“Ah! I don’t suppose my domestic affairs can possess any interest for you, madam. It is merely a piece of egotistical gossip to inform you that I have taken Leonardo Gilardoni into my service.”
“Into your service?”
The words were pronounced slowly, with obvious difficulty, and in a husky voice.
Paul Desfrayne did not evidence, by the slightest sign, any triumph at the effect his unexpected shot had produced, but silently watched her face.
“Why—why have you done so? I mean, why do you tell me of it?”
“I cannot help having an idea that you knew something of the poor fellow at one time, though he has slipped from your memory,” Captain Desfrayne said, very calmly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Has he said—has he said——”
She could not continue; the effort at control was too great.
It was impossible to tell how much this quiet, now half-smiling, man before her might know of the terror that haunted her day and night.
“Has he said what?” demanded Paul Desfrayne, looking her steadily in the face.