"I have noticed that these things
almost invariably kill the wrong person, when they kill anybody at
all, which is rare."
Volterra smiled, thanked him and returned the revolver to his pocket.
Malipieri had watched the two in silence. Fate had taken matters out
of his hands, and there was absolutely nothing to be done. In due
time, Sabina would come out with the Baroness, but he could not guess
what would happen then. Volterra would probably not speak out before
the detective, who would not recognize Sabina, even if he knew her by
sight. The Baroness would take care that he should not see the girl's
face, as both Volterra and Malipieri knew.
The three men sat down and waited in silence after the detective had
last spoken. Volterra lit a fresh cigar, and offered one to the
detective a few moments later. The latter took it with a bow and put
it into his pocket for a future occasion.
The door opened at last, and the Baroness entered, her face
discoloured to a blotchy yellowness by her suppressed anger. She stood
still a moment after she had come in, and glared at Malipieri. He and
the detective rose, but Volterra kept his seat.
"Were you right, my dear?" the latter enquired, looking at her.
"Yes," she answered in a thick voice, turning to him for an instant,
and then glaring at Malipieri again, as if she could hardly keep her
hands from him in her righteous anger.
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