can towards the frontier. There is not the slightest chance of catching
them. You must say that you have sent the young lady to the country for
her health.'

At this Pignaver made a dramatic gesture. He raised both his hands on
each side of his head, clenched his fingers, turned up his eyes, and
pretended to be trembling with almost uncontrollable fury. The Signor
knew his weakness and looked on with quiet amusement.

'I will have the city thoroughly searched during the next few days for
two persons resembling your niece and the woman,' he continued. 'But if
they have already fled, and if you insist upon finding them, you will
have to employ private agents.'

'Yes, yes,' answered Pignaver thoughtfully. 'That will be best. Can you
recommend any person to undertake such a delicate business, sir? I
suppose that, in your position, you are acquainted at least with the
names of some such men.'

The Signor, who was an amiable man, smiled pleasantly now.

'The truth is,' he said, 'we have some of them under supervision, and I
chance to know of two who would suit your purpose well, and are
unemployed at present, and badly in need of money. I have no doubt but
that they will be glad to serve you. They have earned the reputation of
being conscientious in carrying out their engagements, and intrepid in
danger.'

Pignaver had listened attentively, and at once asked for the names and
the address of the Bravi.

'They are known as Trombin and Gambardella,' said the Signor; 'they are
now in Venice, and are generally to be heard of at the eating-house of
Markos, the Samian money-lender and wine-dealer. I dare say you know
where his place is? Not far from the Rialto, on this side----'

'In what is left of the old Quirini Palace, where they sell poultry
downstairs?' asked Pignaver.

'Precisely. I see you are acquainted with the resort. I have, in fact,
been there myself--on a matter of duty, of course.'

'Of course,' echoed the Senator. 'I have only heard of it, but I think I
can find it.'

'I am sure you can,' assented the Signor, without a smile.

Pignaver had not only heard of the eating-house, but he had been there
more than once, and knew the taste of the famous pilaf and the flavour
of the old wine of Samos as well as anybody. He had even sat in the
recess where the two gentlemen of fortune were at that moment supping.
He had worn a mask, it is true, and by some mistake a lady had sat down
at the same small table a mom