and Gaydon at his dark window caught a
glimpse of it. The face was the face of his King.

Gaydon was more than ever puzzled. He had only seen the face for an
instant; moreover, he was looking down upon it, so that he might be
mistaken. He felt, however, that he was not, and he began to wonder at
the business that could take his King to this mysterious house. But
there was one thing of which he was sure amidst all his doubts, Rome was
not the safest city in the world for a man to walk about at nights. His
King would be none the worse off for a second guardian who would follow
near enough to give help and far enough for discretion. Gaydon went down
his stairs into the street. The lantern twinkled ahead; Gaydon followed
it until it stopped before a great house which had lights burning here
and there in the windows. The smaller man mounted the steps and was
admitted; his big companion with the lantern remained outside.

Gaydon, wishing to make sure of his conjectures one way or the other,
walked quickly past him and stole a glance sideways at his face. But the
man with the lantern looked at Gaydon at the same moment. Their eyes
met, and the lantern was immediately held aloft.

"It is Major Gaydon."

Gaydon had to make the best of the business. He bowed.

"Mr. Whittington, I think."

"Sir," said Whittington, politely, "I am honoured by your memory. For
myself, I never forget a face though I see it but for a moment between
the light and the dark, but I do not expect the like from my
acquaintances. We did meet, I believe, in Paris? You are of Dillon's
regiment?"

"And on leave in Rome," said Gaydon, a trifle hastily.

"On leave?" said Whittington, idly. "Well, so far as towns go, Rome is
as good as another, though, to tell the truth, I find them all quite
unendurable. Would I were on leave! but I am pinned here, a watchman
with a lantern. I do but lack a rattle, though, to be sure, I could not
spring it. We are secret to-night, major. Do you know what house this
is?"

"No," replied Gaydon. "But I am waited for and will bid you good-night."

He had a thought that the Chevalier, since he would be secret, had
chosen his watchman rather ill. He had no wish to pry, and so was for
returning to his lodging; but that careless, imprudent man, Whittington,
would not lose a companion so easily. He caught Gaydon by the arm.

"Well, it is the house of Maria Vittoria, Mademoiselle de Caprara, the
heiress of Bologna, who has onl