“Can we not easily guess the reason?” the Doctor replied. “If you reflect upon the events of that memorable night, you will at once recognise that she should be prevented from coming to this country.”
“Yes. You are right,” Romanelli observed in a tone of conviction. “I see it all. We are in peril. Vittorina must not come.”
“Then the next point to consider is how we can prevent her,” the Doctor said.
A silence, deep and complete, fell between them. The trees rustled, the clock ticked slowly and solemnly, and the nightingale filled the air with its sweet note.
“The only way out of the difficulty that I can see is for me to hazard everything, return to Livorno, and endeavour by some means to compel her to remain in Italy.”
“But can you?”
Romanelli shrugged his shoulders. “There is a risk, of course, but I’ll do my best,” he answered. “If I fail—well, then the game’s up, and you must fly.”
“I would accompany you to Italy,” exclaimed the other, “but, as you are aware, beyond Modane the ground is too dangerous.”
“Do you think they suspect anything at the Embassy?”
“I cannot tell. I called the other day when in London, and found the Ambassador quite as cordial as usual.”