apel where I had first seen
them. Then, as they did not come, I idled before a cafe in the Via
Calzajoli, and again in the Piazza della Signorina. But I saw nothing
of them. That afternoon I spent the winter sunshine in the Cascine,
the beautiful wood beside the Arno where the Florentines go each day
for the _passeggiata_, either in their old-fashioned landaus with
armorial bearings upon the panels, in modern motor-cars, or on foot.
The afternoon, though it was winter, was glorious, even though the
cold wind from the snow-tipped Apennines swept sharply down the
valley. Yet everyone was wrapped up warmly, and the fresh air was
invigorating.

Though I kept my eyes open everywhere, I failed to detect that slim
figure in rusty black.

I allowed the following day to pass. Then, at four o'clock in the
afternoon, I called at the house of Doctor Moroni in pretence of again
consulting him.

Upon the door of the great old house, now converted into spacious
flats, was a small, rather tarnished brass plate with the words: "Dr.
Moroni, Primo Piano."

So I climbed the wide stone stairs to the first floor, and rang the
bell. My summons was answered by a tall, swarthy, dark-eyed Italian
maid, who wore a dainty muslin apron, but no cap--as is the custom in
Italy. She was a Piedmontese, for in her hair she wore several of
those large pins with round heads of silver filigree placed in a
semicircle at the back of her head, until they formed a kind of halo.

"The Signore Dottore is at home," was her reply in Italian. "Be
pleased to enter."

And she showed me along a narrow hall to what was evidently Moroni's
waiting-room. The atmosphere of the place was close on account of the
charcoal stove, and the barely-furnished room smelt of some
disinfectant.

I had sat there for some moments when I heard a door open, and men's
voices sounded speaking in English:

"Very well, signore," I heard the doctor say. "I will be up at the
villa at eleven o'clock."

"Good," replied the other. "You will not be troubled by Robertson this
time. He will be away. I am sending him on a message to Pisa, as I do
not want him about; he is too inquisitive. Besides, you will not come
to the house. You quite understand where we shall meet?"

"Quite, signore," replied Moroni.

By the mode in which the doctor addressed his visitor, and the mention
of Robertson, it was plain that he was speaking with Oswald De Gex.
Why was the butler to be sent to Pisa? I won