ancy they 'll be forgotten up there," said Pracontal,
pointing upwards as he spoke.

"What do you know about 'up there,'" said he, sternly, "more than
myself? Are not your vague words, 'up there,' the proof that it 's as
much a mystery to _you_ as to _me?_"

"Don't get into theology with him, or you 'll have to listen to more
blasphemy than you bargain for," whispered Long-worth; and whether the
fellow overheard or merely guessed the meaning of the words, he grinned
diabolically, and said,--

"Yes, leave that question there."

"Are you not afraid of the police, my friend?" asked Longworth. "Is it
not in their power to send you back to those you have escaped from?"

"They might with another, but the Cardinal Secretary knows _me_. I have
told him I have some business to do at Rome, and want only a day or two
to do it, and he knows I will keep my word."

"My faith, you are a very conscientious galley-slave!" cried Pracontal.
"Are you hungry?" and he took a large piece of bread from the sideboard
and handed it to him. The man bowed, took the bread, and laid it beside
him on the window-board.

"And so you and Antonelli are good friends?" said Longworth sneeringly.

"I did not say so. I only said he knew me, and knew me to be a man of my
word."

"And how could a Cardinal know--" when he got thus far he felt the
unfairness of saying what he was about to utter, and stopped, but the
man took up the words with perfect calmness, and said:--

"The best and the purest people in this world will now and then have to
deal with the lowest and the worst, just as men will drink dirty water
when they are parched with thirst."

"Is it some outlying debt of vengeance, an old vendetta, detains you
here?" asked Longworth.

"I wouldn't call it that," replied he, slowly, "but I'd not be surprised
if it took something of that shape, after all."

"And do you know any other great folk?" asked Pra-contal, with a laugh.
"Are you acquainted with the Pope?"

"No, I have never spoken to him. I know the French envoy here,
the Marquis de Caderousse. I know Field-Marshall Kleinkoff. I know
Brassieri--the Italian spy--they call him the Duke of Brassieri."

"That is to say, you have seen them as they drove by on the Corso, or
walked on the Pincian?" said Longworth.

"No, that would not be acquaintance. When I said 'know' I meant it."

"Just as you know my friend here, and know _me_ perhaps?" said
Pracontal.

"Not only him, but _you_,"