This revelation was stunning to the old Deodati.  Nothing could have more keenly wounded the honorable, high-toned nobleman than the thought that Geronimo had been so dishonest and ungrateful as to use the funds of the establishment in gambling.

Trembling with emotion, he asked: 

“You say the sum is considerable.  What is the amount?”

“I have no idea, signor.  Perhaps you might discover it by an examination of the books.”

There was a short silence.  Mr. Van de Werve’s eyes were fixed upon the ground.  Signor Deodati passed his hand across his brow, and was absorbed in painful thoughts.

Simon watched for a few moments, with an inquisitive eye, the effect of this revelation upon his two companions, trying to penetrate their very souls.  Then he said to Deodati: 

“You look on the bad side of the affair, signor.  If there were not a brighter, reverse side, I would have considered the confidence of my friend sacred, and guarded his secret until death.  Up to this time we all feared, nay, considered it certain, that Geronimo had fallen under the assassin’s steel.  Now I begin to think that, in order to escape his uncle’s anger, he has left the city and country.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve.

“Impossible?” repeated Turchi, “he would have gone ere this, had I not persuaded him that he would obtain his uncle’s pardon.  Even on the day of your arrival, Signor Deodati, when Geronimo met me in the dock-yard on the bank of the Scheldt, he begged me to inquire for an English vessel which would leave on that or the next day, and secretly to engage his passage on board.  You may well know that I combated this foolish project, and I left him only when he promised me to abandon the idea.”

“Could he so lightly sacrifice my daughter’s love?” said Mr. Van de Werve.  “Were his expressions of affection for her only hypocrisy?  No, no; nothing can induce me to believe that.”

“His love was real,” replied Turchi, “and its very depth, perhaps, blinded his judgment.  He thought that the discovery of his losses at the gaming-table would inevitably deprive him of all hope of Mary’s hand.  My poor friend! he wished to fly from the fate which threatened him, that he might not witness the affliction of his beloved uncle.”

No one replied to Simon’s remarks, and he said, with hypocritical surprise: 

“How sad you both are!  You should rather rejoice at my revelation.  Is it not a happiness to think that Geronimo, although guilty of a fault, is still alive, and not to be forced to believe that he is forever lost to our affection by a frightful death?”

Old Deodati arose and said: 

“My friends, I must leave you; my mind is troubled; I am ill.  Besides, I wish to discover by the books the truth or falsity of Signor Turchi’s statement.  Do not attempt to detain me, I beg you.  Adieu!  May God guard you!”