"I know. I know!" she said hastily. "But earlier this evening you promised to tell me about Gabrielle. I must see her. She seems to have disappeared. Where is she?" "In London, I believe." "In London! Yet the last time you spoke of her you said she was in Turin, on her way here, to Florence." Oswald De Gex laughed lightly. "Yes. She came to Florence for a few days, but she has returned to London. Why are you so anxious to see her?" "I want to see her about a matter which concerns Jack and myself--that's all," replied young Mrs. Cullerton. "May I not know?" asked her host. "It is a purely private matter," was her reply. Then from the conversation that followed, it seemed as though the millionaire was apprehensive lest she should meet the mysterious Gabrielle, and I wondered whether it was in order to prevent them meeting that he entertained designs upon her life. I recollected that little glass tube which he was carrying in secret in his pocket, and which the scoundrelly Italian had urged him to refrain from using because he might place his own life in jeopardy. I listened to every word. De Gex was evidently most anxious to know why she sought Gabrielle so eagerly. And Gabrielle, I could only surmise, was the girl I had seen stark and dead in that handsome room in Stretton Street. That night of watchfulness had borne fruit. I had learnt from De Gex's own lips that another deep and subtle trap was to be laid for me--a trap baited with the tragic-faced girl herself. Further, I had established that he intended that, sooner or later, an accident should befall the dainty little woman in that rich ermine cloak, the woman with whom he was chatting so affably. Also I had learned her identity, and it now remained for me to forewarn her of what was intended. The rich Englishman had talked for about a quarter of an hour with Dorothy Cullerton, when at last they returned to the house, while I made my way in the darkness back to the gate. When I arrived, however, I found that Moroni had locked it after him. I was therefore compelled to climb the wrought ironwork, and after several unsuccessful attempts succeeded in regaining the road. It was long past midnight ere I found myself back in Fiesole, but I discovered a belated cab, and in it I drove back to Florence, full of grave reflections.