have been to many churches."

"The police will not suspect him if he goes there," said Calabressa,
laughing.

"And to the shops in the Piazza San Marco, where the pictures are of the
saints."

"Well?"

"Little father, I can find no one of the saints so beautiful as that one
in England that the Master Calabressa knows."

Calabressa laughed again.

"Allons, mon grand enfant! Tell him that if it is only a likeness he is
hunting for, I can show him one."

With that he took out from his breast-pocket a small pocket book, opened
it, found a certain photograph, and put it on the table, shoving it over
toward Kirski. The dim-eyed Russian did not dare to touch it; but he
stooped over it, and he put one trembling hand on each side of it, as if
he would concentrate the light, and gazed at this portrait of Natalie
Lind until he could see nothing at all for the tears that came into his
eyes. Then he rose abruptly, and said something rapidly to Edwards.

"He says, 'Take it away, or you will make me a thief. It is worth more
than all the diamonds in the world.'"

Calabressa did not laugh this time. He regarded the man with a look in
which there was as much pity as curiosity.

"The poor devil!" he said. "Tell him I will ask the beautiful saint whom
he worships so to send him a portrait of herself with her own hands. I
will. She will do as much as that for her friend Calabressa."

This had scarcely been translated to Kirski when, in his sudden
gratitude, he caught Calabressa's hand and kissed it.

"Tell him, also," Calabressa said, good-naturedly, "that if he is hungry
before dinner-time there is sausage and bread and beer in the cupboard.
But he must not stir out till we come back. Allons, mon bon camarade!"

Calabressa lit another cigarette, and the two companions sallied forth.
They stepped into a gondola, and presently they were being borne swiftly
over the plain of light-green water. By-and-by they plunged into a
varied and picturesque mass of shipping, and touched land again in front
of a series of stores. The gondola was ordered to await their return.

Calabressa passed without question through the lower floor of this
particular building, where the people were busy with barrels of flour,
and led the way up-stairs until he stopped at a certain door. He knocked
thrice and entered. There was a small, dark man seated at a table,
apparently engaged with some bills of lading.

"You are punctual, Brother Calabressa."