After running for about a mile he saw a light ahead of him, and soon arrived at a cottage.  He knocked at the door, and then entered.  The occupants of the room—­a man and woman, a lad, and several children—­rose to their feet at the sudden entrance of the stranger.

“Good people,” Francis said.  “I have just landed from a ship, and am the bearer of important messages to the Signoras Polani.  I have lost my way, and it is necessary that I should go on without a moment’s delay.  Can you tell me how far the villa of Polani is distant?”

“It is about three miles from here,” the man said.

“I will give a ducat to your son if he will run on with me at once.”

The man looked doubtful.  The apparel and general appearance of Francis were not prepossessing.  He had been six days a prisoner in the hold without means of washing.

“See,” he said, producing a ducat, “here is the money.  I will give it you at once if you will order your son to go with me, and to hurry at the top of his speed.”

“It’s a bargain,” the man said.

“Here, Rufo! start at once with the signor.”

“Come along, signor,” the boy said; and without another word to the parents Francis followed him out, and both set off at a run along the road.

Francis had said nothing about pirates to the peasants, for he knew that, did he do so, such alarm would be caused that they would think of nothing but flight, and he should not be able to obtain a guide.  It was improbable that they would be molested.  The pirates were bent upon pillaging the villas of the wealthy, and would not risk the raising of an alarm by entering cottages where there was no chance of plunder.

After proceeding a few hundred yards, the lad struck off by a byroad at right angles to that which they had been following, and by the direction he took Francis felt that he must at first have gone far out of his way, and that the party going direct to the villa must have had a considerable start.  Still, he reckoned that as he was running at the rate of three feet to every one they would march, he might hope to arrive at the house well before them.

Not a word was spoken as they ran along.  The lad was wondering, in his mind, as to what could be the urgent business that could necessitate its being carried at such speed; while Francis felt that every breath was needed for the work he had to do.  Only once or twice he spoke, to ask how much further it was to their destination.

The last answer was cheering: 

“A few hundred paces farther.”

“There are the lights, signor.  They have not gone to bed.  This is the door.”

Francis knocked with the pommel of his sword, keeping up a loud continuous knocking.  A minute or two passed, and then a face appeared at the window above.

“Who is it that knocks so loudly at this time of night?”

“It is Francisco Hammond.  Open instantly.  Danger threatens the signoras.  Quick, for your life!”