“Get her out,” I hissed at Miss Perkins. “I must talk to you.”
Galiana was not anxious to leave, but Miss Perkins rose nobly to the occasion. As soon as we were alone, I started talking. Miss Perkins listened without interrupting; only an occasionally sharp intake of breath betrayed the intensity of her interest.
“Did I do right to tell Piero?” I asked, finally. “I couldn’t think, I was too upset…If I have betrayed him…”
“No, no; an informer would have gone straight to the Captain. Furthermore, Francesca, logic suggests that Piero is one of the Falcon’s supporters. We have all been worried about you, ever since you failed to return from the village….”
“The groom,” I interrupted. “The boy who went with me—”
“He has disappeared. Kidnapped? Or perhaps—”
“Another of the Falcon’s supporters. It is possible. But never mind that. What were you saying about Piero?”
“I said that we were all alarmed about you, especially after De Merode arrived and told us the Falcon was in the area. He would not allow us to send men out to search for you, however. None of our servants was permitted to leave the grounds. So—how did Piero know you had been with the Falcon? He must be in secret communication with the rebels. I have long suspected that the Falcon has allies in the castle—”
“His friend said as much,” I agreed. “But Miss Perkins, if we are wrong…He is injured and alone in that dreadful place.”
Miss Perkins pressed me back against the pillow as I tried to rise.
“I hope you are not entertaining any notion of returning to the tomb,” she exclaimed. “It would be madness to try, Francesca; you will be watched, be sure of that. The die is cast in any case. Either Piero has spoken, or he has found a way to relieve our friend. Try to sleep now. You have done all you could; you have done nobly.”
“Sleep! How can I rest when I don’t know what is happening? I am half mad with worry.”
“I shall go down and join the others,” Miss Perkins said. “I promise to come at once and tell you if there is any news. You must stay here, Francesca; you are supposed to be prostrate. You have displayed admirable courage so far. Don’t fail now.”
After she had gone I did try to rest, but it was impossible. Whenever I closed my eyes the scenes of the past hours repeated themselves, flashing upon the blackness of my inner vision. Once again I saw the dirty cellar and the man who lay on the bed of straw; the shadowy valley and the eerie white rabbit; the mound of the princess’s tomb, the gaping entrance hole. Again I held the unconscious man’s head against my breast and felt his uneven breathing….
I flung the covers back and swung my feet out onto the floor. It was impossible to rest. I had to move about or lose my mind.
The luxurious elegance of my sitting room was an irritant instead of a source of comfort. The warmth, the candlelight, the soft carpets reminded me too painfully of the damp hole in which I had left the Falcon. I began walking up and down the room. But I had not walked for long when a sound stopped me in my tracks. I stared dumbfounded as the door of the big painted armoire began to swing out—and was caught by four small white fingers.
The truth dawned on me before I had time to imagine worse threats, and it roused me to tigerish action. In a single bound I reached the armoire and flung the door wide. Galiana had retreated behind a row of dresses, but I recognized her little black slippers and dragged her out with a ruthless hand.
“You are hurting me,” she exclaimed indignantly. “Let me go, Francesca!”
“I am tempted to strangle you,” I said, between clenched teeth. “How long have you been there? What did you hear?”
Her chin began to quiver. I relaxed my hold; but not because I was moved to pity. Quite the contrary.
“Sit down,” I said, pushing her into an armchair. “Galiana, you frightened me half to death. What a silly thing to do!”
She gave me a sidelong look and began rubbing her arms where my fingers had held her.
“Not so silly as what you did,” she muttered. “I was not in the armoire all the time, Francesca. I was listening at the door. I knew all along you were lying; I knew there was something you hadn’t told. And I was right!”
“You couldn’t have heard anything. We were whispering.”
“Yes, you talked too softly,” grumbled Galiana. “But—” Again came that sly sidelong look—“But Miss Perkins has quite a loud voice when she is excited. She was most excited, wasn’t she, when you proposed going back to the tomb?”
My heart sank. Miss Perkins had spoken vehemently then, and that single speech would have told a listener all she needed to know.
Galiana was not the most intelligent of women, but she was quick at intrigue. She was watching me closely, and she must have seen the consternation in my face—a tacit admission of the truth.
“You see, I do know,” she said triumphantly. “I suppose it was wrong to eavesdrop; but you are wrong, Francesca. to keep secrets from me when you know how interested I am. How long were you with him? Do tell me who he really is. Just think, he might be someone I know!”
Again I was faced with a terrible decision. It was impossible to convince Galiana that she was mistaken. The circumstances were too damning. And once she got an idea into her head, neither logic nor threats could get it out. I had to persuade her to keep silent. But how?
The horror of the situation almost overcame me. Of all the people to discover my secret. Galiana was probably the most dangerous. She was an inveterate gossip, and too shallow to understand the seriousness of the situation. Stefano and Miss Rhoda would have kept silent; even the Prince would betray his principles before he would betray his son. But Galiana…. There was only one way I could think of, only one appeal that might control her tongue.
“Yes, he is someone you know,” I said. And as she stared at me wide-eyed. I fell on my knees beside her chair and caught her plump little hands tightly in mine. “Galiana, it is Andrea. If De Merode finds out, Andrea will die; he will be hanged in the square at Parezzo, as Antonio almost was. And this time there will be no Falcon to rescue him. It is up to us—you and me—whether he lives or dies.”
Galiana’s eyes seemed to fill half her face. She had gone quite pale; there was no amusement on her soft mouth now.
“You are lying,” she gasped. “It can’t be.”
“You needn’t believe me.” I said. “Tell De Merode, if you wish; I can’t stop you. But if you do, Andrea’s blood will be on your hands.”
“No, no.” Her hands twisted in mine. I held them fast.
“Will you swear?” I asked. “Swear to keep silent?”
“It is true?” Her eyes searched my face. “Yes, I see you are not lying now. I can’t believe it. Francesca, do you think I would harm him? I would die rather than see him in danger! Is he hurt? Is he really in that horrible place? I must go to him, I must—”
“You must stay here and act a part, as you have never acted in your life! We must convince De Merode that we know nothing. Believe me, Andrea will be all right. Help has reached him by now. You can do nothing without endangering him; but you can save him by playing your part.”
As I watched in breathless suspense, her lips tightened and she nodded.
“I understand,” she said. “I promise. Francesca. you do trust me, don’t you? You know how I feel about…”
