’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. The swellings appeared under her arms and a general panic spread through the Palazzo. She trembled; but she did not know why. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. She glanced at him. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.
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