er, well known to hundreds of people in Rome.'

'You see how he persists,' answered the Legate with an ironical smile.
'Write down what he says as correctly as you can.'

Stradella saw that it was useless to protest, and that vehemence might
be dangerous.

'By your leave,' he said more quietly, 'if you will loosen my hands and
let me have my lute there, I will prove what I say, by singing and
playing to you.'

'Anybody can sing,' retorted Monsignor Pelagatti with profound contempt,
and without even looking at him. 'Write down that he has insulted this
tribunal by offering to sing to the Legate and his clerks--which low
jesting is contempt of court, and nothing else. The man is either drunk
or insane.'

Stradella was speechless with anger and disgust, and his face grew very
pale.

'Open his effects,' the Legate said, when the clerks' pens stopped
moving.

Two of the sbirri at once unstrapped the valises, and laid out the
contents on the long table on each side of the Legate, neatly and in
order. One of the bags contained clothes and personal effects, but the
other was almost entirely filled with manuscript compositions and a
supply of paper ruled for writing music. It also contained a leathern
pouch stuffed full of gold ducats.

'There we have it!' exclaimed Monsignor Pelagatti. 'Is the goldsmith
come?'

'He is waiting, your worship,' answered the officer at the door.

The goldsmith was ushered in, a grey-haired man, who still stooped when
he had finished his bow to the Legate. The latter ordered him to sit at
the table and test the gold coins one by one.

'This fellow,' said Monsignor Pelagatti, by way of explanation, 'is the
famous Sicilian coiner of counterfeit money, Bartolo. Push the good
ducats towards me, if you find any, and the false coin towards the clerk
at your elbow.'

The goldsmith glanced curiously at Stradella, and then took his small
block of basalt and a stoneware bottle of nitric acid from a leathern
bag he carried, slung on his arm. The spotted cat seemed interested in
these objects, and after having gazed at them placidly for half a
minute, rose with deliberation, walked along the edge of the table, and
sniffed at the stone and the goldsmith's fingers. It then crossed to the
Legate and sat down on his left, surveying the prisoner with apparent
satisfaction.

The Legate's eyes followed with keen interest the operations of the
expert, who took one coin after another from the pouch, ru