“Oh! I’m an enemy—eh? Well,” he added, “I have always considered myself your friend.”
“Friend!” she echoed. “You show your friendliness in a rather curious manner. You conceive these dastardly plots, and then compel me to do your bidding—to act as your decoy!”
“Come, come,” he laughed, his temper quite unruffled by her accusation, “you know that in all my actions I am guided by your interests as well as my own.”
“I was certainly not aware of it,” she responded. “It cannot be to my interest that you compel me to meet you here like this, at the risk of discovery. Would it not have been better if our meeting had taken place in London, as before?”
“Necessity has driven me to make this appointment,” he responded. “To write to you is dangerous, and I wanted to give you warning so that you can place yourself in a position of security.”
“A warning!—of what?” she asked breathlessly.
“La Gioia is here.”
“La Gioia!” she gasped. “Here? Impossible!” La Gioia! It was the name I had found written upon the piece of paper beneath her pillow.
“Unfortunately, it is the truth,” he responded in an earnest voice. “The contretemps is serious.”
“Serious!” she cried in alarm. “Yes, it is serious; and through you I am thus placed in peril!”