pitch into anybody we should be quite equal to
the occasion. Don't you think so, V.?"

The night before, between seven and eight o'clock, Pedraglio had
happened to be on the road between Loveno and Menaggio. At the spot that
goes by the name of "Bertin's Cove" a man had begged of him, had pressed
a note into his hand, and had then walked rapidly away. The note ran as
follows: "Why does Carlino Pedraglio not go to Oria at once, to see
Signor Maironi and the lawyer from Varenna, and take a nice little walk
with his dear friends over beyond the stake?"

Ever since the arrest of his friend the doctor at Pellio, Pedraglio had
been expecting some sign from the police, and this note was not the
first timely and ungrammatical warning which had reached a patriot. The
note spoke plainly; he must pass the stake that marked the frontier
without delay. Pedraglio knew nothing of Franco's misfortune and return,
nor was he aware of the lawyer's presence in Oria. He did not stop to
speculate, however, but hastened to Loveno, provided himself with money,
and started off on foot. He would not risk going to Porlezza, but took
the path that from a spot near Tavordo rises upwards through a lonely
ravine to the Passo Stretto. As nimble as a chamois, he reached Oria in
four hours, and found Franco and the lawyer preparing to start, another
mysterious warning having reached them through the curate of Castello,
who had been to Porlezza, and had there been charged with the message,
in the confessional. Ismaele was to guide them across the frontier. The
passes of Boglia were very carefully guarded, and Ismaele proposed
passing between Monte della Neve and Castello; then they would drop down
into the valley, making straight for the Alpe di Castello below the
Sasso Grande, and from there descend to Cadro, an hour above Lugano.

But Ismaele was to have been there at two o'clock, and at half-past two
he had not yet appeared.

Luisa was also up. She was in the alcove-room mending a pair of Maria's
stockings, which she intended to place on the little bed, where she had
arranged all of the child's little garments with the same care as when
the little one was alive. She had not wished to see either the lawyer or
Pedraglio. After her intense excitement at the funeral her grief had
once more assumed that gloomy aspect which caused Dr. Aliprandi still
greater anxiety. She was no longer excited; she did not even speak, and
she had never yet wept. Her mann