ushed Hillard into a seat,
and gave the final orders which were to take them out of the Villa
Ariadne for ever. He was genuinely moved over the visible misery of his
friend. He readily believed that Hillard's hurt was of the incurable
kind, and so long as memory lasted the full stab of the pain would
recur. So to get him away from the scene at once was the best possible
thing he could do. Merrihew noticed the little group of men collected at
the edge of the road, but he was too deeply absorbed in his own affairs
to stop and make inquiries. The principal thing was to reach Florence
without delay. He smoked two cigars and offered scarcely a dozen words
to Hillard. When they arrived at the white hotel in the Borgognissanti
and the night watchman drew the great bolts to admit them, Merrihew was
glad. And all this to evolve from an unknown woman singing under
Hillard's window but six months ago! And a princess! Truly the world was
full of surprises.

He went to bed, advising Hillard to do the same. Mental repose was
needed before they could sit down and discuss the affair rationally.

At nine in the morning Hillard heard a fist banging on the panels of the
door.

"Open, Jack; hurry!" cried Merrihew outside. There was great agitation
in his voice.

Hillard opened the door. "What's the trouble, Dan?" he asked.

Merrihew closed the door and whispered: "Dead!" As the light from the
window fell upon his face it disclosed pale cheeks and widely opened
eyes.

"Who?" Hillard's heart contracted. "In God's name, who?"

"The prince. They found him and his horse at the bottom of the gorge.
There was a broken place in the road, and over this they had gone. The
concierge says that there has been foul play. Tracks in the dust, a
strange cut in the neck of the horse, and a scabbard minus its saber.
Now, what the devil shall I do with the blamed sword?"

Dead! Hillard sat down on the edge of the bed. Dead! Then she was free,
free.

"What shall I do with it?" demanded Merrihew a second time.

"The sword? You really brought it?"

"Yes. And if they find us with it--"

"Put it in the bottom of the trunk and leave it there till you land in
New York. But the prince dead? You are sure?"

"All Florence is ringing with the story of the ball, the wind-up, and
the tragedy. He's dead, no doubt of it. Shall we go up to the villa this
morning?"

"No, Dan;" but all the weariness went out of Hillard's eyes.

And then Merrihew noticed. Hi