"On Monday night!"
"And you saw--nothing," she said in a meaning tone.
"Yes!" I replied, lifting my head boldly, "I saw you receive Guiseppe Pallanza, and I saw you give him the poisoned cup!"
She gave a cry of rage like a trapped animal, and made a step forward, but restraining herself with a powerful effort, sank into a chair and leaned her elbow on the table. Dressed in heavy black garments of velvet and silk, she looked more like the Borgia than ever, and the ruby necklace she constantly wore flashed forth rays of red fire in the glimmer of the tremulous light.
"I understand now why you said Guiseppe Pallanza would not come back," she said with a scornful smile. "I thought last night you knew more than you told. Eh! Signor, and it was you who sang at the door of the Ezzelino."
"Yes, it was I."
"Meddlesome Englishman that you are, do you not fear that I will treat you as I treated that false one?"
"No! I mistrust your wine!"
"True, Signor Machiavella! forewarned is forearmed. So you came here to look for Pallanza?"
"I came to look for his body, Madame Morone, but I do not know where it is."