“So you yourself have scaled the castle wall to seek your love,” he said. “Did they try to hold you from him?”
“It is worse than you can think, Dmitri. To-night when I returned there was no one in the apartment. I called up Ogden Ward; do you know him?”
Dmitri’s level eyebrows contracted at the name. He eyed her oddly, remembering Griffeth’s words that the banker had been her patron.
“I know him; what then?”
“He was stabbed in my apartment a little while ago,” she whispered. “I sent for him to come so that I might pay him back the money he had advanced for three years. I offered him some jewels that belonged to my grandmother. He laughed at me when we were alone, and said I had ruined my career by singing in the opera and had broken my word to him by meeting Griffeth and caring for him. I offered him the rubies—”
Dmitri bent over her suddenly.
“Rubies?” he repeated quickly. “What were they?”
“They belonged to Margherita Paoli, my grandmother. He had seen me wear them at the fête, and told me on the way home he wanted to buy them. But when I offered them to him, he—he refused. We were alone and I tried to fight him off. The lamp crashed to the floor and I felt his arms close about me; then I fainted.”
Dmitri watched the long green curtains at the bedroom door. They were motionless, yet he crossed over and parted them casually to glance within.
“So,” he said in relief. “And then? Do not hurry.”