by imprisonment,
perhaps by banishment, but you thought it prudent to intervene. You
urged reasons of policy which were wise and far-seeing. I yielded, and,
to the bewilderment of my officials, I ordered the Deputy's release. But
he was not therefore to escape. You undertook his punishment. In a
subtle and more effectual way, you were to wipe out the injury he had
done, and requite him for his offence. The man was a mystery--you were
to find out all about him. He was suspected of intrigue--you were to
discover his conspiracies. Within a month, you were to deliver him into
my hands, and I was to know _the inmost secrets of his soul_."

It was with difficulty that Roma maintained her calmness while the Baron
was speaking, but she only shook a stray lock of hair from her forehead,
and sat silent.

"Well, the month is over. I have given you every opportunity to deal
with our friend as you thought best. Have you found out anything about
him?"

She put on a bold front and answered, "No."

"So your effort has failed?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you are likely to give up your plan of punishing the man for
defaming and degrading you?"

"I have given it up already."

"Strange! Very strange! Very unfortunate also, for we are at this moment
at a crisis when it is doubly important to the Government to possess the
information you set out to find. Still, your idea was a good one, and I
can never be sufficiently grateful to you for suggesting it. And
although _your_ efforts have failed, you need not be uneasy. You have
given us the clues by which _our_ efforts are succeeding, and you shall
yet punish the man who insulted you so publicly and so grossly."

"How is it possible for me to punish him?"

"By identifying David Rossi as one who was condemned in contumacy for
high treason sixteen years ago."

"That is ridiculous," she said. "Sixteen months ago I had never heard
the name of David Rossi."

The Baron stooped a little and said:

"Had you ever heard the name of David Leone?"

She dropped back in her chair, and again looked straight before her.

"Come, come, my child," said the Baron caressingly, and moving across
the room to look out of the window, he tapped her lightly on the
shoulder:

"I told you that Minghelli had returned from London."

"That forger!" she said hoarsely.

"No doubt! One who spends his life ferreting out crime is apt to have
the soul of a criminal. But civilisation needs its scavengers, and it