Without a moment's hesitation David Rossi stepped down and spoke to the

men.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you know who I am. I am Rossi. The police have

orders to arrest me. Will you help me to get out of Rome?"

"What's that?" shouted a drowsy voice from the smoky shadows of the

cellar.

"It's the Honourable Rossi," said a lad who had shambled up. "The

oysters are after him, and will we help him to escape?"

"Will we? It's not will we; it's can we, Honourable," said a

thick-set man, who lifted his head from an upturned horse-saddle.

In a moment the men were all on their feet, asking questions and

discussing chances. The gate was to be opened at six, and the first

train north was to go out at half-past nine. But the difficulty was that

everybody in Rome knew Rossi. Even if he got through the gate he could

not get on to the train within ten miles of the city without the

certainty of recognition.

"I have it!" said the thick-set man with the drowsy voice. "There's

young Carlo. He got a scratch in the leg last night from one of the wet

nurses of the Government, and he'll have to lie upstairs for a week at

least. Why can't he lend his clothes to the Honourable? And why can't

the Honourable drive Carlo's cart back to Monte Rotondo, and then go

where he likes when he gets there?"

"That will do," said Rossi, and so it was settled.

* * * * * When the train which left Rome for Florence and Milan at 9.30 in the

morning arrived at the country station of Monte Rotondo, eighteen miles

out, a man in top-boots, blue trousers, a white waistband and a

red-lined overcoat got into the people's compartment. The train was

crowded with foreigners who were flying from the risks of insurrection,

and even the third-class carriages were filled with well-dressed

strangers. They were talking bitterly of their experiences the night

before. Most of them had been compelled to barricade their bedroom doors

at the hotels, and some had even passed the night at the railway

station.

"It all comes of letting men like this Rossi go at large," said a young

Englishman with the voice of a pea-hen. "For my part, I would put all

these anarchists on an uninhabited island and leave them to fight it out

among themselves."

"Say, Rossi isn't an anarchist," said a man with an American intonation.

"What is he?"




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