reason, then?"

In the darkness the Sicilian felt the deep flush which stole into his
olive cheeks. He was not there without an effort. In all his deeds and
thoughts he had always reckoned himself as others had reckoned him, an
honorable man. His presence in this place, and the means he was stooping
to use, filled him with the most intense humiliation. Only one thing was
stronger--his passionate love for Adrienne Cartuccio.

"Do not breathe the Signorina's name," he muttered. "Receive your
instructions, but make no comments."

"Command, Signor; I am ready," was the whispered answer.

"First; have you succeeded as you expected? The carriage and mules and
men?"

"In ten minutes I could have them all here, Signor. The task was not
easy, but it is accomplished. They are at the Signor's disposal. All
that remains is for you to give the orders."

The Sicilian was perfectly silent for a moment. The darkness hid his
face--hid the shame which for a moment lowered it, the shame which an
honorable gentleman feels when he stoops to dishonor. It passed away
before the stronger feeling, and when he spoke his tone was firm though
low.

"It is well. Listen, Pietro. The attempt is to be made to-night, in
three hours' time. You will be prepared? The notice is sufficient?"

"More than sufficient, Signor. The sooner the better. The mouths of my
men are closed with gold, and they are carefully chosen; but, one and
all, they love the wine, and wine, in its way, is as powerful as gold.
See that animal yonder, Signor. My men love the drink as well as he, and
before he reached that state he might have chattered away a dozen
secrets."

The Sicilian watched the man who was lying on the sawdust-strewn floor.
Something in his breathing attracted him, and he leaned forward.

"Is he asleep, do you think?" he whispered. "I thought I saw his eyes
open."

Pietro rose, and crawling like a cat, drew close to the drunken man. He
passed his hand lightly over him, and listened to his breathing. Finally
he crept back to his seat.

"That is no spy!" he whispered; "he is only a common fisherman, and he
is stupefied with drink. I watched him when he came in. Proceed, Signor.
Let me know your plans."

The Sicilian continued, speaking as rapidly as possible. He had
conspired before, but honorably, and with men of his own rank. But
here--in this low den, with such a companion--it made his heart sick. He
was only anxious to get away as speedily as p