“In that case I see no risk.”
“The only risk we run is in allowing young Garfield to make inquiries here, in Florence. When he saw me, I, of course, denied everything. But I know that he must have noticed how upset I was at his reappearance.”
“Well, we have decided to suppress him, have we not?” said Moroni briefly. “And now it is getting late and my taxi is awaiting me down in Fiesole. So I had better be going.”
“Have a care that the fellow does not meet her—not until you are quite prepared,” the millionaire urged. “And lose no time in making ready. Each day’s delay is increasingly dangerous.”
“I do not disregard the fact, signore,” replied the Italian, and next moment they emerged from the little Greek temple, and having walked a short distance, they parted, De Gex returning to the house, while Moroni made his way back past the lake to the gate.
When the mysterious millionaire had disappeared, I approached the broad terrace which ran along the side of the house from which such a wonderful panorama of the Apennines was to be obtained. If he brought his lady guest out, as was his intention, then he no doubt would descend from the terrace, for I saw two couples walking there as I approached.
Beneath a tree I took cover and waited—waited to establish the identity of the person whom he had marked down as his next victim.
That night I had gained much knowledge of intense interest, yet it all served to puzzle me the more.
That Tito Moroni was his accomplice I had established beyond doubt, and equally that there had been a grave and deep-laid conspiracy against me. And further, it seemed to be intended that I should again meet the mysterious pale-faced girl in black, and that the meeting was meant to be fatal to me.