Kirby smiled. In spite of Naida’s reverence for certain features of the cult, he had long suspected that her true feelings were those she had just expressed. And he was glad for this new bond of understanding between them. He glanced at her with understanding and perfect trust.
“Naida, since we have talked so frankly, there is one more thing which I must bring out.”
She looked up at him.
“What is it?”
“The Duca.”
She drew closer, her perfumed body brushing his, her great eyes caressing him.
“Naida, I am afraid of the man.”
“And so am I!” she confessed suddenly.
“It has all been too easy,” Kirby said in a slow voice. “There is no doubt whatever that our possession of the cylinder of gold has had great influence on the Duca, and yet—”