able
while we talk a little."

She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, which terrified Settimia much more
than any dramatic display of anger or hatred could have done. In a few
moments the woman was bound hand and foot. Regina turned her upon her
side, and arranged a pillow under her head as she had promised to do.
Then she sat down upon the floor beside the pillow and looked at her
calmly.

"In this way we can talk," she said.

Settimia's rather stony eyes were wide with fear now, as she lay on her
side, watching Regina's face.

"I have always served you faithfully," she said. "I cannot understand
why you treat me so cruelly."

"Yes," Regina answered, unmoved, "you have been an excellent maid, and I
am sorry that I am obliged to tie you up like the calves that are taken
to the city on carts. Now tell me, where is Signor Corbario?"

"How should I know?" whined Settimia, evidently more frightened. "I
know nothing about Signor Corbario. I swear that I have hardly ever seen
him. How can I possibly know where he is? He is probably at his house,
at this hour."

"No. You know very well that he has left the villa. It will not serve to
tell lies, nor to say that you know nothing about him, for I am sure you
do. Now listen. I wish to persuade you with good words. You and Signor
Corbario were in South America together."

Settimia's face expressed abject terror.

"Never!" she cried, rocking her bound body sideways in an instinctive
attempt to emphasise her words by a gesture. "I swear before heaven, and
the saints, and the holy--"

"It is useless," Regina interrupted. "You have not forgotten what you
and he did in Salta ten years ago. You remember how suddenly Padilla
died, when 'Doctor' Corbario was attending him, and you were his nurse,
don't you?"

She fixed her eyes sternly on Settimia's, and the woman turned livid,
and ground her teeth.

"You are the devil!" she said hoarsely. "But it is all a lie!" she
cried, suddenly trying denial again. "I was never in South America,
never, never, never!"

"This is a lie," observed Regina, with perfect calm. "If you do not tell
me where Signor Corbario is to-night, I shall go to the police to-morrow
and tell all I know about you."

"You know nothing. What is all this that you are inventing? You are a
wicked woman!"

"Take care! Perhaps I am a wicked woman. Who knows! I am not a saint,
but you are not my confessor. It is the contrary, perhaps; and perhaps
you will have to