wascramped and cold.
But scarcely had she gone fifty yards when a dark figure came out of theshadows to meet her, uttering her name.
"Is it you, Pietro?" she asked quickly.
"_Si, signorina_," was the reassuring reply, in a voice which told thatits owner was a _contadino_, and not a gentleman.
Next second they were standing together.
"I received your message, Pietro," she said, "and I have kept theappointment, as you see."
The man for a few minutes did not reply. In the half-light, for themoon was now struggling through the clouds, the fact was revealed thatthe peasant was about forty, one of that pleasant-faced, debonair typeso frequently met with in Central Italy--a gay, careless fellow whomight possibly be a noted person in the little village of Borghetto.
He had taken off his hat at Lola's approach and stood bare-headed beforeher.
"You are silent," she said. "What has happened?"
"Nothing evil has happened, signorina," was his reply, for he spoke inthe distinctive dialect of Umbria, very different indeed to the politelanguage of Rome. "Only I am surprised--that is all."
"Surprised! Why?"
"I feared that the signorina would not be in Rome."
"Why?"
"Because I saw the Signor Enrico to-night, and he told me you had left."
"Enrico! He has not been here?"
"I saw him at eleven o'clock. He arrived from Firenze by the northexpress at half-past eight. He had come from far away--from Milano, Ithink."
"He has been at the signora's then?" asked Her Highness quickly.
"Yes--with the Signorina Velia. I was with him an hour ago."
"Did you tell him I should be here?"
"No; I feared to tell him, signorina."
"Good. Where is he now?"
"Still at the signora's."
"Then he does not know I am here?"
"No, signorina, he goes to Rome to-morrow." Lola was silent for a fewmoments. She was reflecting deeply.
"You say that Velia is here--eh? Then Enrico has come to see her, Isuppose?" she asked.
"I believe so. They met before at the house of old Madame Mortara's andagain to-night."
"_Benissimo_, Pietro. Now tell me, what have you found out?"
"Not very much, signorina, I regret to say. They are too wary, thesepeople. I know, however, they are watching your friend the Englishman.And they mean mischief, too."
"Watching Signor Waldron," she echoed in alarm. "Are you quite certainof that?"
"Absolutely."
"Who are watching?"
"Beppo and `The Thrush.'"
"That is Beppo Fiola and Gino Merlo--eh?" she remarked. "I thought Ginohad been arrested in Sarzana."
"So he was," replied the man, "but he escaped. He is wanted, but thepresent moment is not an exactly opportune one for his arrest,signorina."
"And they mean evil?"
"Decidedly. The Signor Waldron should be warned."
"How did you discover this, Pietro?" she asked, standing with him in thedeep shadow of a disused granary.
"Signorina, a man of my profession has various channels of information,"was his polite but rather ambiguous reply, his voice entirely altered,for he now spoke in an educated manner. Hitherto he had spoken in thedialect peculiar to the valley of the Tiber, but his last sentence wasthat of an educated man.
"Ah! I know, Signor Olivieri," she said; "you are a past-master in theart of disguise to come out here and live as a _contadino_."
"For the purpose of obtaining information every ruse is admissable,signorina. This is not the first occasion in my career by many when Ihave posed as a peasant."
"Curious that Signor Enrico is so friendly with Velia, is it not?" sheasked.
"Exactly my thought," replied Pietro Olivieri, the renowned privatedetective of Genoa, for such he was; "there is some devil's work afoot,but whether it is in connection with the matter we are investigating Icannot yet convince myself. As a field-labourer in madame's service Ihave been ever on the alert. Fortunately no one has yet suspected me--for this place is, as you well know, a veritable hot-bed of anarchy andcrime; a nest which contains some of the worst and most desperatecharacters in the whole of Italy. Therefore if I betrayed myself, Ifear I should not return to Rome alive."
"But have you no fear?" she asked anxiously. "Not while I exerciseordinary caution. Here, I am Pietro Bondi, a simple, hard-working_contadino_. I take my wine like a man. I gossip to the women, and Iinterfere with nobody. At first when I came here my presence arousedsuspicion, but that has, fortunately, now died down."
"You will watch Enrico?"
"Certainly."
"I wonder what his object is in returning here to Borghetto?"
"In order to meet Velia."
"He could have met her more easily in Rome."
"Not if it chanced to be against his interests to be seen in Rome.Remember he is well-known there."
"So you think he got off the train here instead of going on to thecapital?"
"Yes. To see the girl Velia who came here to-night--to meet him and theothers."
"The others?" she repeated inquiringly.
"Yes--`The Thrush' and the others."
"To form a plot against the Englishman?" she gasped.
"Exactly, signorina. The Signor Waldron should be warned at once. Willyou do so--or shall I send him an anonymous letter?"
"I will see him to-morrow; but--but what can I say without exposing thetruth. Come, Signor Pietro, you are a good one at inventing stories."
"Tell him the truth, signorina."
"No," she said, "that is impossible. I--I could never do that. I havereasons for concealing it--strong reasons."
"Then what do you propose doing? If you tell him he is in gravepersonal danger he will only laugh at you and take no heed of yourwarning. Englishmen never can understand our people."
"True, but--but really," she asked suddenly, "is there any greatdanger?"
"I tell you, signorina, that some conspiracy is afoot against yourfriend," replied the detective who, before entering business on his ownaccount, had been a well-known official at the Prefecture of Police inGenoa. His work lay in the north and he knew very little of Rome, andwas therefore unknown. "You requested me to assist you in this curiousinquiry, and I am doing so; yet the further I probe, the deeper and morecomplicated, I confess, becomes the problem."
"But you do not despair?" she cried anxiously.
"No. I am hoping ere long to see a ray of light through thisimpenetrable veil of mystery," he replied. "At present, however, allseems so utterly complicated. There is but one outstanding feature ofthe affair," he added, "and that is the attempt which will assuredly bemade upon the life of your friend."
"But why? With what motive?"
"They hold him in fear."
"For what reason?"
"Ah! that, signorina, I am as yet unable to say," was his quick reply."If I knew that then we might soon get upon a path which wouldundoubtedly lead us to the truth."
"We must crush the conspiracy at all hazards, Signor Olivieri," she saidquickly. "Remember that Signor Waldron is my friend--my dear friend."
"Then go to him and tell him the truth."
"Ah, no, I cannot!" she cried. "That is quite impossible."
"You know him, I do not," the detective said. "Could you not induce himto leave Italy, say for a few weeks? It would be safer. These men, Itell you frankly, are desperate characters. They will hesitate atnothing."
"But why should they attack an Englishman?" she asked.
"Because he knows--or they think he knows--some secret concerning them.That is my theory."
"And they intend to close his lips?"
The detective nodded.
"S-h-h-h," he whispered next second. "See yonder"--and he pointed downthe hill to where a light had suddenly shone. "Someone is coming acrossthe vineyard. Perhaps it is Signor Enrico--probably it is, I overheardhim say so
mething about catching the night mail to Rome. It is due intwenty minutes."
"_Addio_, then," she said hurriedly. "I will manage to warn SignorWaldron if, as you say, it is absolutely necessary," and, taking thepeasant's hand in farewell, she ran back to where her car was waiting,and was soon on the road again speeding back over the thirty odd mileswhich lay between that nest of bad characters and the Eternal City.
While she was hurrying away,
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