"

He broke off abruptly. He looked towards Arnold. He was breathing
heavily. His sudden fit of passion had brought an unwholesome flush
of color to his cheeks.

"Why should I stop?" Sabatini proceeded, mercilessly. "Let me remind
you of my sister's presence. Your lack of self-control is
inexcusable. One would imagine that you had committed some evil
deed, that you were indeed an offender against the law."

Again there was that tense silence. Starling looked around him with
the helpless air of a trapped animal. Arnold sat there, listening
and watching, completely fascinated. There was something which made
him shiver about the imperturbability, not only of Sabatini himself,
but of the woman who sat by his side.

Sabatini poured himself out a glass of wine deliberately.

"Who in the world," he demanded, "save a few unwholesome
sentimentalists, would consider the killing of Rosario a crime?"

Starling staggered to his feet. His cheeks now were ashen.

"You are mad!" he cried, pointing to Arnold.

"Not in the least," Sabatini proceeded calmly. "I am not accusing
you of having killed Rosario. In any case, it would have been a
perfectly reasonable and even commendable deed. One can scarcely
understand your agitation. If you are really accused of having been
concerned in that little contretemps, why, here is our friend Mr.
Arnold Chetwode, who was present. No doubt he will be able to give
evidence in your favor."

Arnold was speechless for a moment. Sabatini's manner was
incomprehensible. He spoke as one who alludes to some trivial
happening. Yet even his light words could not keep the shadow of
tragedy from the room. Even at that instant Arnold seemed suddenly
to see the flash of a hand through the glass-topped door, to hear
the hoarse cry of the stricken man.

"I saw nothing but the man's hand!" he muttered, in a voice which he
would scarcely have recognized as his own. "I saw his hand and his
arm only. He wore a red signet ring."

Sabatini inclined his head in an interested manner.

"A singular coincidence," he remarked, pleasantly. "My sister has
already told me of your observation. It certainly is a point in
favor of our friend Starling. It sounds like the badge of some
secret society, and not even the most ardent romanticist would
suspect our friend Starling here of belonging to anything of the
sort."

Starling had resumed his luncheon, and was making a great effort
at a show of indifference. Neverthele