She had never before seen him pale; he was white round the lips now.
‘I beg your Excellency’s pardon,’ he said with a glibness that did not at all agree with his looks, ‘I came to see about some work that is to be done, and when you entered I hid myself in order not to disturb your Excellency’s devotions.’
The Countess held the small light higher and scrutinised his face thoughtfully.
‘You are not telling the truth,’ she said with great calmness. ‘What were you doing here?’
‘What I have told you, Signora Contessa,’ he answered stubbornly.
‘There is no work to be done here,’ returned Maria, her tone growing hard and clear. ‘The Count and I have talked of the chapel recently. If you do not at once tell me what brings you here, with no light at this hour, I shall go to the door and call.’
The chapel opened into the ante-chamber, of which the door was generally open to the outer hall, where a footman was always stationed.
‘Your Excellency is quite welcome,’ said Schmidt, and his coolness almost convinced Maria that he had told the truth.
Yet his face was very white and his eyes showed his inward fear.
‘Take care,’ Maria said. ‘The Count has told me how he forgave you once. I do not wish to ruin you, but unless you tell the truth I shall call some one. You have either taken the relic from under the altar or you came here to take it.’