Whilst speaking, he kept a look turned in the direction of the house from which Olga had come.  And of a sudden his eyes lit with fierce emotion.

“See!  Something told me! That is your friend!”

Piers Otway had come out.  Olga could not have recognised him at this distance, but she knew the Italian’s eyes would not be deceived.  Instantly she took to flight, along a cross-street leading eastward.  Florio kept at her side, and neither spoke until breathlessness stopped her as she entered Fitzroy Square.

“You are safe,” said her pursuer, or companion.  “He is gone the other way.  Ah! you are pale!  You are suffering!  Why did you run—­ run—­run?  There was no need.”

His voice had turned soothing, caressing; his eyes melted in compassion as they bent upon her.

“I have given you no right to hunt me like this,” said Olga, panting, timid, her look raised for a moment to his.

“I take the right,” he laughed musically.  “It is the right of the man who loves you.”

She cast a frightened glance about the square, which was almost deserted, and began to walk slowly on.

“Why was the door shut with the key?” asked Florio, his head near to hers.  “I thought I would break it open And I wish I had done so,” he added, suddenly fierce again.

“I have given you no right,” stammered Olga, who seemed to suffer under a sort of fascination, which dulled her mind.

“I take it!—­Has he a right?  Tell me that!  You are not good to me; you are not honest to me; you deceive—­deceive!  Why was the door shut with the key?  I am astonished!  I did not think this was done in England—­a lady—­a young lady!”

“Oh, what do you mean?” Olga exclaimed, with a face of misery.  “There was no harm.  It wasn’t I who wished it to be locked!”

Florio gazed at her long and searchingly, till the blood burned in her face.

“Enough!” he said with decision, waving his arm.  “I have learnt something.  One always learns something new in England.  The English are wonderful—­yes, they are wonderful. Basta! and addio!”

He raised his hat, turned, moved away.  As if drawn irresistibly, Olga followed.  Head down, arms hanging in the limpness of shame, she followed, but without drawing nearer.  At the corner of the square, Florio, as if accidentally, turned his head; in an instant, he stood before her.

“Then you do not wish good-bye?”

“You are very cruel!  How can I let you think such things?  You know it’s false!”

“But there must be explanation!”

“I can easily explain.  But not here—­one can’t talk in the street ——­”

“Naturally!—­Listen!  It is twelve o’clock.  You go home; you eat:  you repose.  At three o’clock, I pay you a visit.  Why not?  You said it yourself the other day, but I could not decide.  Now I have decided.  I pay you a visit; you receive me privately—­can you not?  We talk, and all is settled!”