"Please recollect, Mrs. Cullerton, that I am here first in your interests, and secondly in my own. You and I are now both marked down as victims, because both of us are in possession of certain knowledge which would, if exposed, bring obloquy and prosecution upon an exceedingly wealthy man. Your husband, yourself, and myself, are merely pawns in the clever game which this man is playing--a mysterious game, I admit, and one in which he is actively assisted by Doctor Moroni--but also one in which, if we are not both very wary, we shall find ourselves the victims of fatal circumstances." My words seemed to impress the stockbroker's wife, for she asked: "Well--what shall I do?" "Be perfectly frank with me," I replied promptly. "Both of us have all to lose if we close our eyes to the conspiracy against us on the part of your friend De Gex and his shrewd and unscrupulous accomplice, Tito Moroni." "Moroni is one of the most popular doctors in Florence," she remarked. "I'm perfectly aware of that," was my reply. "But there is no more dangerous criminal than the medical man who is beneath the thumb of a millionaire. There have been several before the assizes in various cities of Europe. Many, thanks alas! to the power of gold, have never been unmasked. There have been cases in Hungary, in France, in Italy, and in Russia--even one case in England which is recorded in a big file at Scotland Yard. But in that case there was no prosecution because money means influence, and influence means the breaking of those in office who dare to oppose it." "Then how do you suggest that I should act, Mr. Garfield?" asked young Mrs. Cullerton. "It is distressing news to me that Mr. De Gex is my enemy--and I confess that at present I can scarcely credit it." I longed to unbosom myself to her--to tell her of all that had occurred to me since that fateful November night when I had passed through Stretton Street, but I was not yet fully confident concerning her attitude towards me. It might be hostile. She might seek De Gex when he returned from Algiers and tell him of our interview! If she did, then all hope of elucidating the mystery of Gabrielle Engledue's death would be at once swept away. Yet I held before me the fact that the millionaire, hand-in-glove with that scoundrelly Italian, intended to cast me into my grave. The Italians have all through the centuries been experts in secret assassination. The Doges of Venice, the Borgias, and the Medici have all had secret poisoners in their pay. The gay, careless race which laughs when the sun shines, are just the same to-day, after the war, as they were in the days of His Holiness Rodrigo Borgia. To-day your superstitious Italian criminal enters the church and prays to the Madonna that his _coup_--whatever it may be, from profiteering, picking pockets, or the secret assassination of an enemy--may be successful.