was required, as Nino himself had not been to ascertain the position of the lower door, fearing lest he might be seen by Benoni.  He now hastily extinguished the light and let himself out of the house without noise.  He found his countryman ready with the mules, ordered him to come with him, and returned to the house, instructing him to follow and wait at a short distance from the door he would enter.  Muffled in his cloak, he stood in the street awaiting the messenger from Hedwig.

The crazy old clock of the church tolled the hour, and a man wrapped in a nondescript garment, between a cloak and an overcoat, stole along the moonlit street to where Nino stood, in front of my lodging.

“Temistocle!” called Nino, in a low voice, as the fellow hesitated.

“Excellency”—­answered the man, and then drew back.  “You are not the Signor Grandi!” he cried, in alarm.

“It is the same thing,” replied Nino.  “Let us go.”

“But how is this?” objected Temistocle, seeing a new development.  “It was the Signor Grandi whom I was to conduct.”  Nino was silent, but there was a crisp sound in the air as he took a banknote from his pocket-book.  “Diavolo!” muttered the servant, “perhaps it may be right, after all.”  Nino gave him the note.

“That is my passport,” said he.

“I have doubts,” answered Temistocle, taking it, nevertheless, and examining it by the moonlight.  “It has no visa,” he added, with a cunning leer.  Nino gave him another.  Then Temistocle had no more doubts.

“I will conduct your excellency,” he said.  They moved away, and Temistocle was so deaf that he did not hear the mules and the tramp of the man who led them not ten paces behind him.

Passing round the rock they found themselves in the shadow; a fact which Nino noted with much satisfaction, for he feared lest someone might be keeping late hours in the castle.  The mere noise of the mules would attract no attention in a mountain town where the country people start for their distant work at all hours of the day and night.  They came to the door.  Nino called softly to the man with the mules to wait in the shadow, and Temistocle knocked at the door.  The key ground in the lock from within, but the hands that held it seemed weak.  Nino’s heart beat fast.

“Temistocle!” cried Hedwig’s trembling voice.

“What is the matter, your excellency?” asked the servant through the keyhole, not forgetting his manners.

“Oh, I cannot turn the key!  What shall I do?”

Nino heard, and pushed the servant aside.

“Courage, my dear lady,” he said, aloud, that she might know his voice.  Hedwig appeared to make a frantic effort, and a little sound of pain escaped her as she hurt her hands.

“Oh, what shall I do!” she cried, piteously.  “I locked it last night, and now I cannot turn the key!”

Nino pressed with all his weight against the door.  Fortunately it was strong, or he would have broken it in, and it would have fallen upon her.  But it opened outward, and was heavily bound with iron.  Nino groaned.