ther. Ah-a! look yonder, but
not hastily, my Carlo. Checco is nearing us, and he knows that he has
fellows after him. And if I guess right, he has a burden to deliver to
one of us.'

Checco came along at his usual pace, and it was quite evident that he
fancied himself under espionage. On two sides of the square a suspicious
figure threaded its way in the line of shade not far behind him. Checco
passed the cafe looking at nothing but the huge hands he rubbed over and
over. The manifest agents of the polizia were nearing when Checco ran
back, and began mouthing as in retort at something that had been spoken
from the cafe as he shot by. He made a gabbling appeal on either side,
and addressed the pair of apparent mouchards, in what, if intelligible,
should have been the language of earnest entreaty. At the first word
which the caffe was guilty of uttering, a fit of exasperation seized
him, and the exciteable creature plucked at his hat and sent it whirling
across the open-air tables right through the doorway. Then, with
a whine, he begged his followers to get his hat back for him. They
complied.

'We only called "Illustrissimo!"' said Agostino, as one of the men
returned from the interior of the caffe hat in hand.

'The Signori should have known better--it is an idiot,' the man replied.
He was a novice: in daring to rebuke he betrayed his office.

Checco snatched his hat from his attentive friend grinning, and was away
in a flash. Thereupon the caffe laughed, and laughed with an abashing
vehemence that disconcerted the spies. They wavered in their choice of
following Checco or not; one went a step forward, one pulled back; the
loiterer hurried to rejoin his comrade, who was now for a retrograde
movement, and standing together they swayed like two imperfectly jolly
fellows, or ballet bandits, each plucking at the other, until at last
the maddening laughter made them break, reciprocate cat-like hisses of
abuse, and escape as they best could--lamentable figures.

'It says well for Milan that the Tedeschi can scrape up nothing better
from the gutters than rascals the like of those for their service,'
quoth Agostino. 'Eh, Signor Conte?'

'That enclosure about La Vittoria's name on the bills is correct,' said
the person addressed, in a low tone. He turned and indicated one who
followed from the interior of the caffe.

'If Barto is to be trusted she is not safe,' the latter remarked. He
produced a paper that had been secre