“That is all I want,” she said quietly, “that you should speak.”

“Water,” moaned Settimia, turning her eyes to the glass.

Regina held up her head a little and set the tumbler to her lips, and she drank eagerly.  The fear of death is more parching than wound-fever or passion.

“Now you can surely talk a little,” Regina said.

“Why do you wish to know where he is?” Settimia asked in a weak voice.  “Are the police looking for him?  What has he done?  Why do you want me to betray him?”

“These are too many questions,” Regina answered.  “I have been told to make you tell where he is, and I will.  That is enough.”

“I do not know where he is.”

In an instant the point of the sharp little blade was pressing against the woman’s throat, harder and harder; one second more and it would pierce the skin and draw blood.

“Stop,” she screamed, with a convulsion of her whole body.  “He is in the house!”

CHAPTER XIX

With a single movement Regina was on her feet, for she had been taken by surprise, and her first instinct was to be ready for some new and unsuspected danger.  In a flash it seemed to her that since Corbario was in the house, he might very possibly enter suddenly and take Settimia’s defence.  Regina was not afraid of him, but she was only a woman after all, and Corbario was not a man to stop at trifles.  He was very likely armed, and would perhaps shoot her, in order to make good his escape with Settimia, unless, as was quite probable, he killed his old accomplice too, before leaving the room.

Regina stood still a moment, reflecting on the dangerous situation.  It certainly would not be safe to release Settimia yet; for if Corbario were really in the house, the two together could easily overpower one woman, though she was strong.

“I am sorry that I cannot untie you yet,” Regina said, and with a glance at the prostrate figure she took up her candle-stick, stuck her pin through her hair before the mirror, and went to the door.

She took the key from the lock, put it back on the outside, and turned it, and put it into her pocket when she had shut the door after her.  Then she slowly descended the stairs, stopping now and then to listen, and shading her candle with her hand so that she could see over it, for she expected to be attacked at any moment.  At the slightest sound she would have snatched her pin from her hair again, but she heard nothing, and went cautiously down till she reached the vestibule outside the sitting-room.  She entered the latter and sat down to think.