Simon glanced expressively at Mary, as if to convey the idea that her presence prevented him from complying with the old man’s request.

“Mary,” said Mr. Van de Werve, “I beg you to go to your room.  These varying emotions are more than you can bear; if I learn anything of interest, I will, my child, communicate it to you at once.”

The young girl rose without reply, but she glanced reproachfully at Simon Turchi.

“Do not blame me, Mary,” he said; “I am deeply grieved to cause you pain; only rest assured that what I do is caused by affection for Geronimo and yourself.”

Without noticing this excuse the young girl obeyed her father, and slowly left the room.

“Now,” said Mr. Van de Werve, “what is the secret you wish to impart to us?”

“I am greatly embarrassed,” replied Simon Turchi, shaking his head doubtfully; “my intention was to speak only to Signor Deodati of the affair; perhaps it would be indiscreet in me to reveal to you also, Mr. Van de Werve, a secret which, under different circumstances—­”

“For the love of God, abandon these useless evasions!” said Signor Deodati, roused to a high pitch of excitement by his impatience.  “Why should not Mr. Van de Werve know that which, in your opinion, would give us a clue to my nephew?”

“Since I am forced to speak,” said Turchi, with a sigh, “approach and listen.”

As soon as Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve had drawn their chairs nearer to him, Simon said in an undertone, as if he feared his words might be overheard: 

“Have you not remarked, Mr. Van de Werve, that for some time past Geronimo has been disturbed and anxious; that even in the midst of cheerful conversation he appeared absent-minded; in a word, that some great trouble seemed weighing upon him?”

“I have noticed it,” said Mr. Van de Werve.

“And you, Signor Deodati?”

“I have also remarked it.  But what do you infer from this?”

“About a month ago I interrogated Geronimo as to the cause of his melancholy, and he informed me in confused, vague terms, that he had lost a considerable sum at play_.”

“At play!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, overpowered by astonishment.

“Was Geronimo a gambler?” exclaimed Deodati, with ill-suppressed indignation.

“It is the custom at Antwerp to play for money, and often for considerable sums of money,” continued Simon Turchi.  “I never remarked that my friend Geronimo had a passion for play.  However that may be, I could never discover to whom he had lost the amount, nor would he tell me how much it was.  His melancholy and agitation were caused by the circumstance I have just mentioned.  He was tortured by the certainty that his uncle would discover, upon examination, the loss of a large amount, which was not accounted for on the books.  I proposed to advance him the deficit, but he absolutely refused, because he preferred to meet his uncle’s just anger rather than deceive him.”