cannot laugh amidst
laughter, and it was congenial to him. He had always been alone, and he
felt that the world held no companion for him. There was satisfaction in
knowing that no one could ever guess what went on between his heart and
his head.

He wandered on with the same even, untiring stride, for a long time,
through the dark and winding ways, from the Pantheon through the old
city, through Piazza Paganica and Costaguti to Piazza Montanara, where
the carters and carriers congregate from the country. There, in the
middle of the three-cornered open space, a flag in the paving marked the
spot on which men used to be put to death. To-night even the carriers
were making merry. Griggs was thirsty, and paused at the door of a wine
shop. Though it was winter, men were sitting outside, for there was no
more room within. A flaring torch of pitched rope was stuck in an iron
ring, and shed an uncertain, smoky light upon the men's faces. A drawer
in an apron brought Griggs a glass, and he drank standing.

"It makes no difference," said a rough voice in the little crowd. "They
may cut off my head there on the paving-stone. They would do me a
favour. If I find him, I kill him. An evil death on him and all his
house!"

Griggs looked at the speaker without surprise, for he had often heard
such things said. He saw an iron-grey man in good peasant's clothes of
dark blue with broad silver buttons, a man with a true Roman face, a
small aquiline nose, and keen, dark eyes. He turned away, and began to
retrace his steps.

In half an hour he was at the door of the old Falcone inn, gone now like
many relics of that day. It stood in the Piazza of Saint Eustace near
the Pantheon, and in its time was the best of the old-fashioned
eating-houses. Griggs felt suddenly hungry. He had walked seven or eight
miles since he had left the party. He entered, and passed through the
crowded rooms below and up the narrow steps to a small upper chamber,
where he hoped to be alone. But there, also, every seat was taken.

To his surprise Dalrymple and Reanda were at the table furthest from
him, in earnest conversation, with a measure of wine between them.
Griggs had never seen the Italian there before, but the latter caught
sight of him as he stood in the door, and rose to his feet, making a
sign which meant that he was going away, and that the chair was vacant.
Griggs came forward, and looked into his face as they met. There was the
same gentle and hap