"Let them allege whatever it pleases them; they cannot make my unjust
punishment greater than it is. You yourself know that the charge is an
unjust one--and my general knows that I would never betray Italy!"
"But to whom do you attribute this ingenious plot by which you have been
made the scapegoat of someone else's offence?" asked Mary, looking
straight into his deep-sunken eyes. "That the plans of the Tresenta as
well as the copy of the mobilisation scheme have reached the French
Intelligence Department is proved beyond doubt. Our secret service in
Paris has ascertained that."
"I have enemies--bitter ones," he answered in a strange tone, his eyes
fixed upon her. "They fear me, and have taken this course in order to
close my mouth--in order to prevent me making certain revelations that
would effect their ruin."
"But who are they?" she demanded. "The general has brought me here on
purpose to put this question to you. If we are aware of all the facts,
we may be able, after all, to rescue you from the horrors of Gorgona."
The pale-faced man shook his unkempt head sorrowfully, his lips pressed
together, his eyes upon hers.
"No. You can never secure my release," he declared, with despair.
"They dare not give me my liberty for their own sakes. Jules Dubard and
that Englishman George Macbean will take good care that I never come
forth to denounce them."
"George Macbean?" she gasped open-mouthed, all the colour fading from
her cheeks. "Do you know him? Is he actually one of those who is
responsible for this?"
For answer, the man behind the bars clenched his teeth and nodded in the
affirmative.