In fact, he appears to be so much too good
for this world that he ought to be politely escorted into the next. I
am sure he would cause as great a sensation there as he has done here;
there are p-p-probably many old-established ghosts who have never seen
such a thing as an honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts
love as they do novelties----"

"How do you know that?" asked Dr. Riccardo's voice in a tone of
ill-suppressed irritation.

"From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel is to be trusted, even the
most respectable of all Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances.
Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals--that seems to me a somewhat capricious
alliance, and rather an uncomfortable one, like shrimps and liquorice.
Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely weather after the rain, is
it not? Have you been to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?"

Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly, with a cigar in his mouth and
a hot-house flower in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender,
carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected in his immaculate
boots and glancing back from the water on to his smiling face, he looked
to Martini less lame and more conceited than usual. They were shaking
hands, affably on the one side and rather sulkily on the other, when
Riccardo hastily exclaimed:

"I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!"

She was so pale that her face looked almost livid under the shadow of
her bonnet, and the ribbon at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the
violent beating of the heart.

"I will go home," she said faintly.

A cab was called and Martini got in with her to see her safely home. As
the Gadfly bent down to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the
wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and Martini saw that she
shrank away with a look of something like terror.

"Gemma, what is the matter with you?" he asked, in English, when they
had started. "What did that scoundrel say to you?"

"Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I--I--had a fright----"

"A fright?"

"Yes; I fancied----" She put one hand over her eyes, and he waited
silently till she should recover her self-command. Her face was already
regaining its natural colour.

"You are quite right," she said at last, turning to him and speaking in
her usual voice; "it is worse than useless to look back at a horrible
past. It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one imagine all sorts
of impossible things. W