For a few moments she did not speak, but sobbed convulsively upon my breast. Then, suddenly holding her breath, she raised her tear-stained face to mine. At last, her love for me conquering all else, she said in a low whisper, as though fearful lest someone should overhear:
“Go to the little village of Feltham, near London, the next station to Twickenham, and find Cypress Cottage. You will discover the secret there.”
Feltham! It was the place mentioned by Wolf when I had listened to that conversation in the dingy little café at Batignolles.
“What is there?” I inquired quickly. “What secret does the cottage contain?”
“Have a care in approaching the place. Obtain the assistance of the police—surround it—search it—and see.”
“Is there sufficient evidence there to justify the spy’s arrest?”
“Certainly. Go and ascertain for yourself. I have betrayed their secret—that is enough. If their revenge falls upon me, then I am content to bear it, Gerald, for your sake. Tell me, however, that you have forgiven me all the past; that you will believe no word of any vile scandal that may be uttered against me by that pair of adventurers. Promise me,” she cried in deep earnestness.
“I will believe nothing without proof,” I answered, kissing her fondly. “I love you to-day, darling, just as passionately as I did when first we met long ago. I start for London by the Calais express at six to-night, and will at once follow your directions.”
“And Bertini, what of him?” she asked in alarm. “He is here, in Bordighera, for an evil purpose, without a doubt. If he knows, I shall be in deadly peril.”