.
O'Donovan Florence; but the printed visitors' list there told him that
she had left nearly a fortnight since. On his return to the villa, he
was greeted by Marietta with the proud tidings that her Excellency the
Duchessa di Santangiolo had been to see her.

"Oh--? Really?" he questioned lightly. (His heart, I think, dropped a
beat, all the same.)

"Ang," said Marietta. "She came with the most Eminent Prince Cardinal.
They came in the carriage. She stayed half an hour. She was very
gracious."

"Ah?" said Peter. "I am glad to hear it."

"She was beautifully dressed," said Marietta.

"Of that I have not the shadow of a doubt," said he.

"The Signorina Emilia drove away with them," said she.

"Dear, dear! What a chapter of adventures," was his comment.

He went to his rustic table, and picked up his book.

"How the deuce did that come there?" he wondered, discovering the snuff
box.

It was, in truth, an odd place for it. A cardinal may inadvertently
drop his snuff box, to be sure. But if the whole College of Cardinals
together had dropped a snuff box, it would hardly have fallen, of
its own weight, through the covers of an open book, to the under-side
thereof, and have left withal no trace of its passage.

"Solid matter will not pass through solid matter, without fraction--I
learned that at school," said Peter.

The inference would be that someone had purposely put the snuff box
there.

But who?

The Cardinal himself? In the name of reason, why?

Emilia? Nonsense.

Marietta? Absurd.

The Du--

A wild surmise darted through Peter's soul. Could it be? Could it
conceivably be? Was it possible that--that--was it possible, in fine,
that this was a kind of signal, a kind of summons?

Oh, no, no, no. And yet--and yet--

No, certainly not. The idea was preposterous. It deserved, and (I trust)
obtained, summary deletion.

"Nevertheless," said Peter, "it's a long while since I have darkened the
doors of Ventirose. And a poor excuse is better than none. And anyhow,
the Cardinal will be glad to have his snuff."

The ladder-bridge was in its place.

He crossed the Aco.

XXVIII

He crossed the Aco, and struck bravely forward, up the smooth lawns,
under the bending trees, towards the castle.

The sun was setting. The irregular mass of buildings stood out in
varying shades of blue, against varying, dying shades of red.

Half way there, Peter stopped, and looked back.

The level sunshine tur