walked in front. The people parted to let the four men pass, and
then closed up and came after them. Not a word was spoken.

With pale lips and a fixed gaze which seemed to look at nobody, Rossi
walked to the end of the platform, and there the crush was greatest.

"Room!" cried the marshal of Carabineers, making for the gate at which a
porter was taking tickets. A black van stood outside.

Suddenly the marshal was struck on the shoulder by a hand out of the
crowd. He turned to defend himself, and was struck on the other side.
Then he tried to draw a weapon, but before he could do so he was thrown
to the ground. One of the two other Carabineers stooped to lift him up,
and the third laid hold of Rossi. At the next instant Rossi felt the
soldier's hand fall from his arm as by a sword cut, and somebody was
crying in his ear:

"Now's your time, sir. Leave this to me and fly."

It was Malatesta. Before Rossi fully knew what he was doing, he crossed
the lines to the opposite platform, passed through the barrier by means
of his Deputy's medal permitting him to travel on the railways, and
stepped into a coupe that stood waiting with an open door.

"Where to, signore?"

"Piazza Navona--_presto_."

As the carriage rattled across the end of the Piazza Margherita a
company of Carabineers was going at quick march towards the station.

III

At ten o'clock on Saturday night the screamers in the Piazza Navona were
crying the arrest of Rossi. The telegrams from the frontier gave an ugly
account of his capture. He was in disguise, and he made an effort to
deny himself, but thanks to the astuteness of the Carabineer charged
with the warrant the device was defeated, and he was now lodged in the
prison at Milan, where it was probable that he would remain some days.

Roma's feelings took a new turn. Her crushing self-reproach at the
degradation of David Rossi, fallen, lost, and in prison, gave way to an
intense bitterness against the Baron, successful, radiant, and
triumphant. She turned a bright light upon the incidents of the past
months and saw that the Baron was responsible for everything. He had
intimidated her. His intimidation had worked upon her conscience and
driven her to the confessional. The confessional had taken her to the
Pope, and the Pope in love and loyalty and fatal good faith had led her
to denounce her husband. It was a chain of damning circumstances, helped
out by the demon o