‘It’s terrible!’ Mrs. Melville breathed. ‘I am thankful they caught the assassin at least. Society ought to sleep better to-night for having him removed.’
‘Ah,’ said Sybert, ‘Society can’t be protected that way. The point is that he leaves others behind to do his work.’
‘The man was from Naples, you say?’ Mrs. Copley asked suddenly.
Her husband read her thoughts and smiled reassuringly. ‘So far as I have heard, my dear, there was no crucifix tattooed upon his breast.’
Marcia raised her head quickly. ‘Uncle Howard,’ she asked, ‘is that the mark of a society or of just that special man?’
‘I can’t say, I’m sure, Marcia,’ he returned with a laugh. ‘I suspect that it’s an original piece of blasphemy on his part, though it may belong to a cult.’
‘When is his time up?’ she persisted. ‘To get out of prison, I mean.’
‘I don’t know; I really haven’t figured it up. There are enough things to worry about without troubling over him.’
In her excitement over the King’s attempted assassination she had almost forgotten the man of the grotto, but her uncle’s careless laugh brought back her terror. The man might at that very moment be watching them from the ilex grove. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the open glass doors which led to the balcony. It was moonlight again. In contrast to the soft radiance of the marble-paved terrace, the ilex shadows were black with the sinister blackness of a pall. She looked down at her plate with a little shiver, and she sat through the rest of the meal in an agony of impatience to get up and move about.
Once she roused herself to listen to the conversation. They were talking of the soldiers; a large detachment of carabinieri had been stationed at Palestrina, and the mountain roads were being patrolled. The carriage that night had passed two men on horseback stationed at the turning where the road to Castel Vivalanti branches off from the Via Prænestina. Mrs. Copley said something about its giving them a feeling of security at the villa to have so many soldiers near, and Melville replied that whatever the crimes of the Italian government, it at least looked after the safety of its guests, Marcia listened with a sigh of relief, and she rose from the table with an almost easy mind. They all adjourned to the salon for coffee, and as soon as she could speak to her uncle without attracting attention she touched him on the arm.