"I can tell you no more, Signorina, except that I do not believe Guiseppe left that room again. I believe he is there still, perhaps held captive by the robber who lured him thither in the hope of obtaining a ransom." Bianca looked at me searchingly. She was a simple little thing as a rule, but this ridiculous story I had manufactured of brigands in the heart of Verona was too much even for her confiding nature, and she made a gesture of disbelief. "It is not true! it is not true!" she cried vehemently. "Why do you deceive me, Signor?" "I am not deceiving you." "An enemy! a false letter! a deserted palace! held captive! Oh, I cannot believe it. If it is true, why did you not rescue him?" "Because some one I do not know seized me from behind as I watched, and, rendering me insensible with chloroform, bore me away from the palace. I had great difficulty in finding it again, I assure you." "Signor, your story is that of a dream. I cannot believe you." "It is true, nevertheless." Bianca said nothing, but tapped her little foot on the ground with a thoughtful frown on her small face. I was glad that my task was over, for absurd as was the story I had told her, it was more merciful than the truth. Now that I had to some extent quieted her fears by telling her that Guiseppe was alive--a thing, alas! that I could not be certain of myself--I hoped to get away at once to the Palazzo Morone and make one last effort to find his body. If I failed there would be nothing left for me to do but to inform the police, and in the interests of Bianca I was unwilling to do this until I had exhausted every means of solving the mystery myself. Suddenly Bianca's face cleared, and she looked at me with steady determination. "Signor, you know this palazzo?" "Yes, Signorina." "And this room where you think Guiseppe is held captive?" "I do, Signorina." "Then take me to it at once." She started to her feet with a deep flush on her face, and threw out her hands towards me with an appealing gesture. As for me, I sat still, transfixed with astonishment at the spirit displayed by this gentle girl, who was thus willing to dare the dangers, of the unknown in order to save her lover. "Take me to it at once!" she repeated quickly. "Signorina, I--I cannot. You are mad to think of such a thing." "Is your story true or false, Signor Hugo?" "True! yes, it is true!" "Then I will judge of its truth myself--with my own eyes. Wait, I will put on my hat, and you will take me to this palazzo at once." "Signorina----" "Not another word, I have made up my mind. You promised to be my friend, Signor Hugo. I hold you to that promise. Ecco!"