“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. No, this was imbecile. It had been her father’s surname, and it had sounded far more innocuous and American than Iovelli. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. ” “There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?” “No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand.
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