n glanced at his companion, and the two had him by his arms in
an instant, though he struggled desperately. They were very strong
fellows, and between them could have thrown a horse, and though
Stradella was supple and quick, he was powerless between them.

During the short exchange of words Ortensia had leaned back against the
window-sill in frightened surprise, but when she saw her lover suddenly
pinioned and dragged towards the door, she flew at the sbirri like a
tigress, and buried her fingers in the throat of the nearest, springing
upon him from behind. The fellow shook her off as a bull-terrier would a
rat, and, while keeping his hold on the prisoner with one hand, he
tripped her roughly with his foot and the other, by a common
professional trick, throwing her heavily upon the brick floor. Before
she could rise, the men had got Stradella outside, and as she struggled
to her feet she heard the key turned, and knew that she was locked in.
In wild despair she beat upon the solid panels with her small fists, but
no one answered her. Stradella's man was scouring the town for horses,
and Pina was not within hearing.

Meanwhile the singer had submitted, as soon as he realised that he had
no chance of escape, and that, unless the men were acting a part, he had
been taken for a man called Bartolo, and would be able to explain the
mistake as soon as he was brought before a responsible officer or
magistrate. Indeed, when this view presented itself to him, he was only
anxious to facilitate the course of events as much as possible, and
spoke civilly to his captors, while walking quietly downstairs between
them; but they did not let go of his arms for that reason.

Below, in the arched entrance, the innkeeper was waiting, in
conversation with three other sbirri, dressed and armed much in the same
manner as the two who had made the arrest.

'It is a mistake,' Stradella said to the host. 'I am taken for another
man, and as soon as I have explained who I am, I shall return. I shall
be obliged if you will attend to the wants of the lady and her
serving-woman.'

'Guests who quit the house without paying their score generally leave
their luggage as security,' answered the host with an insulting sneer,
and pointing towards the entrance.

There, to his surprise, Stradella saw two sturdy porters, laden with his
valises, his cloak, and his lute, and evidently waiting to accompany
him.

'What are you doing, you scoundrels?' he cri