Memory was not the colonel’s strong point, but as a standing rule, he knew better than to contradict his daughter.

“I must mention this to the public prosecutor at once, colonel.  And besides, we expect a surgeon this evening, who will make an examination of the two bodies, and find out whether the wounds were caused by that particular weapon.”

“I gave it to Orso,” said the colonel, “and I wish I knew it was at the bottom of the sea.  At least——­Plucky boy!  I’m heartily glad he had it with him, for I don’t quite know how he would have got off if it hadn’t been for my Manton.”

CHAPTER XIX

It was rather late when the surgeon put in an appearance.  On his road up he had met with an adventure of his own.  He had been stopped by Giocanto Castriconi, who, with the most scrupulous politeness, called on him to come and attend a wounded man.  He had been conducted to Orso’s retreat, and had applied the first dressings to his wound.  The bandit had then accompanied the doctor some distance on his way, and had greatly edified him by his talk concerning the most celebrated professors at Pisa, whom he described as his intimate friends.

“Doctor,” said the theologian, as they parted, “you have inspired me with such a feeling of respect that I think it hardly necessary to remind you that a physician should be as discreet as a confessor.”  And as he said the words he clicked the trigger of his gun.  “You have quite forgotten the spot at which we have had the honour of meeting.  Fare you well!  I’m delighted to have made your acquaintance.”

Colomba besought the colonel to be present at the post-mortem examination.

“You know my brother’s gun better than anybody,” she said, “and your presence will be most valuable.  Besides there are so many wicked people here that we should run a great risk if there were nobody present to protect our interests.”

When she was left alone with Miss Lydia, she complained that her head ached terribly, and proposed that they should take a walk just outside the village.

“The fresh air will do me good,” she said.  “It is so long since I’ve been out of doors.”

As they walked along she talked about her brother, and Miss Lydia, who found the subject tolerably interesting, did not notice that they had travelled a long way from Pietranera.  The sun was setting when she became aware of this fact, and she begged Colomba to return.  Colomba said she knew a cross-cut which would greatly shorten the walk back, and turning out of the path, she took another, which seemed much less frequented.  Soon she began to climb a hill, so steep that to keep her balance she was continually obliged to catch hold of branches with one hand, while she pulled her companion up after her with the other.  After about twenty minutes of this trying ascent, they found themselves on a small plateau, clothed with arbutus and myrtle, growing round great granite boulders that jutted above the soil in every direction.  Miss Lydia was very tired, there was no sign of the village, and it was almost quite dark.