"Did this Italian Jew from Naples say anything?"
"No. He turned a dirty yellow, and nearly went on his knees. I told him that if he did not give me my way that he would get into trouble, and that I had brought the sign to show him. He yielded, and after our making terms he seemed glad to get rid of me."
"But you know----"
"I know nothing," she interrupted tartly, and returned to the tea-table, Haskins wondering if she was playing a part. Since she knew so much it seemed to him that she must know more. He tried the effect of a surprise. "Ah, the Jew was probably afraid of the Tána."
This time Mrs. Crosbie dropped the teapot, which clattered on the tray with a great noise. "The Tána Society?" she stammered, very pale.
"The Tána Society?" said a new and foreign-sounding voice at the same time, and Signor Venosta was shown into the room as the teapot fell.
'Mrs. Crosbie recovered herself with an effort. "Oh, signor, how are you to-day? Last time, Mr. Haskins--you know Mr. Haskins--found you with me, now you find him with me. How strange!"
She was talking for the sake of talking, as Gerald noted, for her face was livid and her bosom rose and fell stormily. The burly Italian, who looked perfectly self-controlled and composed, eyed Haskins, who bore his gaze without flinching. Neither man took notice of Mrs. Crosbie's chatter, and she sank again into her seat before the tea-table. "Won't you sit down also, you two?" she tittered nervously.
"You mentioned the Tána Society," said Venosta, turning on the little woman, "and to this young man."
"Pardon me. I mentioned it first to Mrs. Crosbie," said Haskins coolly.