“And the Englishman Macbean?”

“He is a mere fly in amber,” declared the Sicilian, with a sinister smile. “Fortune lies before us in Italy, my dear Jules—for you wealth and a wife; for me, office and distinction. By acting in accord we have nothing whatever to fear. Morini dare not disobey us, and Macbean, being a poor man, will easily fall into our power. Leave him entirely to me. I have a scheme by which he will shortly discover that his whole future depends upon his silence, and that a single indiscreet word will mean his ruin.”

“And if that fails?”

“Then there is still that effective method which was adopted towards Sazarac—you understand?”

The Frenchman nodded, darting a swift glance at the thin-featured man before him.

He understood too well.


Chapter Seven.

An Afternoon at Thornby.