“In the mean time,” he said, “I will not detain you.  If you remain at the same hotel we shall be able to communicate with you.  I presume your carriage is outside?”

“It is waiting for us a little way off.”

He accompanied them into the tessellated court-yard, but not to the gate.  He bade good-bye to his elder friend; then he took the younger lady’s hand and held it, and regarded her.

“Figliuola mia,” he said, with a kindly glance, “I pity you if you have to suffer.  We will hope for better things:  if it is impossible, you have a brave heart.”

When they had left he went up the marble staircase and along the empty corridor until he reached a certain room.

“Granaglia, can you tell me where our friend Calabressa may happen to be at this precise moment?”

“At Brindisi, I believe, Excellenza.”

“At Brindisi still.  The devil of a fellow is not so impatient as I had expected.  Ah, well.  Have the goodness to send for him, friend Granaglia, and bid him come with speed.”

“Most willingly, Excellenza.”

CHAPTER XLIX.

AN EMISSARY.

One warm, still afternoon Calabressa was walking quickly along the crowded quays of Naples, when he was beset by a more than usually importunate beggar—­a youth of about twelve, almost naked.

“Something for bread, signore—­for the love of God—­my father taken to heaven, my mother starving—­bread, signore—­”

“To the devil with you!” said Calabressa.

“May you burst!” replied the polite youth, and he tried to kick Calabressa’s legs and make off at the same time.

This feat he failed in, so that, as he was departing, Calabressa hit him a cuff on the side of the head which sent him rolling.  Then there was a howl, and presently there was a universal tumult of women, calling out, “Ah, the German! ah, the foreigner!” and so forth, and drawing threateningly near.  Calabressa sought in his pockets for a handful of small copper coins, turned, threw them high in the air, and did not stay to watch the effect of the shower on the heads of the women, but walked quietly away.

However, in thus suddenly turning, he had caught sight—­even with his near-sighted eyes—­of an unwholesome-looking young man, pale, clean-shaven, with bushy black hair, whom he recognized.  He appeared to pay no attention, but walked quickly on.  Taking one or two unnecessary turnings, he became convinced that the young man, as he had suspected, was following him:  then, without more ado, and even without looking behind him, he set out for his destination, which was Posilipo.

In due course of time he began to ascend the wooded hill with its villas and walls and cactus-hedges.  At a certain turning, where he could not be observed by any one behind him, he turned sharp off to the left, and stood behind a wooden gate; a couple of minutes afterward the young man came along, more rapidly now, for he no doubt fancied that Calabressa had disappeared ahead.