"That is very strange," Lance murmured. "I am told that the trial in question was the talk of Europe for two or three years. I believe the papers were full of it at the time. And yet you don't seem to have heard of it. Isn't the name of Flavio familiar to you at all? It is not a common name."
As Lance spoke he saw a swift and subtle change pass over the face of his companion. A flame of colour stained either cheek; then it was gone, leaving her still more ghastly white than before.
"I have not told you quite the truth," the woman said; "but in twenty years one forgets even the keenest of sorrows. Now I come to think of it, the name of Flavio reminds me of one of the most unhappy experiences in my existence. There was a certain Count Flavio whose estates joined those of my father. For some generations there had been a deep and bitter feud existing between the Flavios and the Descartis. The head of the Flavios was a very old man, who had two sons. Not to make a long story of it, the young people met, and fell in love with each other: the young people on one side being my sister and myself. The intrigue was found out, of course, and for the next ten years I was practically a prisoner in my father's house. He had a gloomy old fortress somewhere up country, and there I was detained. I might have been there still had my parents lived."
"And your sister?" Lance asked. "What of her?"
Again the woman hesitated. Again the look of pain and suffering swept like a wave across her face.
"They told me my sister was dead," she murmured. "I had to take their word for it."
"And you believed it? You believe it still? I hope you will pardon me for my persistent questions, but it is quite necessary that I should put them. Do you feel quite convinced?"
Once more Mrs. Delahay hesitated. Once more she seemed to shrink as if in physical pain.
"How can I know? How can I tell?" she asked. "Did I not say that I had been a prisoner all those years? This would account for the fact that I know nothing about that Flavio tragedy. Are you going to tell me that it is one and the same family to whom my sister and myself were attached?"
"Indeed, I do," Lance went on. "Your Count Flavio had two sons. When he died his elder son came into the title and estates. That was the man who was afterwards poisoned by his wife; at least, a great many people think so. And his wife's name was Carlotta. Her surname was Descarti. My dear Mrs. Delahay, it is impossible to believe that this is a coincidence."