ccompanying it with short sighs and
rollings of the eyes; after this she took a letter from her pocket and
offered it to him.

Franco read, shrugged his shoulders, and put the letter in his pocket.
Then as Signora Pasotti kept on recommending flight, flight--Lugano,
Lugano, in despairing pantomime, he smiled and reassured her by a
gesture. She once more seized his hands, and once more the lofty bonnet
(which had a tipsy inclination towards the right), and the long black
curls, trembled in earnest supplication. She strained her eyes wide,
pushed out her lips as far as possible, and laid her forefinger against
her nose to indicate silence. "With Pasotti also!" she said; and these
were the only words she spoke during the whole interview. Then she
trotted away.

Franco went upstairs again, thinking about his position. This might be a
false alarm, just as it might also be a serious matter. But why should
they arrest him? He tried to remember if he had anything of a
compromising nature in the house, and could recall nothing. It flashed
across his mind that his grandmother might have been guilty of some
perfidy, but he at once banished the thought, reproaching himself, and
postponed a decision until he should have spoken to his wife.

He returned to the little garden, where the Commissary, as soon as he
caught sight of him, asked him to point out the dahlias Signora Peppina
had been praising. Upon learning that they were in the kitchen-garden he
proposed going there with Franco. They could go alone, for indeed all
the others were ignorant on the subject of dahlias. Franco accepted.

The conduct of this little police-spy in gloves puzzled him, and he
sought to discover if it could in any way be connected with the
mysterious warning.

"Listen, Signor Maironi," the Commissary began resolutely, when Franco
had closed the gate of the kitchen-garden behind him. "I wish to say a
word to you."

Franco who was descending the few steps leading from the threshold of
the gate, stopped with a clouded brow. "Come here," the Commissary added
imperiously. "What I am about to do is perhaps not in accordance with my
duty, but I shall do it, notwithstanding. I am too good a friend of the
Marchesa, your grandmother, not to do it. You are in great danger."

"I?" Franco inquired, coldly. "In danger of what?"

Franco was endowed with a rapid and sure intuition of the thoughts of
others. The Commissary's words agreed perfectly with the messa