Instantly I again halted, and straining my eyes recognized that the man who was in evening dress was the owner of that palatial home.
They retired into the summer-house together. What, I wondered, was the object of that secret meeting?
It struck me that perhaps if I succeeded in approaching the spot I might overhear some of their confidential conversation, therefore I stole forward, always keeping in the shadow, and treading upon the grass, my eyes ever upon my goal.
The stillness of the night was unbroken, save by the harsh clanging of the convent bell down at San Domenico, and the howl of a distant dog, while ever and anon bursts of dance music from the villa reached my ears.
At last, by skirting a shrubbery in almost pitch darkness, and scratching my hands and face badly, I succeeded in gaining the rear of the little marble temple, and on hearing De Gex’s voice I drew back and waited, scarce daring to breathe. I could hear my own heart beat as I listened intently to certain words distinctly audible.
“Then you think he has suspicions—eh, Moroni? What you tell me is interesting, but also alarming.”
“I feel certain he has. He would not have consulted me for an imaginary ailment were it not so.”
“Then he must have seen her somewhere in Florence and recognized her! I was a fool to suggest that she should be brought here—so near to me! I was a fool to allow him to slip through my fingers!”
“I pointed that out to you at the time,” remarked the Italian doctor with a sigh. “But what you have just shown to me is amazing. I never dreamed of that!”