he sick man; and the words
were uttered firmly, but with the solemn fervor of prayer.

CHAPTER XXVIII. A NIGHT SCENE

As young Massy--for so we like best to call him--sat with the letter
in his hand, a card fell to the ground from between his fingers, and,
taking it up, he read the name "Lord Selby."

"What does this mean, Billy?" asked he; "whom can it belong to? Oh,
I remember now. There were some strangers at the Podesta's office this
morning when I was there; and one of them asked me to call at this inn,
and speak with them."

"He has seen the 'Alcibiades,'" exclaimed Billy, eagerly. "He has been
at the studio?"

"How should he?" rejoined the youth. "I have not been there myself for
two days: here is the key!"

"He has heard of it then,--of that I'm certain; since he could not be in
town here an hour without some one telling him of it." Massy smiled half
sadly, and shook his head. "Go and see him, at all events," said Billy;
"and be sure to put on your coat and a hat; for one would n't know what
ye were at all, in that cap and dirty blouse."

"I'll go as I am, or not at all," said the other, rising. "I am
Sebastian Greppi, a young sculptor. At least," added he, bitterly, "I
have about the same right to that name that I have to any other." He
turned abruptly away as he spoke, and gained the open air. There for a
few moments he stood seemingly irresolute, and then, wiping away a heavy
tear that had fallen on his cheek, he slowly descended the steps towards
the bridge.

When he reached the inn, the strangers had just dined, but left word
that when he called he should be introduced at once, and Massy followed
the waiter into a small garden, where, in a species of summer-house,
they were seated at their wine. One of them arose courteously as the
youth came forward, and placing a chair for him, and filling out a glass
of wine, invited him to join them.

"Give him one of your cigars, Baynton," said the other; "they are better
than mine." And Massy accepted, and began smoking without a word.

"That fellow at the police-office gave you no further trouble, I hope,"
said my lord, in a half-languid tone, and with that amount of difficulty
that showed he was no master of Italian.

"No," replied Massy; "for the present, he has done nothing more. I
'm not so certain, however, that to-morrow or next day I shall not be
ordered away from this."

"On what grounds?"

"Suspicion,--Heavens knows of what!"

"That's