“Well, ma’am,” said he, as he seated himself near to Lady Dalrymple, “I said that the business I wanted to speak about was important, and that it was a matter of life and death.  I assure you that it is.  But before I tell it I want to say something about the row in Rome.  I have reason to understand that I caused a little annoyance to you all.  If I did, I’m sure I didn’t intend it.  I’m sorry.  There!  Let’s say no more about it.  ’Tain’t often that I say I’m sorry, but I say so now.  Conditionally, though—­that is, if I really did annoy any body.”

“Well, Sir?”

“Well, ma’am—­about the business I came for.  You have made a sudden decision to take this journey.  I want to know, ma’am, if you made any inquiries about this road before starting?”

“This road?  No, certainly not.”

“I thought so,” said the Baron.  “Well, ma’am, I’ve reason to believe that it’s somewhat unsafe.”

“Unsafe?”

“Yes; particularly for ladies.”

“And why?”

“Why, ma’am, the country is in a disordered state, and near the boundary line it swarms with brigands.  They call themselves Garibaldians, but between you and me, ma’am, they’re neither more nor less than robbers.  You see, along the boundary it is convenient for them to dodge to one side or the other, and where the road runs there are often crowds of them.  Now our papal government means well, but it ain’t got power to keep down these brigands.  It would like to, but it can’t.  You see, the scum of all Italy gather along the borders, because they know we are weak; and so there it is.”

“And you think there is danger on this road?” said Lady Dalrymple, looking keenly at him.

“I do, ma’am.”

“Pray have you heard of any recent acts of violence along the road?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then what reason have you for supposing that there is any particular danger now?”

“A friend of mine told me so, ma’am.”

“But do not people use the road?  Are not carriages constantly passing and repassing?  Is it likely that if it were unsafe there would be no acts of violence?  Yet you say there have been none.”

“Not of late, ma’am.”

“But it is of late, and of the present time, that we are speaking.”

“I can only say, ma’am, that the road is considered very dangerous.”

“Who considers it so?”

“If you had made inquiries at Rome, ma’am, you would have found this out, and never would have thought of this road.”

“And you advise us not to travel it?”

“I do, ma’am.”

“What would you advise us to do?”

“I would advise you, ma’am, most earnestly, to turn and go back to Rome, and leave by another route.”

Lady Dalrymple looked at him, and a slight smile quivered on her lips.

“I see, ma’am, that for some reason or other you doubt my word.  Would you put confidence in it if another person were to confirm what I have said?”