladly forgiven.” “Carmela,” he said, turning again to me with a grave, serious expression, “I regret being compelled to lay bare my secret thus before you, but I must tell them everything.” “Yes,” I said. “Now that this woman is to bear the punishment of her crime, let us know all.” Then I added bitterly, “Speak, regardless of my feelings, or even of my presence.”