other's measure and noted the color of
the eyes. The man was an exceedingly handsome Italian, for all that a
scar ran from his check to his chin. It was all over in a moment; and
Hillard and Merrihew proceeded to the street.

"Handsome duffer," was Merrihew's comment. "But you never can tell a man
by his looks. Gaze on me, for instance. I'm a good example of handsome
is as handsome does." He was growing merry.

"Go home!" Hillard slapped him jovially on the shoulder.

"Home? Ah, yes! But shall I have a home to go to when I get back? You
have roped me in nicely. My poor little twenty-five hundred! But Swiss
champagne at a dollar-forty the quart! Well, every cloud has its lining.
Say, Jack, how much brighter the world looks after a magnum! And a funny
story's twice as funny. Good night. As for the Lady in the Fog, take the
cash and let the credit go. That's my motto."

As Hillard never received any answer to his personal, he discontinued
it. Truly, she had returned to the fog out of which she had come. But it
was no less difficult for him to take up the daily affairs again;
everything was so terribly prosaic now; the zest was gone from work and
play. Italy was the last resort; and the business of giving Merrihew a
personally conducted tour would occupy his mind. Always he was asking:
Who was she? What mystery veiled her? Whither had she gone? We never can
conjure up a complete likeness. Sometimes it is the eyes, again the
mouth and chin, or the turn of the throat; there is never any ensemble
of features and adornments. And as for Hillard, he really had nothing
definite to recall, unless it was the striking color of her hair or the
mellow smoothness of her voice. And could he really remember these? He
often wished that she had sung under any window but his.

Giovanni was delighted when he heard the news. He would go, too, and act
as valet to the signore and his friend till they put out for Rome. Then,
of course, he would be obliged to leave them. Occasionally Hillard would
reason with him regarding his deadly projects. But when a Latin declares
that he has seen through blood, persuasions, arguments, entreaties,
threats do not prevail. He comforted himself with the opinion, however,
that Giovanni's hunt would come to no successful end.

"You will surely fall into the hands of the police."

"What God wills comes true. But by this time they will have forgotten
me."

"But you have not forgotten."

"_Padre mio_, that