"No one; I wished to join it."
"You are shilly-shallying with me," said the colonel, sharply; his patience was evidently beginning to give out. "No one can join a society by himself.
To whom did you communicate your wish to join it?"
Silence.
"Will you have the kindness to answer me?"
"Not when you ask questions of that kind."
Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability was taking possession of him.
He knew by this time that many arrests had been made in both Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of the extent of the calamity, he had already heard enough to put him into a fever of anxiety for the safety of Gemma and his other friends.
The studied politeness of the officers, the dull game of fencing and parrying, of insidious questions and evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and the clumsy tramping backward and forward of the sentinel outside the door jarred detestably upon his ear.
"Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni Bolla?" asked the colonel, after a little more bandying of words. "Just before you left Pisa, was it?"
"I know no one of that name."
"What!
Giovanni Bolla?
Surely you know him --a tall young fellow, closely shaven.
Why, he is one of your fellow-students."
"There are many students in the university whom I don't know."
"Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely!
Look, this is his handwriting.
You see, he knows you well enough."
The colonel carelessly handed him a paper headed:
"Protocol," and signed:
"Giovanni Bolla."
Glancing down it Arthur came upon his own name.
He looked up in surprise.
"Am I to read it?"
"Yes, you may as well; it concerns you."
He began to read, while the officers sat silently watching his face.
The document appeared to consist of depositions in answer to a long string of questions.
Evidently Bolla, too, must have been arrested.
The first depositions were of the usual stereotyped character; then followed a short account of Bolla's connection with the society, of the dissemination of prohibited literature in Leghorn, and of the students' meetings.
Next came
"Among those who joined us was a young Englishman, Arthur Burton, who belongs to one of the rich shipowning families."
The blood rushed into Arthur's face.
Bolla had betrayed him!
Bolla, who had taken upon himself the solemn duties of an initiator--Bolla, who had converted Gemma--who was in love with her!
He laid down the paper and stared at the floor.
"I hope that little document has refreshed your memory?" hinted the colonel politely.
Arthur shook his head.
"I know no one of that name," he repeated in a dull, hard voice. "There must be some mistake."
"Mistake?
Oh, nonsense!
Come, Mr. Burton, chivalry and quixotism are very fine things in their way; but there's no use in overdoing them.
It's an error all you young people fall into at first.
Come, think! What good is it for you to compromise yourself and spoil your prospects in life over a simple formality about a man that has betrayed you?
You see yourself, he wasn't so particular as to what he said about you."
A faint shade of something like mockery had crept into the colonel's voice.
Arthur looked up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his mind.
"It's a lie!" he cried out.
"It's a forgery!
I can see it in your face, you cowardly----You've got some prisoner there you want to compromise, or a trap you want to drag me into.