It was eight o'clock. She had not realized
what time it was. If she found the street door shut in the Via della
Frezza, it would be hard to get at Griggs. She had passed the house more
than once in her walks, and she knew that Griggs lived high up in the
fifth story. It might be already too late. She hesitated and looked up
and down the pavement. A young French officer of Zouaves was coming
towards her; his high wrinkled and varnished boots gleamed in the
gaslight. He had a black beard and bright young eyes, and was smoking a
cigarette. He was looking at her and slackened his pace as he came near.
She left her place and walked swiftly past him, down the Corso.

All at once she felt in the gust that drove her a cool drop of rain just
behind her ear, and a moment later, passing a gas-lamp, she saw the dark
round spots on the grey pavement. In her haste, she had brought no
umbrella. She hurried on, and the wind blew her forward with all its
might, so that she felt her steps lightened by its help. The Corso was
darker and there were fewer people. The rain fell fast when she reached
San Carlo, where the street widens, and she gathered her cloak about
her as well as she could and crossed to the other side, hoping to find
more shelter. She was nearing the Via della Frezza, and she knew some of
the ins and outs of the narrow streets behind the tribune of the great
church. It was very dark as she turned the semicircle of the apse, and
the rain fell in torrents, but it was shorter to go that way, for Griggs
lived nearer to the Ripetta than to the Corso, and she followed a sort
of crooked diagonal, in the direction of his house. She thought the
streets led by that way to the point she wished to reach, and she walked
as fast as she could. The flare of an occasional oil lamp swung out high
at the end of its lever showed her the way, and showed her, too, the
rush of the yellow water down the middle channel of the street. She
looked in vain for the turning she expected on her right. She had not
lost her way, but she had not found the short cut she had looked for.
Emerging upon the broad Ripetta, she paused an instant at the corner and
looked about, though she knew which way to turn. Just then there were
heavy splashing footsteps close to her.

"Permit me, Signora," said a voice that was rough and had an odd accent,
though the tone was polite, and a huge umbrella was held over her head.

She shrank back against the wall quickly, in w