matter, but I might get into trouble, for
the note might be forged; and even if it were not I should be declaring
myself a friend or a correspondent, at all events, of a man who had been
posted. In this dilemma I took the part of taking the bill of exchange to
him in person. I went to the posting establishment, hired two horses, and
drove to Pistoia. The landlord himself took me to the rascal's room, and
left me alone with him.

I did not stay more than three minutes, and all I said was that as Sassi
knew me I did not wish him to think that there was any kind of connection
between us.

"I advise you," I said, "to give the bill to your landlord, who will cash
it at M. Sassi's and bring you your change."

"I will follow your advice," he said, and I therewith returned to
Florence.

I thought no more of it, but in two days' time I received a visit from M.
Sassi and the landlord of the inn at Pistoia. The banker shewed me the
bill of exchange, and said that the person who had given it me had
deceived me, as it was not in the writing of the Englishman whose name it
bore, and that even if it were, the Englishman not having any money with
Sassi could not draw a bill of exchange.

"The inn-keeper here," said he, "discounted the bill, the Russian has
gone off, and when I told him that it was a forgery he said that he knew
Charles Ivanoff had it of you, and that thus he had made no difficulty in
cashing it; but now he wants you to return him two hundred crowns."

"Then he will be disappointed!"

I told all the circumstances of the affair to Sassi; I shewed him the
rascal's letter; I made Dr. Vannini, who had given it me, come up, and he
said he was ready to swear that he had seen me take the bill of exchange
out of the letter, that he had examined it, and had thought it good.

On this the banker told the inn-keeper that he had no business to ask me
to pay him the money; but he persisted in his demand, and dared to say
that I was an accomplice of the Russian's.

In my indignation I ran for my cane, but the banker held me by the arm,
and the impertinent fellow made his escape without a thrashing.

"You had a right to be angry," said M. Sassi, "but you must not take any
notice of what the poor fellow says in his blind rage."

He shook me by the hand and went out.

Next day the chief of police, called the auditor at Florence, sent me a
note begging me to call on him. There was no room for hesitation, for as
a stranger I