There was a pause, brief and painful. The men looked at one another deeply in earnest. At last Malvano spoke.
“I know well the conflicting interests in this matter. If we do our best for Italy, we do the worst for ourselves—eh?”
The Ambassador nodded. “My political enemies in Rome have, I fear, ingeniously plotted my downfall,” the Count replied in a low tone, as he pressed the other’s hand. “A single spark is only required to fire the mine. Then the Ministry will be overthrown, and the country must inevitably fall into the hand of the Socialists. Look what they have already done in Venice and in Milan. At the latter city they’ve closed La Scala, one of the finest theatres in the world; they’ve dissolved the dancing-school, and have done their worst in every direction. Venice has been revolutionised and now at every local election one reads, written with black paint upon the walls, ‘Down with the King and the robbers! Long live the Revolution!’ I’m a staunch supporter of law and order, a firm upholder of country and of King, therefore my days of office are numbered.”
“Not if we successfully solve this enigma.”
“Why? By doing so I shall defeat the plots of my enemies, and thus embitter them against me far more than before.”
“You fear La Gemma?”
His Excellency nodded.
“Why?”
“She knows too much.”
“So did Vittorina. She was silenced.”