"Not by a long shot. We'll have the gun loaded—all ready for use. If the Signor gets ugly we'll shoot—that's all. Not a word, do you hear. Leave everything to me. Come, let's go back or they'll think something's wrong."
In the ballroom, they were still dancing the quadrille, the pretty gowns of the girls and black coats of the men making a picturesque sight as they blended in the ever changing figures.
The gayety was at its height when the maid entered and whispered in her ear:
"There's a gentleman downstairs."
Helen looked at the girl in surprise.
"A gentleman? What's his name?"
"I don't know, m'm. He wouldn't say."
"Very well, I'll go down."
Slipping away unobserved, Helen made her way downstairs and throwing back the heavy tapestry portières entered the drawing room which was almost in complete darkness. The maid had forgotten to switch on the electrolier and as the only light came from the distant dining-room, the big parlor was practically all in gloom. Before her eyes had become quite accustomed to the dark, a man advanced out of the shadow. It was Signor Keralio.
She recognized him instantly and instinctively she shrank back, alarmed. How had he dared come again to her house after what had occurred? He noticed the movement and asked: