She tried to push by him, in order to get to her brougham, the door of which was held open by the powdered lackey who had been sitting beside the coachman.
Frank Amberley laid a firm, detaining grip on her wrist as she passed by.
“Madam Guiscardini,” he whispered in her ear, “you would consult your own interest in consenting to hear me. I come from Captain Paul Desfrayne, and I wish to ask you a few questions about Leonardo Gilardoni.”
This time the signora could not restrain the scream that rose to her lips. She stared wildly about her, and then at the enemy who had so suddenly sprung up before her.
The idea that he was a detective became almost a certainty. He had come to tax her with her double crime. She must be cool and quiet, she thought the next moment, and strive not to betray herself.
Whatever he had to say, however, must not be said before these prying, gossiping menials. With surprising quickness, she rallied her forces, resisted the inclination to swoon, and without answering her strange visitor, turned back to Finette.
“Put on your bonnet, girl, quick as lightning, and go to the opera-house,” she said to her maid. “Tell Mr. Mervyn that I was on my way to him, but was detained at the last moment, and that I shall not be able to sing to-night. Take this medical certificate with you.”
Finette took the paper, and flew up-stairs, glad of the chance of a pleasant drive, yet vexed that she could not stay to find out the mystery that was going on.
Madam Guiscardini turned to Frank Amberley.
“Follow me,” she said, in harsh accents.