Something in Ravenna's manner compelled Barbara to pause and face him again.
"Princess, prepare yourself for a surprise. One whom we both thought dead now proves to be living."
Despite her loathing of the cardinal, Barbara found herself forced to utter one word,—
"Who?"
"One whose supposed demise caused you to say that you would forever carry a dead heart within your breast."
The princess gave a great start, and placed her hand upon her side. With a foreboding of what was to come she stood immovable, mute, scarcely breathing.
"Isola Sacra was certainly submerged. We both saw that. But ere it sank the captive must have escaped, for a young Englishman calling himself Paul Cressingham Woodville put up last evening at the Hôtel de Varsovie."
Barbara was powerless to speak, but the look in her eyes was a language that plainly said, "Is it the same?"
The cardinal understood her silent question.
"The same. For verification I sent to the Police Bureau where strangers register themselves. These little particulars on his carte de séjour leave no doubt on the matter."