The young officer caught the hands lying outstretched on either side the silent, rigid form, and felt for the pulse, his heart throbbing so violently as well-nigh to suffocate him.
With a groan of despair, he dropped the cold hands. Leonardo Gilardoni was dead.
One cruel touch had sent him from the world—one touch of those delicate waxen fingers he had loved so much and kissed with transport so often—one little stroke from the hand of the woman he had so fatally wasted his heart upon, the wife he had idolized, for whom he would have laid down his life willingly in the days of his fond, blind worship.
Only too truly did Paul Desfrayne now understand the meaning of that woman’s mysterious presence here. But why had she come—for what reason had she risked her very life—what advantage did she promise herself from this horrible deed? It was absolutely impossible she could have heard anything of the projected search for her brother. The only idea he could conjure up was that the Padre Josef was on his way back to Europe.
CHAPTER XXVI.
LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S DIAMOND RING.
Paul Desfrayne’s eyes had not deceived him. He had really and truly seen Lucia Guiscardini hurrying away from the scene of her murderous treachery.
A woman of insatiable ambition, she had resolved to let nothing stand in the way of her advancement to the highest dignities she could hope to reach.
Ignorant, ungovernable in her temper, resentful when any one crossed her path, or tried to hinder her from following her own fancies, she was at once resolute in planning schemes, and unscrupulous in carrying them out.
During her brief flight to Paris, on escaping what she felt would be a useless interview with Captain Desfrayne, she had reflected with all the force of her cunning brain as to the course she should take.