Clementina

"To be sure."

Cardinal Origo repeated three or four names. They were the names of men

known to Wogan for irreproachable loyalty. Not one of them would have

gone about the Princess with slanders upon his master; he would have

gone bail for them all,--at least, a month ago he would, he reflected,

though now indeed he hardly knew where to put his trust.

"Her Highness lives, as you know, a very suitable, secluded life,"

continued Origo.

"But might not others have had access to her at the Pilgrim Inn?"

"Nay, she was there but the one night,--the night of her arrival. I do

not think it likely. For if you remember, I myself went to her early the

next morning, and by a stroke of good luck I had already come upon the

little house in the garden which was offered to me by a friend of yours

for her Highness's service."

"On the evening of our arrival? A friend of mine offered you the house,"

said Wogan, puzzling over who that friend could be.

"Yes. Harry Whittington."

Wogan started to his feet. So, after all, Whittington was at the bottom

of the trouble. Wogan wondered whether he had done wisely not to publish

the fellow's treachery. But he could not,--no, he had to make his

account with the man alone. There were reasons.

"It was Harry Whittington who offered the house for her Highness's use?"

Wogan exclaimed.

"It was an offer most apt and kind."

"And made on the evening of our arrival?"

"Not an hour after you left me. But you are surprised?"

Wogan was reflecting that on the evening of his arrival, and indeed just

before Whittington made his offer to Origo, he had seen Whittington's

face by the torchlight in the square. That face lived very plainly in

Wogan's thoughts. It was certainly not for Clementina's service that

Whittington had offered the house. Wogan resumed his seat, saying

carelessly,-"I was surprised, for I had a notion that Whittington lodged opposite

the Torre Garisenda, and not at the house."

"Nor did he. He hired it for a friend who has now left Bologna."

"Man or woman?" asked Wogan, remembering that visitor who had drawn back

into the alley one early morning of last autumn. The man might very

likely have been Whittington.

"I did not trouble to inquire," said the Cardinal. "But, Mr. Wogan, why

do you ask me these questions?"