“It is impossible that it can.”

“So others believed.  And where are they?  Further trouble would unhinge my mind, signor.”

“You have endured enough to make you speak so strongly, and your brave girl also.  But fear nothing whatever.  I am far too deeply concerned and committed on your behalf to add a drop to the bitter drink of the past, my dear Sir Walter.  I am as safe in that room as I should be at the altar steps of St. Peter’s.  Trust old Prince, if you cannot trust me.  I rely largely on your blind pet to aid me.  He has good work to do yet, faithful fellow.”

“The detectives took animals into the room, but they were not hurt,” said Lennox.

“Neither shall the dog be hurt.”

He patted the sleeping spaniel, and they rose and went into the house together.

Mannetti evidently assumed that his wishes were to be granted.

“I will go and sleep awhile,” he said.  “Until an early dinner, excuse me, and let Mrs. May and Mr. Lennox convince you, as they are themselves convinced.  These events have immensely excited my vitality.  I little guessed that, at the end of my days, a sensation so remarkable lay in store for me.  I must conserve my strength for to-night.  I am well—­very well—­and supported by the consciousness of coming triumph.  Such an achievement would have rewarded my long journey and these exertions, even had not your acquaintance been ample reward already.  I will, then, sleep until dinner-time, and so be replenished to play my part in a wonderful though melancholy romance.  Let us dine at seven, if you please.”

His excitement and natural levity strove with the gloomy facts.  He resembled a mourner at a funeral who experiences pleasant rather than painful emotions but continually reminds himself to behave in a manner appropriate to the occasion.

They sent for his man, and, on Stephano’s arm, the old gentleman withdrew.

He returned for a moment, however, and spoke again.

“You will do exactly as I wish and allow no human being to enter the Grey Room.  Keep the key in your pocket, Sir Walter; and do not go there yourself either.  It is still a trap of death for everybody else in the world but myself.”

CHAPTER XII

THE GOLDEN BULL

When Masters came to clear the tea, he found Sir Walter still unconvinced.

“What do you think of Signor Mannetti, Masters?” asked Henry; and the butler, who was a great reader of the newspapers, made answer.

“I think he’s a bit of a freak, Mr. Henry.  They tell me that old people can have a slice of monkey slipped into ’em nowadays—­to keep ’em going and make ’em young and lively again.  Well, I should say the gentleman had a whole monkey popped in somewhere.  I never see such another.  He’s got a tongue like a rat-trap, and he leaves you guessing every time.  He’s amazing clever; so’s his man.  That Stephano knows a thing or two!  He’s got round Jane Bond something disgraceful.  I never knew what was in Jane—­and her five and fifty if she’s an hour.”