Never
did Lord Palmerston so thirst to implant British institutions in a
foreign soil, as did he to teach these "macaroni rascals what a good
police meant." What honest indignation did he not vent upon English
residents abroad, who, for sake of a mild climate and lax morality,
could exchange their native country for the Continent; and at last,
fairly worn out with his denunciations, he sat down on a bench, tired
and exhausted.

"Will you t-t-tell them to let me go?" cried Purvis. "I've done
nothing. I never do anything. My name is Purvis,--Sc-Sc-Scroope
Purvis,--bro-brother to Mrs. Ricketts, of the Villino Zoe."

"Matters which have no possible interest for _me_, sir," growled out
Grounsell; "nor am I a corporal of gendarmes, to give orders for your
liberation."

"But they 'll take me to--to prison!" cried Purvis.

"With all my heart, sir, so that I be not your fellow captive," rejoined
the doctor, angrily, and left the spot; while the police, taking as many
precautions for securing Purvis as though he had been a murderer or a
house-breaker, assisted him into a caleche, and, seated one on either
side of him, with their carbines unslung, set out for Florence.

"They'll take me for Fr-Fr-Fra Diavolo, if I enter the city in this
fashion," cried Purvis; but certainly his rueful expression might have
belied the imputation.

Grounsell sat down upon a grassy bench beside the road, overcome with
fatigue and disappointment. From the hour of his arrival in Florence, he
had not enjoyed one moment of rest. On leaving Lady Hester's chamber he
had betaken himself to Sir Stafford's apartment; and there, till nigh
daybreak, he sat, breaking the sad tidings of ruin to his old friend,
and recounting the terrible story of disasters which were to crush him
into poverty. Thence he hastened to George Onslow's room; but he was
already gone. A few minutes before he had started with Norwood for
Pratolino, and all that remained for Grounsell was to inform the police
of the intended meeting, while he himself, wisely suspecting that
nothing could go forward in Florence unknown to Jekyl, repaired to that
gentleman's residence at once.

Without the ceremony of announcement, Grounsell mounted the stairs, and
opened the door of Jekyl's apartment, just as its owner had commenced
the preparations for his breakfast. There was an almost Spartan
simplicity in the arrangements, which might have made less composed
spirits somewhat abashed and ill a