"There has been great news to-night," he said, and led the way to the library.
The two men seated themselves at the table on which was strewn a few official-looking papers.
"Enrico is worse, Gaspar; I have just heard from the Palace that he may go at any time. The doctors wonder at his vitality."
"Yes, and there's another proverb, I believe, about it being hard to kill a weed--Enrico may laugh at the doctors yet. But," went on Dasso, "we must be in readiness. Miss Baxendale must be secured or silenced."
Lieutenant Mozara looked straight in the elder man's eyes.
"I have heard enough to know that. I have played the spy well," and the sallow face lit up with an evil grin. "I have suspected the facts for two days now."
"And what is more, they are waiting for the same signal as you are. When the guns at the Palace boom out the death--well--it'll be the devil take the hindmost."
Gabriel Dasso rose and paced nervously up and down the room, biting his moustache. It seemed to him that here was a grave danger, and he cursed the luck that had brought Miranda to life at the time when his plans seemed so prosperous--when success seemed assured. Then a thought occurred to him and he pulled up sharp before the man who was sitting drumming his fingers on the table.
"It seems to me, Gaspar, that you have taken up my cudgels very thoroughly. Your expression when you spoke of her Royal Highness wasn't a very pretty one. You don't like the lady, eh?"
"So. That's how the land lies. That accounts for your keeping your suspicions to yourself for two days. It seems to me," and his voice grew hard, "that Lieutenant Gaspar Mozara has had a fish of his own to fry."
"You can keep your taunts, Gabriel. I neither understand them nor appreciate them. I am with you in this matter, body and soul--does not that suffice?"
"It is everything, my dear boy. We won't quarrel. Hate is a good weapon. I hope you have not put the princess out of temper with you?"
"Miranda and I are the best of _friends_. I thought it better that we should be. We motor together to-morrow morning. Doesn't that suggest anything to you, Gabriel?"
"My dear Gaspar, it suggests so many things that I'm bewildered."
"Will the news of Enrico's relapse reach the town to-night?"