s a man from Tivoli, or Subiaco," he remarked presently. "He spoke
with that accent."

"I daresay," answered Dalrymple, who looked down into his glass at that
moment, so that his face was in shadow.

Just then four men who had occupied a table near the door rose and went
out. It was late, even for a night in Carnival.

"I hope they are not going to leave us all to ourselves," said
Dalrymple. "The place will be shut up, and we need at least two hours
more."

"At least," assented Paul Griggs. "But they expect to be open all night.
I think there is time."

The men at the other tables showed no signs of moving. They sat quietly
in their places, drinking steadily, by sips. Some of them were eating
roasted chestnuts, and all were talking more or less in low tones.
Occasionally one voice or another rose above the rest in an exclamation,
but instantly subsided again. Italians of that class are rarely noisy,
for though the Romans drink deep, they generally have strong heads, and
would be ashamed of growing excited over their wine.

The air was heavy, for several men were smoking strong cigars. The
vaulted chamber was lighted by a single large oil lamp with a reflector,
hung by a cord from the intersection of the cross-arches. The floor was
of glazed white tiles, and the single window had curtains of Turkey red.
It was all very clean and respectable and well kept, even at that
crowded season, but the air was heavy with wine and tobacco, and the
smell of cooked food,--a peculiar atmosphere in which the old-fashioned
Roman delighted to sit for hours on holidays.

Dalrymple looked about him, moving his pale blue eyes without turning
his head. The colour had deepened a little on his prominent cheek bones,
and his eyes were less bright than usual. But his red hair, growing
sandy with grey, was brushed smoothly back, and his evening dress was
unruffled. He and Griggs were so evidently gentlemen, that some of the
Italians at the other tables glanced at them occasionally in quiet
surprise, not that they should be there, but that they should remain so
long, and so constantly renew their order for another bottle of wine.

Giulio, the stout, dark drawer in a spotless jacket, moved about
silently and quickly. One of the Italians glanced at Griggs and
Dalrymple and then at the waiter, who also glanced at them quickly and
then shrugged his shoulders almost perceptibly. Dalrymple saw both
glances, and his eyes lighted up.

"I believe