some of the poorer Romans,
dwelling in the desolate regions between the Lateran and Santa Maria
Maggiore, had not even seen it. It might have been expected that it was
to become the resort of loungers, gossips, foreigners, dealers in
images and rosaries, barbers, fortune-tellers, and money-changers, as
the ancient portico had been that used to form a straight covered way
from the Basilica to the Bridge of Sant' Angelo; but for some
inexplicable reason this never happened, and it was always, as it is
now, a deserted place.

The Bravi, who were men of taste, according to their times, admired the
architecture extremely, and often walked there for half an hour before
it was time to hear the Benediction music in the church, which was
always good and sometimes magnificent.

This afternoon they were strolling not far from the bronze gate that
gives access to the Vatican; a dozen paces or more behind them, within
call but out of hearing of their conversation, walked the excellent
Tommaso, otherwise known as Grattacacio, the ex-highway robber, about
whom they had just been talking. The last words had barely passed
Trombin's lips when they heard the man's footsteps approaching them
rapidly from behind. They stopped to learn what was the matter.

'A young gentleman on a mule is coming, with several servants,' Tommaso
said quickly. 'He has his right arm in a sling. Perhaps he is your man.'

The two friends nodded carelessly, but drew their hats a little lower
over their eyes as they turned and walked back, skirting the inner side
of the colonnade so as to watch the party that was coming straight
across the Piazza in the sun from the direction of Porta Santo Spirito.
As soon as they saw the face of the young man who rode the mule they
recognised Trombin's adversary, who wore his broad-brimmed hat far down
on the left to screen him from the sun, thus exposing the right side of
his face to their view. They went on quietly, as if they had hardly
noticed him, and he paid no attention to them. When he and his three
servants had almost reached the bronzed gates, the Bravi despatched
their man after him to find out his name from the groom who would hold
his mule, while they themselves remained where they were, walking slowly
up and down, a dozen steps each way.

'I see a golden opportunity rising in the distance,' said Trombin. 'It
illuminates my imagination and lights up my understanding.'

'It will probably dazzle mine, so that I