esole, but I
discovered a belated cab, and in it I drove back to Florence, full of
grave reflections.

On the following day I bought in the Via Tornabuoni an English
newspaper which publishes weekly a list of visitors to Florence, and
from it discovered that Mr. and Mrs. Cullerton were living at the
Villa Tassi, out at Montaguto, about three miles from the Porta
Romana, on the opposite side of Florence. That same morning I took the
steam tram from the Piazza della Signorina, and after three miles of
dusty road, alighted at a spot beyond the little village of Galluzzo
in the Val d'Ema. Crossing the brook I soon began to ascend the hill
of Montaguto--a pretty eminence clothed with cypresses and olives--and
was not long in discovering the neat, newly-built little villa, one of
a number which are let furnished each season to wealthy foreigners. I
noted as I passed that it was well-kept, that the garden was bright
with flowers, even though it was winter, and that in the garage was a
small light car which at the moment was being washed by an English
chauffeur.

I longed to have some excuse to call upon Mrs. Cullerton, but could
think of none. Therefore I returned to Florence and pursued fresh
tactics. The afternoon I spent making inquiries regarding the
Cullertons, and soon discovered that they were intimate friends of
Monsieur Rameil, the French Consul, and his wife.

With this knowledge I lost no time in obtaining an introduction to the
French Consul, and three days later received a card for one of
Madame's Friday afternoons. Naturally I went, and to my delight Mrs.
Cullerton was there also. She was a strikingly pretty young woman, and
apparently extremely popular, judging by the manner in which two or
three young Italian elegants danced attendance upon her. Shortly
before I left my hostess introduced me to her, and naturally I
endeavoured to make myself extremely agreeable. But was not the
situation a strange one? And this pretty woman had been marked down
for destruction by the mysterious millionaire, just as I had been!

Yet had I told anyone of the knowledge I had gained I would not have
been believed, any more than would credence have been given to the
story of my strange adventure in Stretton Street.

We chatted for perhaps ten minutes. She asked me where I was staying
and how long I should be in Florence, and then, expressing a hope that
we should meet again, I bowed and left her.

I had accomplished one step