ving an American citizen of his liberty on any
such trumped-up charge as that! I'll telegraph the consul in Milan.
I'll----'

'Oh, don't trouble. I'll get off this afternoon; they've sent for some
one to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can
hold me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough.'

Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. 'H'm, it isn't bad for a jail!
Got everything you need--tobacco, papers?' What's this, New York _Sun_
only ten days old?' He picked it up and plunged into the headlines.

Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony.

'You didn't go to Austria after all?'

'I was detained; I hope to get off to-morrow.'

'Oh, before I forget it.' She removed the basket from her arm and set it
on the table. 'Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't remember
whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never known
any prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you'll like it;
Elizabetta made it.'

He bowed stiffly. 'I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta.'

'Tony!' She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glanced
apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. 'If
by any chance they _should_ identify you as that deserter, just get word
to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder
and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only
Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy----'

'This is your innings,' Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. 'I hope you'll
get all the entertainment you can out of the situation.'

'Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course,' she added with a plaintive
note in her voice, 'this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant
surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought
that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any
more.'

'I wish I knew whether there's any truth in that statement or not!'

'Any truth! I realize well, that I might search the whole world over and
never find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wears
such lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony'--she took a
step nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation--'you've lost
your earrings!'

He turned his back and walked to the window, where he stood moodily
staring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiously
out of the corner of he