"I will tell you something that no one knows but myself, I have a friend among the Mafiosi, and it is he, not I, who has brought the murderers of Mr. Donnelly to an accounting."
"You know him?"
"Yes. At least I think I do."
"His—name?" She was staring at him oddly.
"I feel bound not to reveal it even to you. He has told me many things, among them that Belisario Cardi is alive, is here, and that it is he who worked all this evil."
"What has all this to do with me?" she inquired. "Have I not told you that I gave my search into other hands?"
"It was Cardi who killed—one whom we both loved, one for whose life I would have given my own; it was Cardi who destroyed my next-best friend, a simple soul who lived for nothing but his duty. Now he has threatened my life also—does that count for nothing with you?"
She leaned forward, searching his face earnestly. "You are a brave man.
You should go away where he cannot harm you."
"I would like very much to," he confessed, "but I am too great a coward to run away."
"And why do you tell me this?"