“Mercy!  O my God!”

“He is dead!” said Geronimo.  “May thy soul receive my fraternal embrace in its passage to eternity!  May this mark of reconciliation weigh in the balance of eternal justice!”

He bent over the dead; but as if contact with the corpse had deprived him of his little remaining strength, he fell as it were lifeless.  Not a limb moved, his arms dropped motionless, his eyes closed, it seemed that his soul had also taken its flight to heaven to accompany the soul of Julio before God’s judgment seat.

CHAPTER XII.

IS IT HIS GHOST?—­THE GUILTY EXPOSED.

It was scarcely eight o’clock in the morning when Signor Deodati was on his way to the residence of Mr. Van de Werve.

The old merchant was walking very slowly, with his eyes cast down.  From time to time he shook his head, as if disturbed by painful thoughts.  His countenance expressed dissatisfaction rather than sorrow; indeed, it might even be said to indicate angry and bitter feelings.

The servant who opened the door ushered him into a parlor and went to call his master.  Deodati threw himself into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and was so absorbed in thought that he was not aware of Mr. Van de Werve’s entrance.

“Good morning, signor,” said the Flemish noble, saluting him.  “Your early visit encourages me to hope that you have news of our poor Geronimo.”

“Bad news, Mr. Van de Werve, bad news,” said the old man, with tearful eyes.  “Sit down near me, for I have not power to raise my voice.”

“I notice, signor, that you are very pale.  Are you ill?”

“My emotion has its origin in something worse than illness.  Day before yesterday Signor Turchi asserted in your presence that Geronimo had lost a considerable sum at play, and that he had fled the country to escape my just indignation.  Great as was my confidence in Turchi, I could not credit the truth of this revelation.  I determined to seek in my nephew’s accounts the marks of his ingratitude, or rather the proofs of his innocence.  I passed a portion of the night in calculating over and over again; for the invariable result was so frightful that my mind and heart refused to accept the evidence of my senses.  The sum lost in gambling by my nephew is incredible.”

“What!” exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, “then the Signor Turchi was not mistaken in his suspicions?”

“Ten thousand crowns!” said Deodati sighing.

“Ten thousand crowns!” replied Mr. Van de Werve.  “Impossible!  That is a fortune of itself.”