“Who is this Mexican, Senhor Paola?” he asked.
“Frankly, I do not know. Not a conspirator, I am sure, and evidently not a royalist.”
“Then how came he to know of the existence of the ring?”
“A mystery, my dear Valcour. Have you yet identified the man this Mexican murdered?”
“Not yet.”
“I myself have not had a good look at the body. If you will take me to him I will endeavor to locate the fellow. It was doubtless he who murdered Madam Izabel.”
As he spoke he rose and walked quietly toward the door, as if he expected Valcour to follow. But the spy, suddenly suspicious, cast a shrewd glance at me and replied:
“One moment, Senhor Paola. I must satisfy myself that neither Harcliffe nor Piexoto has the ring, in order that I may report to the Emperor.”
“As you like,” returned the Minister, indifferently, and resumed his chair.
Valcour came straight to my side, thrust his hand within my pocket, and drew out the ring.