‘We will look at them together,’ said Tor; and he gave her his arm, and walked her off, unheeding Maud’s demure look of congratulation, and gentle pat on the back, as he passed her. ‘Well,’ he said, as they stood together in the warm summer night, ‘have you made out anything?’
‘That man is a spy!’ she answered with energy and decision. ‘Who and what he is besides, I have not yet made out; but he is a spy!’
‘I believe it; but what makes you so certain?’
‘I am certain because he has not got his story right. He is masquerading—pretending to be what he is not, and he is all confused as to his antecedents. Fancy being so stupid as to try and play a part without knowing exactly how to do it, and what to say—just like a man! Men are such clumsy creatures! One time he told me he had just come from Florence, from a Signor Something who gave him an introduction. Then he said another time he had been in Rome until he came here, and had travelled straight to England; and once he slipped out something which showed he had been in Germany quite lately; but he saw he had tripped that time, and tried to explain his words away—the very stupidest thing he could have done, of course. He didn’t know how many times he contradicted himself, but I kept count. Whoever that man is, he is playing a part, and he is a spy!’
CHAPTER XIII.
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS.
iss Marjory was convinced by the experiences gathered in a few hours’ time, that Tor’s position was growing distinctly awkward, and might easily become dangerous.
Signor Pagliadini was a spy—of that she was fully convinced; though what could be his motive for playing such a part, or who could have set him on to do it, still remained a mystery.