more than one family of exalted station. A
nobleman of proud lineage burnt all his papers and then opened the veins
of his wrists with a penknife, and so escaped the ignominy of a trial in
court. Another submitted to arrest, but no sooner saw his prison door
closed upon him than he despatched himself by piercing his heart with a
breast-pin. Two others vanished completely from sight and hearing the
very day the edict was published, and never showed themselves afterward.

Benjamin Vajdar, black with guilt as he knew himself to be, chose the
shrewder course of remaining in Vienna and calmly going about his
business, with all the outward confidence of spotless innocence.
Suspicion is much like a watch-dog; it leaps upon the man who quails.
Prince Cagliari and the Marchioness Caldariva also remained quietly in
the city, and even went so far as to forego their wonted sojourn at the
seashore when summer came. They seemed to have acquired a sudden
extraordinary fondness for the Austrian capital.

But one day the expected happened to Benjamin Vajdar. He was called to
the police bureau. The official who received him was an old friend of
his who now gave signal proof of his friendliness.

"Benjamin Vajdar," said he, "you are ordered by the government to leave
Vienna within twenty-four hours and go back to your native town, beyond
which you are forbidden to stir."

This mandate was a surprise to Vajdar, who had expected to be arrested
and tried, and had made his preparations accordingly. However, there was
nothing to do but submit to the inevitable. Further particulars or
explanations were denied him, except that he would find a special police
officer placed at his service from that moment until he reached his
destination,--which was a polite intimation that he was thenceforth
under government surveillance, and that any attempt at flight would be
frustrated.

He returned at once to his house, which adjoined that of the Marchioness
Caldariva. Indeed, from his bedroom a secret passage, already referred
to, led into Rozina's boudoir; but the clock-door had seldom opened to
the secretary of late. Toward seven o'clock in the evening he saw a
closed carriage drive away from the next door.

"She is going to the opera," said he to himself as he watched the
vehicle turn a corner and disappear. He donned hat and coat and
sauntered after it, the emissary of the police always ten steps in the
rear. Arrived at the opera-house, he purchase