I went slowly down, till I came to the bottom of it, where a narrow road branched off, leading to a kind of observatory; but I saw nothing of an hotel.

My heart became like lead.

Simon’s sketch of the streets had not been a false one.  If any of my readers have been to Turin, they will remember the long street leading from the station; they will also recognize the two squares which Simon indicated in his plan.  True, he had sketched them out of proportion, while the street was far more straight than he had drawn it.  Still, it bore a close resemblance to that particular part of the city.

But there was no hotel, nor sign of one in the street.

We walked up and down again and again, with no success.  Could it be that I had come all these weary miles again only for a bitter and terrible disappointment?  The thought almost drove me mad.

I would not give up, however!  There might be no hotel, but it was possible Kaffar stayed in a lodging-house, or even in a private house.  I would knock at every house in the street, and make inquiries, before I would give up.

The Italian language was not altogether strange to me.  I could not by any means speak it fluently, but I knew it enough to enter into an ordinary conversation.  So, seeing a soldier pass up the street, I saluted him and asked him whether he knew a lodging-house or private boarding establishment in the street?

No, the soldier said, he did not know any at all in that street, or, indeed, in that part of the town; but if I would go with him, he would direct me to a splendid place, marvellously convenient, marvellously clean, and marvellously cheap, and, best of all, kept by his mother’s sister.

I cannot say I felt either elated or depressed by this answer.  Evidently this was a keen youth, trying to get a suitable customer for his relations.

Another youth came up to me soon after, offering to sell me photographs of some of the principal sights in Turin.  Could he tell me of any boarding or lodging establishment in the street?

Yes, he knew of three or four.  For a franc he would give me their history and lead me to them.

Was there one about the middle of the street?

Yes, there were two close together.  Should he take me?

I closed with the youth’s offer, and accordingly we walked down the street together.  He entered a tobacconist’s shop, assuring me that this was a lodging-house.

A young Italian girl stood behind the counter, as if waiting for an order; so I asked to see the proprietor of the place.

She immediately went out of the shop and gave a shout, and a minute after a matronly woman entered, about fifty years of age, and who, from her close resemblance to the dark-eyed girl, was probably her mother.

Was she the proprietor of this establishment?

She was.

Did she keep a boarding-house?