“I must save this poor girl at every cost,” he thought. “Whatever be her motive, she has placed herself in peril on my account.”
Just as the person came close to them, he turned round, evidently not observing them, and walked forward in the very direction from whence they had come.
As soon as he was out of sight, Fleetwood heard the Italian lady whisper,—“It is poor Paolo. He would rather aid than betray us; but, for his sake, while I have other means, I would not willingly employ him. He has suffered much for me, and I would not bring further vengeance on his head. Now go in and sleep till the morning.”
The door was carefully closed, and Fleetwood heard it locked after he entered the room, where his companions slept soundly.
Nina, mean time, hurried back to her tower, where she found little Mila sleeping on her couch. She awoke her with a kiss.
“Your task is nearly over for to-night,” she whispered, putting, at the same time, two keys into her hand. “Go, now, and lock me in, and return those keys whence you took them. I am grateful for your zeal, and you shall have your reward. Keep your own counsel as before; and no one will suspect you.”
Mila nodded, took up the keys, and slipped noiselessly back to the house tenanted by her grandfather.
Fleetwood tried to follow the example of his friends, but it was not till daylight broke that he closed his eyes in a deep slumber.
“Humph,” muttered old Vlacco, as he came into the room in the morning rubbing his eyes. “There was little use locking up these lazy Maltese, unless they are addicted to walking in their sleep. At all events they are honest, or they would not snore so loudly.”