"I have found Belisario Cardi."
She paled; her eyes flamed.
"Yes—it's incredible." His voice shook. "I know the man well, that's the marvel of it. I've trusted him; I've rubbed shoulders with him; I went to him to-night to enlist his aid." He paused, realizing for the first time that the mystery of those letters was now deeper than ever. If Maruffi had not written them, who then? "He's the best and richest Italian in the city. God! The thing is appalling."
"He must go to justice," said Vittoria, quietly. "His name?"
"Caesar Maruffi!"
The girl's eager look faded into one of blank dismay.
"No!" she said, strangely. "No!"
"Do you know him?"
In a daze she nodded; then cast a hurried, frightened look over her shoulder.
"Madonna mia! Caesar Maruffi!" Disbelief and horror leaped into her eyes. "You are mad! Not Caesar. I do not believe it."