ut he curbed the rise in his temper. It was enough
that the United States was made the dumping-ground of the criminal
courts of Europe, without having it forced upon him in this
semi-contemptuous fashion. The _carabinieri_ saw the effort.

"The signore speaks Italian so well that he will understand that we have
nothing to do with deportation. Our business is simply to arrest
offenders against the State. It is to the State you must look for
redress; and here the State is indifferent where the offender goes, so
long as it is far away." The speaker bowed ceremoniously.

"Yes, I understand. But I repeat, my servant is a legal citizen of the
United States, and there will be complications if you touch him."

"Not for us. That rests between you and the State. Our orders are to
arrest him."

"At any rate, it looks as though Giovanni had been forewarned of your
visit. And may I ask, what is the name of the officer Giovanni attempted
to kill?"

"It is not necessary that you should know."

Hillard accepted the rebuke with becoming grace.

"And now, signore," with the utmost courtesy, "permit us to apologize
for this intrusion. We shall wait in the hall, and if we find Giovanni
we shall gladly notify you of the event."

The two officers bowed and passed out into the corridor. Hillard raised
his hat, and closed the door.

"Now, what the deuce has all this powwow been about?" demanded Merrihew;
for he had understood nothing, despite his _How to Speak Italian in One
Day_.

"It's that rascal Giovanni."

"Did he find his man and cut him up?"

"No. It seems that these carabinieri have remark-able memories; the old
affair. Poor devil! I can't imagine how they traced him here. But I
repeatedly warned him about going abroad in the daylight. Hello, what's
this?" going to the table. It was a note addressed to him; and it was
from the fugitive.

My kind master--The _carabinieri_ are after me. But rest easy. I
was not born to rot in a dungeon. I am going north. As for my
clothes, send them to Giacamo, the baker, who lives on the road to
El Deserta. He will understand. May the Holy Mother guard you,
should we never meet again!

Hillard passed the note to Merrihew.

"That's too bad. I've taken a great fancy to him. It seems that the
peasant has no chance on this side of the water. His child a painted
dancer in Paris, and a price on his own head! It's hard luck. And the
fellow who caused all this troubl