“Threats! And to prove to you that they are not in vain,” she said, “learn in the first place, that the police have discovered the identity of the Major, and that a warrant is already issued for his arrest.”
“I don’t believe it,” he cried. “You have no proof.”
“Inquire of your friends at the Embassy,” she replied ambiguously. “You will there learn the truth.”
“Listen!” he cried wildly, grasping her roughly by the wrist. “What allegation do you make against me? Come, speak!”
“You have shown yourself at enmity with me, therefore it will remain for you to discover that afterwards,” she answered, shaking him off. “One does not show one’s hand to one’s adversaries.”
“You mentioned the death of your friend Vittorina—well?”
“Well?” she repeated, still coldly and calmly. “It is of no use to further refer to that tragic circumstance, except to say that I am aware of the truth.”
“The truth!” he cried blankly. “Then who killed her?”
“You know well enough with what devilish ingenuity her young life was taken; how at the moment when she least expected danger she was cut off by a means so curious and with such swiftness as to baffle even the cleverest doctors in London. You know the truth, Signor Capitano—so do I.”
“You would explain how her life was taken; you would tell the world the strange secret by which she was held in bondage. But you shan’t,” he cried, standing before her with clenched fists. “By Heaven, you shan’t!”