ort of my mission. How am I
to find them?"

"You must find them through Calabressa," he said, "for I have not got
their address. So you can start this evening?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Then I will telegraph at once to Calabressa to let them know you are
coming. Mind you, I am very grateful to you, Evelyn; though I wish I was
going in your stead."

Lord Evelyn got some further instructions as to how he was to discover
Calabressa on his arrival in Naples; and that evening he began his
journey to the south. He set out, indeed, with a light heart. He knew
that Natalie would be glad to have a message from England.

At Genoa he had to break the journey for a day, having some commission
to perform on behalf of the Society: this was a parting bequest from
Gathorne Edwards. Then on again; and in due time he entered Naples.

He scarcely noticed, as he entered the vehicle and drove away to his
hotel, what bare-footed lads outside the station were bawling as they
offered the afternoon papers to the newly-arrived passengers. What
interest had he in Zaccatelli?

But what the news-venders were calling aloud was this:

"_The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli! Death of Zaccatelli! The death
of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!_"

CHAPTER LVII.

FAREWELL!

"Natalushka," said the tender and anxious mother, laying her hand on the
girl's head, "you must bestir yourself. If you let grief eat into your
heart like that, you will become ill; and what shall we do then, in a
strange hotel? You must bestir yourself; and put away those sad thoughts
of yours. I can only tell you again and again that it was none of your
doing. It was the act of the Council: how could you help it? And how can
you help it now? My old friend Stefan says it is beyond recall. Come,
Natalushka, you must not blame yourself; it is the Council, not you, who
have done this; and no doubt they think they acted justly."

Natalie did not answer. She sighed slightly. Her eyes were turned toward
the blue waters beyond the Castello dell' Ovo.

"Child," the mother continued, "we must leave Naples."

"Leave Naples!" the girl cried, with a sudden look of alarm; "having
done nothing--having tried nothing?" Then she added, in a lower voice,
"Well, yes, mother, I suppose it is true what they say, that one can do
nothing by remaining. Perhaps--perhaps we ought to go; and yet it is
terrible."

She shivered slightly as she spoke.

"You see, Natalushka," her mother said, determ