“Was her veil down?”

“Not then.  I saw her lower it later, and, as I think, for reasons I will presently put before you.  Madame has a beautiful face, and I gazed at it with sympathy, grieving for her, in fact, in such a trying situation; when suddenly I saw a great and remarkable change come over it.”

“Of what character?”

“It was a look of horror, disgust, surprise,—­a little perhaps of all three; I could not quite say which, it faded so quickly and was followed by a cold, deathlike pallor.  Then almost immediately she lowered her veil.”

“Could you form any explanation for what you saw in her face?  What caused it?”

“Something unexpected, I believe, some shock, or the sight of something shocking.  That was how it struck me, and so forcibly that I turned to look over my shoulder, expecting to find the reason there.  And it was.”

“That reason—?”

“Was the entrance of the Italian, who came just behind me.  I am certain of this; he almost told me so himself, not in words, but the mistakable leer he gave her in reply.  It was wicked, sardonic, devilish, and proved beyond doubt that there was some secret, some guilty secret perhaps, between them.”

“And was that all?” cried both the Judge and M. Flocon in a breath, leaning forward in their eagerness to hear more.

“For the moment, yes.  But I was made so interested, so suspicious by this, that I watched the Italian closely, awaiting, expecting further developments.  They were long in coming; indeed, I am only at the end now.”

“Explain, pray, as quickly as possible, and in your own words.”

“It was like this, monsieur.  When we were all seated, I looked round, and did not at first see our Italian.  At last I discovered he had taken a back seat, through modesty perhaps, or to be out of observation—­how was I to know?  He sat in the shadow by a door, that, in fact, which leads into this room.  He was thus in the background, rather out of the way, but I could see his eyes glittering in that far-off corner, and they were turned in our direction, always fixed upon the lady, you understand.  She was next me, the whole time.

“Then, as you will remember, monsieur, you called us in one by one, and I, with M. Lafolay, was the first to appear before you.  When I returned to the outer room, the Italian was still staring, but not so fixedly or continuously, at the lady.  From time to time his eyes wandered towards a table near which he sat, and which was just in the gangway or passage by which people must pass into your presence.

“There was some reason for this, I felt sure, although I did not understand it immediately.

“Presently I got at the hidden meaning There was a small piece of paper, rolled up or crumpled up into a ball, lying upon this table, and the Italian wished, nay, was desperately anxious, to call the lady’s attention to it.  If I had had any doubt of this, it was quite removed after the man had gone into the inner room.  As he left us, he turned his head over his shoulder significantly and nodded very slightly, but still perceptibly, at the ball of paper.