rned to the palace the marketing began. A lame man in a blue
shirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar
across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very bad
Italian, asked for a drink of lemonade.

"You're not from these parts," said the woman who poured it out,
glancing up at him.

"No. I come from Corsica."

"Looking for work?"

"Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farm
near Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there's
plenty of work to be got there."

"I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts."

"They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are
coming to."

"Have you come over alone?"

"No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!"

Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his
pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which
he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he
looked his part to perfection.

They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistling
between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his
shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lameness
less observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important
directions had to be given.

"There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner," Michele whispered
suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the
horseman.

"Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?" he said, touching his
ragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signal
agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a
country squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse's
neck.

"What sort of work can you do, my man?"

The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.

"I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he began; and without any break
in his voice, went straight on: "At one in the morning at the mouth of
the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be
waiting inside the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----"

"That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out
before?"

"Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying
squadron. Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If
you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once---- I should
be very g