“La Gioia!” she gasped. “And he knows her?”
“I presume that, as a result of his inquiries, he has made this discovery. His shrewdness is something marvellous; he has succeeded in many cases where the cleverest detectives have utterly failed.”
“But how can he have found her?” she went on, greatly agitated by my statement.
“I have no idea. I only tell you this just as he made the announcement to me—without any explanation.”
She was silent, her eyes downcast. The ornament at her throat caught the light and glittered. My words had utterly upset her.
“I must tell Nora,” she said briefly, at last.
“But I presume that you know this person called La Gioia?” I remarked.
“Know her?” she gasped, looking up at me quickly. “Know her? How should I know her?”
“Because she visited you as a messenger from the friend whose name you refused to tell me.”
“I did not know it was her?” she declared wildly. “I cannot think that it was actually that woman.”