band and wife. We two can be brother and sister. What is your
sister's name?"

"Anna."

"Lend me her name for a little while, will you? You don't object?"

Manasseh turned strangely sober. "It would be only for your sake that I
should object," he replied. "The bearer of that name is a very
unfortunate girl."

So they agreed to leave the train at Bologna and take the mountain pass.
It only remained to hoodwink Benjamin Vajdar, and Manasseh Adorjan
promised to effect this. He alighted before the train had fairly
stopped, having first directed the others to go into the waiting-room.
"That young man will not stir from his seat, nor will he even look out
of the window," added Manasseh, with as much confidence as if he had
acquired a talisman which enabled him to control the other's actions.

As the train rolled out of the station the artist rejoined his party,
with the welcome assurance that their enemy was now out of their way.

"Is there a mysterious relation of some sort between you two?" asked
Blanka.

"Yes--one of fear: I tremble every time I see the man."

"You tremble?"

"Yes; I am afraid I shall kill him some day."

With that, and as if regretting that he had said so much, he hurried
away to engage a carriage to take them to Vergato. During his absence
the advocate explained to his client that the Unitarians have an
especial horror of bloodshed. He declared that some of them shrank from
taking even an animal's life and abstained entirely from the use of
meat.

Blanka shook her head incredulously. She could not conceive of a
gentleman's being forbidden by his scruples to use arms when the
occasion demanded. How else, she asked, could he defend his honour, his
loved ones, the women entrusted to his charge?

When the four were seated in their carriage, the gentlemen facing the
ladies, Blanka led the conversation back to the point at which Manasseh
had dropped it.

"You said you feared you should kill that young man some day," she
began. "Does your religion forbid you to kill a man--under any
circumstances?"

"With a single exception," he replied; "but that exception is out of the
question in this instance."

Blanka wondered what the single exception could be, but refrained from
asking. "Are you well acquainted with Mr. Vajdar?" she inquired
presently.

"We have known each other from childhood," was the reply. "Whatever I
possessed was shared with him. His father was my father's steward; and
when t