Ferrari gave a gasp, for she had thrust a small revolver into his hand, upon which his fingers unconsciously closed.
"I cannot do it myself," went on the temptress; "I dare not. They would find out who I was, and what I did. I bought this pistol to kill him to-night, but my heart failed me. No one will think it is you. Go! Go, if you love me, and kill him, I will be your wife--I will do what you wish--I will go where you like--only kill him! Kill him!"
It was no civilised woman who was thus planning a murder in such a cold-blooded manner. It was a savage, with all the blood-thirsty instincts of a barbaric race. All the European side of this woman's nature had vanished, and the primeval lust for blood dominated her entirely. Ferrari felt this horrible truth as her face, distorted with passion, pressed close to his own, and with a cry of fear thrust her away, dropped the pistol on the floor, and covered his face with his hands.
"Devil woman that you are! No!"
Mrs. Belswin whirled into the centre of the room like an enraged tigress.
"You won't do it?" she hissed madly. "You won't help me? I was right. You are a coward. Well, I will ask you no more--I will do it myself."
She picked up the pistol lying at his feet and turned to the door, but with a cry of horror he sprang in front of her, and prevented her exit.
"No, no! you are mad! You are mad! I will not let you go."
"Stand away! I will go."
"No, cara, think. Dio!"