m only a blurred and indistinct landscape; and in
the crisp stillness the leather of his saddle creaked a monotonous
accompaniment to the horse's hoofs, which struck the road with clean-cut
staccato sharpness.

Meanwhile, in the big best room on the ground floor of Donna Marcella's
house, Porter slept. A man's step outside and the fingering of a
shutter-latch disturbed him not at all; even when there came a nervous
tap on the window frame, Porter slept on. A moment of silence followed,
and then a voice breathed stridently, "_Signore!_" Porter stirred in his
sleep. A man's head and shoulders appeared over the sill of the open
window. "_Signore! Signore l'Americano!_" The tone was louder and very
urgent. Porter awoke with a start and seized his revolver. "_Pax, pax!_"
came the voice as the man dropped out of sight.

"_Signore, Signore._ It is a friend who would speak to the _Signore
l'Americano_!" The syllables were whispered with ringing distinctness.
Porter jumped out of bed, revolver in hand. Close to the window, he
demanded who was there.

"It is a matter of life and death! May I show myself?"

"Certainly!" said Porter. "For heaven's sake, stand up and let me have a
look at you! And give an account of why you are getting a Christian out
of his bed at this unearthly hour!" In the glimmering dawn he could see
the outline of the man's figure, but he could not recognize him.

"_Signore_, I would speak with the big _Americano_, the one who sent the
daylight miracle to the palace of the archbishop. I am sent by His
Eminence the Archbishop. I am Teobaldo his servant. See, I carry the
archbishop's holy ring to show I speak the truth."

Porter saw the ring distinctly, held between the man's fingers--"Yes! I
believe you. Be quick!"

"I have ridden through the night, but I arrive late because I lost my
path in the blackness. Last night by chance it became known to the
archbishop that there is a plot to assassinate the Americano. I am come
secretly to warn him. The assassin is waiting along the road to the
mine; it is to be there, and the hour is now!"

Porter sprang back into the room. "Jack, Jack! For God's sake, are you
there?" He tore back the covers of Derby's bed, but it was empty. He
remembered with horror that the _carabinieri_ were not to accompany
Derby that morning. He had insisted that they were no longer necessary.
Scrambling into his clothes any fashion--his trousers over his pajamas,
his shoes over stockin