not wish him
ill. Simply detain him till I am out of sight."

This was not unreasonable. "It shall be as the little signorina wishes;"
and the _carabinieri_ laughed. It was some jest, and they would take
their part in it willingly.

Hillard resigned, and Bettina took to her heels. Her victory was a
permanent one, for the _carabinieri_ released Hillard only when they
knew it would be impossible for him to take up the pursuit. So, taking
his defeat philosophically, Hillard returned to Merrihew.

"Well, what was it?" asked Merrihew, scattering the doves.

"Did I ever tell you about Bettina?"

"Bettina? No."

"Well, she is the maid. The women we are looking for are here in Venice.
Now, what's on the program for the rest of the morning?"

Merrihew jammed his hands into his pockets. "Oh, let's go and take a
look at the saints. I'm in the mood for it."

So the two set out at the heels of the German tourists. They went
through the cathedral and the ducal palace, and when the bronze clock
beat out the noon hour Merrihew was bursting with information such as
would have filled any ordinary guide-book. He never dreamed that the
world held so many different kinds of stone or half so many saints. As
they started off for the hotel he declared that he would be willing to
give ten dollars for a good twenty-round fight, as a counter-irritant.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" cried Hillard.

"I know it. It's like caviar; the taste has to grow. I'm capable of only
a limited artistic education, Jack; so feed me slowly."

"You're in love."

"That's better than growing maudlin over a raft of saints who never did
me any good. Your Titians and your Veroneses are splendid; there's color
and life there. But these cross-eyed mosaics!" Merrihew threw up his
hands in protest.

Hillard let go his laughter. Merrihew was amusing, and his frankness in
regard to his lack of artistic temperament in nowise detracted from his
considerable accomplishments.

As they passed out of the quadrangle a man accosted them. It was
Giovanni, with a week's growth of beard on his face, his clothes ragged
and his shoes out at the toes. Swiftly he enjoined silence.

"Follow me," he said softly.

He led them through tortuous streets, over canal after canal, toward the
Campo San Angelo. He came to a stop before a dilapidated tenement and
signified that the journey was at an end. The three mounted the dusty
worn stairs of stone to the third landing