Again I fell to wondering whether the beautiful girl before me was actually the same person whose death I had certified to be due to heart disease, and who, according to the official records, had been cremated. She was very like--and yet? Well, the whole affair was a problem which each hour became more inscrutable. Still the fact remained that Gabrielle Tennison had disappeared suddenly on November the seventh, the night I had met with my amazing adventure. In reply to my further questions, as she sat staring blankly into my face with those great dark eyes of hers, I at last gathered that Doctor Moroni, hearing of her case from a specialist in Harley Street, to whom she had been taken by the police-surgeon, had called upon her mother, and had had a long interview with her. Afterwards he had called daily, and later Mrs. Tennison had allowed him to take her daughter to Florence to consult another specialist at the hospital of Santa Maria Nuova. "I think you know a Mrs. Cullerton," I remarked at last. The effect of my words upon her was almost electrical. "Dolly Cullerton!" she shrieked. "Ah! Don't mention that woman's name! Please do not mention her!" "I believed that she was a friend of yours," I said, much surprised. "Friend? No, enemy--a bitter enemy!" "Then you have quarrelled? She was once your friend--eh? Over what have you quarrelled?" "That is my own affair!" she snapped in apparent annoyance. "If you know her, don't trust her. I warn you!" Then she added: "She is a wicked woman." "And her husband, Jack?" "Ah! he's an excellent fellow--far too good for her!" "Why do you entertain such antipathy toward her?" I asked. "Do tell me, because it will make my inquiries so very much easier." "Inquiries? What inquiries are you making?" I was silent for a moment, then looking straight into her eyes, I replied very seriously: "I am making inquiries, Miss Tennison, into what happened to you during those days when you disappeared. I am seeking to bring punishment upon those who are responsible for your present condition." She shook her head mournfully, and a faint smile played about her lips. But she did not reply. "Tell me more about Mrs. Cullerton," I went on. "She was in Florence when you were there." "In Florence!" exclaimed the girl, as though amazed. "What could she be doing there?" "She was living in a furnished villa with her husband. And she went on several visits to Mr. De Gex who lives up at Fiesole. Are you quite sure you do not know him?" I asked. "He lives at the Villa Clementini. Have you ever been there? Does the Villa Clementini recall anything to you?" She was thoughtful for a few moments, and then said: "I seem to have heard of the villa, but in what connexion I do not recollect." "You are certain you do not know the owner of the villa?" I asked again, and described him once more very minutely. But alas! her mind seemed a perfect blank.