o
see his daughter while she lived--requiescat!"

"And I say that I am not joking. Do you wish to hear the truth? Well.
You have much confidence with Sor Paolo. Tell him that the father of the
poor Signora Gloria came to the door and asked questions. You shall hear
what he will say. He will say that it is possible. Then he will ask you
about him. You will tell him, so and so--a very tall signore, all made
of pieces that swing loosely when he walks, with a beard like the Moses
of the fountain, and hard blue eyes that strike you like two balls from
a gun, and hair that is neither red nor white, and a bony face like an
old horse."

"It is true," said the cobbler, reflectively. "It is he. It is his
picture."

"You will also say that he is now an English lord, but that formerly
they called him Sor Angoscia. You, who are friends with Sor Paolo, you
should tell him this. It may be that Sor Angoscia wishes him evil. Who
knows? In this world the combinations are so many!"

It was long before the cobbler got an opportunity of speaking with
Griggs, and when he had the chance, he forgot all about it, though
Stefanone reminded him of it from time to time. But when he at last
spoke of the matter he was surprised to find that Stefanone had been
quite right, as Griggs admitted without the least hesitation. He told
Stefanone so, and the peasant was satisfied, though he had long been
positive that he had found his man at last, and recognized him in spite
of his beard and his age.

After that Stefanone haunted the Piazza di Spagna in the morning,
talking a little with the models who used to stand there in their
mountain costumes to be hired by painters in the days when pictures of
them were the fashion. Many of them came from the neighbourhood of
Subiaco, and knew Stefanone by sight. When Lord Redin came out of the
hotel, as he generally did between eleven and twelve if the day were
fine, Stefanone put his pipe out, stuck it into his breeches' pocket
with his brass-handled clasp-knife, and strolled away a hundred yards
behind his enemy.

If Lord Redin noticed him once or twice, it was merely to observe that
men still came to Rome wearing the old-fashioned dress of the
respectable peasants. Being naturally fearless, and at present wholly
unsuspicious, it never struck him that any one could be dogging his
footsteps whenever he went out of his hotel. In the evening he went out
very little and then generally in a carriage. Two or thre