llard still wore his evening clothes and
the bed was untouched.

"That's very foolish."

"Why? I couldn't have closed my eyes," replied Hillard.

"But won't she need you up there?" Merrihew was obviously troubled.

"If she needs me she'll send for me. But I am not needed, and she will
not send for me. I shall remain here and wait."

"He's dead. Things work out queerly, don't they?"

"She is free. Thank God!"

"You are not sorry, are you?"

"Sorry? In a way, yes. He was a blackleg, but it isn't pleasant to
contemplate the manner of his end."

"Well, I can frankly say that there's no such sentiment on my side. He'd
have cut you down if I hadn't stopped him," said Merrihew, rubbing his
swollen knuckles.

"It was measure for measure: I should have killed him had not you and
O'Mally interfered."

"That's true. But what's back of all this muddle? Why was she
masquerading as an opera singer, when fortune and place were under her
hand?"

"She has promised to write."

"By George!"

"What now?"

"Didn't Giovanni tell us that he had friends in Fiesole, and that he was
going to visit them?"

"Giovanni? I had forgotten. But what had my old valet against the
prince?"

"Giovanni had a daughter," said Merrihew. "His knife left a scar on the
man. The prince carried a long scar on his cheek. Two and two make
four."

"But Giovanni had promised us."

"If this man did not cross his path. It looks as if he did."

Hillard had nothing to offer. He simply began dressing in his
day-clothes, stopping at times and frowning at the walls. Merrihew
wisely refrained from adding any questions. He was human; he knew that
somewhere in Hillard's breast the fires of hope burned anew.

The day passed without additional news. But at night the last of the
American Comic Opera Company straggled into the hotel, plus various
pieces of luggage. O'Mally, verbose as ever, did all the talking and
vending of news.

"You wouldn't know her," he said, referring to La Signorina--for they
would always call her that. "When she heard of that duffer's death I
swear that she believed you had a hand in it. But when she heard that
the accident had occurred before you left the villa, she just collapsed.
Oh, there was a devil of a mess; police agents, _carabinieri_,
inspectors. It was a good thing that there were plenty of witnesses to
prove that the prince had called La Signorina his wife, or she would be
in jail this night, and we along with her.