"I am greatly embarrassed," replied Simon Turchi, shaking his head doubtfully; "my intention was to speak only to Signor Deodati of the affair; perhaps it would be indiscreet in me to reveal to you also, Mr. Van de Werve, a secret which, under different circumstances—"
"For the love of God, abandon these useless evasions!" said Signor Deodati, roused to a high pitch of excitement by his impatience. "Why should not Mr. Van de Werve know that which, in your opinion, would give us a clue to my nephew?"
"Since I am forced to speak," said Turchi, with a sigh, "approach and listen."
As soon as Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve had drawn their chairs nearer to him, Simon said in an undertone, as if he feared his words might be overheard:
"Have you not remarked, Mr. Van de Werve, that for some time past Geronimo has been disturbed and anxious; that even in the midst of cheerful conversation he appeared absent-minded; in a word, that some great trouble seemed weighing upon him?"
"I have noticed it," said Mr. Van de Werve.
"And you, Signor Deodati?"
"I have also remarked it. But what do you infer from this?"
"About a month ago I interrogated Geronimo as to the cause of his melancholy, and he informed me in confused, vague terms, that he had lost a considerable sum at play_."
"At play!" exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, overpowered by astonishment.