"Was Geronimo a gambler?" exclaimed Deodati, with ill-suppressed indignation.
"It is the custom at Antwerp to play for money, and often for considerable sums of money," continued Simon Turchi. "I never remarked that my friend Geronimo had a passion for play. However that may be, I could never discover to whom he had lost the amount, nor would he tell me how much it was. His melancholy and agitation were caused by the circumstance I have just mentioned. He was tortured by the certainty that his uncle would discover, upon examination, the loss of a large amount, which was not accounted for on the books. I proposed to advance him the deficit, but he absolutely refused, because he preferred to meet his uncle's just anger rather than deceive him."
This revelation was stunning to the old Deodati. Nothing could have more keenly wounded the honorable, high-toned nobleman than the thought that Geronimo had been so dishonest and ungrateful as to use the funds of the establishment in gambling.
Trembling with emotion, he asked:
"You say the sum is considerable. What is the amount?"
"I have no idea, signor. Perhaps you might discover it by an examination of the books."
There was a short silence. Mr. Van de Werve's eyes were fixed upon the ground. Signor Deodati passed his hand across his brow, and was absorbed in painful thoughts.
Simon watched for a few moments, with an inquisitive eye, the effect of this revelation upon his two companions, trying to penetrate their very souls. Then he said to Deodati:
"You look on the bad side of the affair, signor. If there were not a brighter, reverse side, I would have considered the confidence of my friend sacred, and guarded his secret until death. Up to this time we all feared, nay, considered it certain, that Geronimo had fallen under the assassin's steel. Now I begin to think that, in order to escape his uncle's anger, he has left the city and country."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve.