drawing-room; and, strange to relate, it soothed me to think that it was
even possible we might be in the same town together.

For upward of an hour I remained in the balcony looking down at the
moonlit city and thinking of the change the last few days had brought
about in my life. When I once more sought my couch, scarcely five
minutes elapsed before I was wrapped in a heavy, dreamless sleep from
which I did not wake until well nigh nine o'clock. Much refreshed, I
dressed myself, and having swallowed a hasty breakfast, to which I
brought a better appetite than I had known for some days past, donned my
hat and left the hotel in search of Signor Angelotti, who, as the card
informed me, carried on his profession of a public letter-writer under
the arches of the San Carlo Theatre.

In all the years which have elapsed since Don Pedro de Toledo laid the
foundation of the magnificent thoroughfare which to-day bears his name,
I very much doubt if a man has made his way along it on a more curious
errand than I did that day. To begin with, I had yet to discover what
connection Angelotti could have with Monsieur Pharos, and then to find
out how far it was in his power to help me. Would he forsake his
business and lead me direct to the Egyptian's abode, or would he deny
any knowledge of the person in question and send me unsatisfied away?
Upon these points I resolved to satisfy myself without delay.

Of all the characteristic spots of Naples surely the point at which the
Via Roma joins the Piazza San Ferdinando, in which is situated the
theatre for which I was making, is the most remarkable. Here one is
permitted an opportunity of studying the life of the city under the most
favourable auspices. My mind, however, on this occasion was too much
occupied wondering what the upshot of my errand would be to have any
time to spare for the busy scene around me. Reaching the theatre I took
the card from my pocket and once more examined it. It was plain and
straightforward, like Sir George Legrath's own life, and, as I have
already said, warned me that I must look for this mysterious Angelotti,
who carried on the trade of a public letter-writer under the arches of
the famous theatre. As I glanced at the words "Public Letter-writer"
another scene rose before my mind's eye.

Several years before I had visited Naples with a number of friends,
among whom was a young American lady whose vivacity and capacity for fun
made her the life and sou