is not necessary that I should go on to tell how each night a new
thief stole to the window at the same critical moment to witness the
same ceremony, and listen to the same terrible words; as little needful
to record how, when the last evening of all closed in, and the whole
robber band stood trembling without, the magician dropped upon his
knees, and, throwing in the last of his dates, cried out, "There are all
of them!" The application of the story is easy. You, good reader, are
the Caliph,--the mock magician is myself. Our tale will probably, from
time to time, reveal who may be

"One of Them."

ONE OF THEM, Volume I.

CHAPTER I. A PIAZZA AFTER SUNSET

One of the most depressing and languid of all objects is the aspect
of an Italian city in the full noon of a hot summer's day. The massive
buildings, fortress-like and stern, which show no touch of life and
habitation; the glaring streets, un-traversed by a single passer;
the wide piazza, staring vacantly in the broiling sun; the shop doors
closed, all evidencing the season of the siesta, seem all waiting for
the hour when long shadows shall fall over the scorched pavement, and
some air--faint though it be--of coming night recall the population to a
semblance of active existence.

With the air of a heated wayfarer, throwing open his coat to refresh
himself, the city, at last, flings wide jalousie and shutter, and the
half-baked inhabitant strolls forth to taste the "bel fresco." It is
the season when nationalities are seen undisturbed by the presence of
strangers. No travellers are now to be met with; the heavy rumbling of
the travelling-carriage no longer thunders over the massive causeway;
no postilion's whip awakes the echoes of the Piazza; no landlord's bell
summons the eager household to the deep-arched doorway. It is the
People alone are abroad,--that gentle Italian people, quiet-looking,
inoffensive as they are. A sort of languid grace, a kind of dignified
melancholy, pervades their demeanor, not at all unpleasing; and if the
stranger come fresh from the west of Europe, with its busy turmoil and
zeal of money-getting, he cannot but experience a sense of calm and
relief in the aspect of this easily satisfied and simple population.
As the gloom of evening thickens the scene assumes more of life and
movement. Vendors of cooling drinks, iced lemonades, and such-like, move
along with gay flags flaunting over the brilliant urnlike copper that
contain