'I wished to keep an eye on Mayne,' Valdini replied slowly.
'You were spying on me,' Carla snarled in Italian. 'Why were you spying on me?'
The corners of his eyes crinkled and his neat little figure was swelled out. He was enjoying himself. 'You think you can make the fool of me,' he said to her in English. His tone was violent. 'You think I have no pride. Once you were glad to say, Si, si, Signor Valdini. That was when I owned you and fifty girls like you. And when I permitted you to call me Stefan — how you were overcome with delight! I did not mind Stelben and all those others. That was business. But this is different. I do not trust you now.'
'You say Mayne was in Venice,' Engles said. 'What was he doing there?'
'Making love to Carla,' Valdini replied, and his lips were drawn back from his discoloured teeth in an expression of disgust.
Carla hit him then. She hit him with the back of her hand, and the big diamond ring blazed a trail of blood across his cheek.
But he caught her wrist and, with a quick stoop of his body, threw her over his shoulder. Her head hit the bar rail with a sickening thud. He rushed over to where she lay groaning and began to hack at her ribs with the pointed toe of his shoe. 'You leave me for a dirty little English deserter who does not care for anything but the gold,' he screamed at her in Italian. He was beside himself with rage, literally crying with anger. 'Why didn't you trust me? I would have found it for you. But now—'
Before any of us had begun to move, Mayne had crossed the room. He caught Valdini by the collar of his jacket, swung him round and hit him with his fist between the eyes. The Sicilian was flung back against the wall, where he slowly subsided like a sack. Mayne turned and faced us. His eyes were watchful and he had his right hand in the pocket of his jacket.
'Be careful now,' Engles whispered in my ear. 'The pot has boiled over and he's got a gun.' His voice was excited. He turned to Mayne. 'Those two Germans,' he said. 'Would their names be — Wilhelm Muller and Friedrich Mann?' He shot the names out like a prosecuting counsel making his final point in a murder trial.
And the effect on Mayne was noticeable. His face looked pinched and grey in that cold light and he kept nervous watch on the whole room.