scrupulous accomplice, Tito
Moroni."

"Moroni is one of the most popular doctors in Florence," she remarked.

"I'm perfectly aware of that," was my reply. "But there is no more
dangerous criminal than the medical man who is beneath the thumb of a
millionaire. There have been several before the assizes in various
cities of Europe. Many, thanks alas! to the power of gold, have never
been unmasked. There have been cases in Hungary, in France, in Italy,
and in Russia--even one case in England which is recorded in a big
file at Scotland Yard. But in that case there was no prosecution
because money means influence, and influence means the breaking of
those in office who dare to oppose it."

"Then how do you suggest that I should act, Mr. Garfield?" asked young
Mrs. Cullerton. "It is distressing news to me that Mr. De Gex is my
enemy--and I confess that at present I can scarcely credit it."

I longed to unbosom myself to her--to tell her of all that had
occurred to me since that fateful November night when I had passed
through Stretton Street, but I was not yet fully confident concerning
her attitude towards me. It might be hostile. She might seek De Gex
when he returned from Algiers and tell him of our interview! If she
did, then all hope of elucidating the mystery of Gabrielle Engledue's
death would be at once swept away.

Yet I held before me the fact that the millionaire, hand-in-glove with
that scoundrelly Italian, intended to cast me into my grave. The
Italians have all through the centuries been experts in secret
assassination. The Doges of Venice, the Borgias, and the Medici have
all had secret poisoners in their pay. The gay, careless race which
laughs when the sun shines, are just the same to-day, after the war,
as they were in the days of His Holiness Rodrigo Borgia. To-day your
superstitious Italian criminal enters the church and prays to the
Madonna that his _coup_--whatever it may be, from profiteering,
picking pockets, or the secret assassination of an enemy--may be
successful.

"I allege that Mr. De Gex is your enemy, Mrs. Cullerton," I said. "I
have first-hand knowledge of it. Indeed, on the night of the ball at
the Villa Clementini, he had in his pocket the wherewithal to bring
upon you an illness which must inevitably prove fatal. He had a little
glass tube which he had ordered Moroni to prepare, but which the
doctor himself urged him not to break for fear of infecting himself
and his family."

She