etter came, and then I didn't dare!"

"You did very wrong," replied Miss Nevil. "If a word from me could--"

"I can't send him any letter now. The prefect has arrived, and
Pietranera is full of his policemen. Later on, we'll see what we can
do. Oh, Miss Nevil, if you only knew my brother, you would love him as
dearly as I do. He's so good! He's so brave! Just think of what he has
done! One man against two, and wounded as well!"

The prefect had returned. Warned by an express messenger sent by the
deputy-mayor, he had brought over the public prosecutor, the registrar,
and all their myrmidons, to investigate the fresh and terrible
catastrophe which had just complicated, or it may be ended, the warfare
between the chief families of Pietranera. Shortly after his arrival, he
saw the colonel and his daughter, and did not conceal his fear that the
business might take on an ugly aspect.

"You know," he said, "that the fight took place without witnesses, and
the reputation of these two unhappy men stood so high, both for bravery
and cunning, that nobody will believe Signor della Rebbia can have
killed them without the help of the bandits with whom he is now supposed
to have taken refuge."

"It's not possible," said the colonel. "Orso della Rebbia is a most
honourable fellow. I'll stake my life on that."

"I believe you," said the prefect. "But the public prosecutor (those
gentry always are suspicious) does not strike me as being particularly
well disposed toward him. He holds one bit of evidence which goes rather
against our friend--a threatening letter to Orlanduccio, in which he
suggests a meeting, and is inclined to think that meeting was a trap."

"That fellow Orlanduccio refused to fight it out like a gentleman."

"That is not the custom here. In this country, people lie in ambush, and
kill each other from behind. There is one deposition in his favour--that
of a child, who declares she heard four reports, two of which were
louder than the others, and produced by a heavy weapon, such as Signor
della Rebbia's gun. Unluckily, the child is the niece of one of the
bandits suspected of being his accomplices, and has probably been taught
her lesson."

"Sir," broke in Miss Lydia, reddening to the roots of her hair, "we were
on the road when those shots were fired, and we heard the same thing."

"Really? That's most important! And you, colonel, no doubt you remarked
the very same thing?"

"Yes," responded Miss Lydia quic