eparture.
There was nothing to be gained by telling her the news, for she would
probably in her rash way go to Del Ferice's house herself, as she had
done once before, and on finding he was actually gone she would take
charge of his effects, whereby Temistocle would be the loser. As he
walked briskly away from the ruinous district near the Porta Maggiore,
and began to see the lights of the city gleaming before him, his courage
rose in his breast. He remembered how easily he had eluded the detectives
an hour and a half before, and he determined to cheat them again.

But he had reckoned unwisely. Before he had been gone ten minutes the two
men suspected, from the prolonged silence, that something was wrong, and
after searching the lodging perceived that the polite servant who had
offered them coffee had left the house without taking leave. One of the
two immediately drove to the house of his chief and asked for
instructions. The order to arrest the servant if he appeared again came
back at once. The consequence was that when Temistocle boldly opened
the door with a ready framed excuse for his absence, he was suddenly
pinioned by four strong arms, dragged into the sitting-room, and told to
hold his tongue in the name of the law. And that is the last that was
heard of Temistocle for some time. But when the day dawned the men
knew that Del Ferice had escaped them.

The affair had not been well managed. The Cardinal was a good detective,
but a bad policeman. In his haste he had made the mistake of ordering Del
Ferice to be arrested instantly and in his lodgings. Had the statesman
simply told the chief of police to secure Ugo as soon as possible without
any scandal, he could not have escaped. But the officer interpreted the
Cardinal's note to mean that Del Ferice was actually at his lodgings when
the order was given. The Cardinal was supposed to be omniscient by
his subordinates, and no one ever thought of giving any interpretation
not perfectly literal to his commands. Of course the Cardinal was at once
informed, and telegrams and mounted detectives were dispatched in all
directions. But Del Ferice's disguise was good, and when just after
sunrise a gendarme galloped into Tivoli, he did not suspect that the
travel-stained and pale-faced friar, who stood telling his beads before
the shrine just outside the Roman gate, was the political delinquent whom
he was sent to overtake.

Donna Tullia spent an anxious night. She sent dow