. The Baron and the Reverend Saul left next; and last of all came
Hawbury and Dacres. The latter was, if possible, more gloomy and
vengeful than ever. The visit of the Italian on the preceding evening
was fully believed by him to be a scheme of his wife's. Nor could any
amount of persuasion or vehement statement on Hawbury's part in any
way shake his belief.

"No," he would say, "you don't understand. Depend upon it, she got him
up there to feast her eyes on him. Depend upon it, she managed to get
some note from him, and pass one to him in return. He had only to run
it under the leaf of a table, or stick it inside of some book: no
doubt they have it all arranged, and pass their infernal love-letters
backward and forward. But I'll soon have a chance. My time is coming.
It's near, too. I'll have my vengeance; and then for all the wrongs of
all my life that demon of a woman shall pay me dear!"

To all of which Hawbury had nothing to say. He could say nothing; he
could do nothing. He could only stand by his friend, go with him, and
watch over him, hoping to avert the crisis which he dreaded, or, if it
did come, to lessen the danger of his friend.

The morning was clear and beautiful. The road wound among the hills.
The party went in the order above mentioned.

First, Girasole, on horseback.

Next, and two miles at least behind, came the two carriages with the
ladies and their maids.

Third, and half a mile behind these, came the Baron and the Reverend
Saul.

Last of all, and half a mile behind the Baron, came Hawbury and Scone
Dacres.

These last drove along at about this distance. The scenery around grew
grander, and the mountains higher. The road was smooth and well
constructed, and the carriage rolled along with an easy, comfortable
rumble.

They were driving up a slope which wound along the side of a hill. At
the top of the hill trees appeared on each side, and the road made a
sharp turn here.

Suddenly the report of a shot sounded ahead.

Then a scream.

"Good Lord! Dacres, did you hear that?" cried Hawbury. "The Baron was
right, after all."

The driver here tried to stop his horses, but Hawbury would not let
him.

"Have you a pistol, Dacres?"

"No."

"Get out!" he shouted to the driver; and, kicking him out of the seat,
he seized the reins himself, and drove the horses straight forward to
where the noise arose.

"It's the brigands, Dacres. The ladies are there."

"My wife! O God! my wife!" g