"Now tell me, did you ever have any strange illness after Doctor Moroni had called?" I inquired very seriously. "Illness? Why, no! Why do you ask such a curious question?" "I have reasons for asking it, Mrs. Cullerton," was my reply. "I have called here as your friend, remember." "But all this is most bewildering," she exclaimed with a nervous little laugh. "Why should I be in any personal peril?" "Because you know something to the detriment of that wealthy and somewhat eccentric man," I replied. "Pardon me if I put another question to you. Are you acquainted with a girl named Gabrielle Engledue?" "Gabrielle Engledue?" she repeated. "No, I have never heard the name. I know a Gabrielle--Gabrielle Tennison--an old schoolfellow of mine." "A tall, dark-haired girl?" "Yes, she is rather tall, and dark-haired." "Isn't her real name Engledue?" I asked quickly. "Not to my knowledge." "Is she not Mr. De Gex's niece?" "He has no niece, has he?--except, of course, Lady Shalford, whom I know quite well." "Where is Gabrielle Tennison?" "In London--I believe." "Are you certain she is not here, in Florence?" "Mr. De Gex told me that she came to Florence for a few days----" "To visit him--eh?" "I suppose so. But she has returned to London." "Do you know her address in London," I asked very anxiously. "I ask you this in our mutual interests, Mrs. Cullerton," I added confidentially. "Yes. She lives with her mother in a maisonette in Longridge Road, Earl's Court, I forget the number, but you could easily find out." "And she is there now, I presume?" "I expect so--if what Mr. De Gex has told me is the truth." "But will he ever tell you the truth?" I queried. "Recollect that although he poses as your husband's friend, he is nevertheless your enemy--because he fears you! Why is that?" The pretty wife of the young London stockbroker hesitated. I saw that she was much perturbed by my question. "I suppose he suspects that I know certain things," was her low, hard reply. "But he has been very good to Jack on several occasions. He has prevented him from being hammered on the Stock Exchange, therefore I can only be grateful to him." I looked the pretty woman straight in the face, and said: "Grateful! Grateful to a man whose dastardly intention is, when the whim takes him, to send you to your grave, Mrs. Cullerton?" "I--I really don't know what you mean. Are you mad? Do be more explicit," she cried. "Why do you make these terrible allegations against Mr. De Gex?"