movements were considerably hampered as he stretched out his
hands rather wildly towards his adversary. The latter, who possessed
more moral than physical courage, moved his chair back and prepared to
make his escape, if Stefanone showed signs of coming round the table.

At that moment a tall figure darkened the door that opened upon the
street, and a quiet, dry voice spoke with a strong foreign accent. It
was Angus Dalrymple, returning from a botanizing expedition in the
hills, after being absent all day.

"That is a very uncomfortable way of fighting," he observed, as he stood
still in the doorway. "You cannot hit a man across a table broader than
your arm is long, Signor Stefano."

The effect of his words was instantaneous. Stefanone fell back into his
seat. The doctor's anxious and excited expression resolved itself
instantly into a polite smile.

"We were only playing," he said suavely. "A little discussion--a mere
jest. Our friend Stefanone was explaining something."

"If the table had been narrower, he would have explained you away
altogether," observed Dalrymple, coming forward.

He laid a tin box which he had with him upon the table, and shook hands
with Sor Tommaso. Then he slipped behind the table and sat down close to
his host, as a precautionary measure in case the play should be resumed.
Stefanone would have had a bad chance of being dangerous, if the
powerful Scotchman chose to hold him down. But the peasant seemed to
have become as suddenly peaceful as the doctor.

"It was nothing," said Stefanone, quietly enough, though his eyes were
bloodshot and glanced about the room in an unsettled way.

At that moment Annetta entered from a door leading to the staircase. Her
eyes were fixed on Dalrymple's face as she came forward, carrying a
polished brass lamp, with three burning wicks, which she placed upon the
table. Dalrymple looked up at her, and seeing her expression of inquiry,
slowly nodded. With a laugh which drew her long red-brown lips back from
her short white teeth, the girl produced a small flask and a glass,
which she had carried behind her and out of sight when she came in. She
set them before Dalrymple.

"I saw you coming," she said, and laughed again. "And then--it is always
the same. Half a 'foglietta' of the old, just for the appetite."

Sor Tommaso glanced at Stefanone in a meaning way, but the girl's father
affected not to see him. Dalrymple nodded his thanks, poured a few drops
of