Part 53 (1/2)
Vittoria led the girl toward her room, but outside the door Myra Nell paused, shaking in every limb.
”You--you love him?” asked the other woman.
The look which Miss Warren gave her stabbed like a knife, and when the girl had sunk to her knees beside the bed, with Blake's name upon her lips, Vittoria stood for a long moment gazing down upon her dazedly,
Later, when she had sent Myra Nell home and silence lay over the city, Norvin's nurse stole into the great front room where she had experienced so much of gladness and horror that night, and made her way wearily to the little image of the Virgin. She noted with a start that the candle was gone, so she lit a new one and, kneeling for many minutes, prayed earnestly for strength to do the right and to quench the leaping, dazzling flame which had been kindled in her heart.
XXII
A MISUNDERSTANDING
Several days later Vittoria Fabrizi led Bernie Dreux into the room where Norvin lay. The little man walked on tiptoe and wore an expression of such gloomy sympathy that Blake said:
”Please don't look so blamed pious; it makes me hurt all over.”
Bernie's features lightened faintly; he smiled in a manner bordering upon the natural.
”They wouldn't let me see you before. Lord! How you have frightened us!”
”My nurse won't let me talk.”
Blake's eyes rested with puzzled interrogation upon the girl, who maintained her most professional air as she smoothed his pillow and admonished him not to overtax himself. When she had disappeared noiselessly, he said:
”Well, you needn't put a rose in my hand yet awhile. Tell me what has happened? How is Myra Nell?”
”She's heartbroken, of course. She came here that first night; but the smell of drugs makes her sick.”
”I suppose Maruffi got away?”
Dreux straightened in his chair; his face flushed proudly; he put on at least an inch of stature. ”Haven't you heard?” he inquired, incredulously.
”How could I hear anything when I'm doctored by a deaf-mute and nursed by a divinity without a tongue?”
”Maruffi was captured that very night. Sure! Why, the whole country knows about it.” Again a look of mellow satisfaction glowed on the little man's face. ”My dear boy, you're a hero, of course, but--there-- are--others.”
”Who caught him?”
”I did.”
”_You!_” Norvin stared in open-mouthed amazement.
”That's what I said. I--me--Mr. Bernard Effingwell Dreux, the prominent cotillion leader, the second-hand dealer, the art critic and amateur detective. I unearthed the notorious and dreaded Sicilian desperado in his lair, and now he's cooling his heels in the parish prison along with his little friends.”
”Why--I'm astonished.”
”Naturally! I found him in Joe Poggi's house. Mr. Poggi also languishes in the bastille.”
”How in the world--”
”Well, it's quite a story, and it all happened through the woman--”