As I have already mentioned, a trap-door in the floor gave
access to this apartment. There was no other door.
When I entered Giannoli was sitting at his table with his face buried in
his hands, so deeply absorbed in his own reflections that for some seconds
he did not notice my advent. When at last I made my presence known to him
he gave a violent start, and, holding out both his hands, he wrung mine
for some moments in silence. Then he motioned me to the box; I seated
myself; once more he became silent; then, suddenly raising his head, he
looked me full in the face.
"Do you know why I wished to speak to you?" he asked; "can you guess? Oh,
it is no light matter, Isabel, which has led me to trouble you, no
pleasant matter either. I am on the brink of ruin, threatened and betrayed
by my most trusted friends. I must leave here at once, go right away from
London and England. My life is not safe here for another day." He spoke in
Italian, and as he grew more excited his voice rose higher and higher,
though every now and again he was minded to control it, as though fearing
he might be overheard. "Yes," he continued, "those men whom I have most
trusted, whom I have treated as my own brothers, with whom I have often
shared my last shilling and the very clothes off my back, have turned
against me. They are in league to destroy me. They are plotting against my
liberty and my life!" For some minutes he raved on in this style, every
now and again breaking off into curses, while I listened half horrified,
half incredulous.
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