David Rossi swallowed his saliva, and said: "Where?"

"In Rome. I had trouble at the Embassy, and came back to appeal to the

Prime Minister. Everybody said I must reach him through Donna Roma, and

one of my relatives took me to her rooms. The moment I set eyes on her

I knew who she was. Donna Roma Volonna is the girl Roma Roselli, who was

lost in the streets of London."

David Rossi seemed suddenly to grow taller.

"You scoundrel!" he said, in a voice that was hollow and choked.

The man staggered back and stammered: "Why ... what...."

"I knew that girl. Until she was seven years of age she was my constant

companion--she was the same as my sister--and her father was the same as

my father--and if you tell me she is the mistress.... You infamous

wretch! You calumniator! You villain! I could confound you with one

word, but I won't. Out of my house this moment! And if ever you cross my

path again I'll denounce you to the police as a cut-throat and an

assassin."

Stunned and stupefied, the man opened the door and fled.

V

David Rossi came out with his long slow step, looking pale but calm, and

tearing a letter into small pieces, which he threw into the fire.

"What was amiss, sir? They could hear you across the street," said

Bruno.

"A man whose room was better than his company, that's all."

"What's his name?" said Bruno.

"Charles Minghelli."

"Why, that must be the secretary who was suspected of forgery at the

Embassy in London, and got dismissed."

"I thought as much!" said David Rossi. "No doubt the man attributed his

dismissal to the Prime Minister, and wanted to use me for his private

revenge."

"That was his game, was it? Why didn't you let me know, sir? He would

have gone downstairs like a falling star. Now that I remember, he's the

nephew of old Polomba, the Mayor, and I've seen him at Donna Roma's."

A waiter in a white smock, with a large tin box on his head, entered the

hall, and behind him came the old woman from the porter's lodge, with

the wrinkled face and the red cotton handkerchief.

"Come in," cried Bruno. "I ordered the best dinner in the Trattoria,

sir, and thought we might perhaps dine together for once."

"Good," said David Rossi.

"Here it is, a whole basketful of the grace of God, sir! Out with it,

Riccardo," and while the women laid the table, Bruno took the dishes

smoking hot from their temporary oven with its charcoal fire.




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