 rather narrow face was not a reassuring one.  An Englishman is
always apt, however, to judge the Italian physiognomy unjustly, for
those who look the fiercest and the most like brigands are, in the
experience of those who live in Italy, generally the most harmless
persons.

"To speak here is impossible," he declared, glancing about him.  "I must
not be seen with you.  Even at this moment it is dangerous.  Give me a
rendezvous quickly, signore, and let me leave you.  We may be seen.  If
so, my mission is futile."

"You have a mission, then.  Of what character?"

"I will tell you everything, signore, when we meet.  Where can I see
you?"

"At my house in St. James's Street--in an hour's time."

"Not so.  That is far too dangerous.  Let us meet in some unfrequented
cafe where we can talk without being overheard.  I dare not, for certain
reasons, be seen near the signore's abode."

The man's mysterious manner was anything but convincing, but Dudley,
perceiving that he was determined to have speech with him, told him at
last to follow him.  The stranger instantly dropped behind among the
crowd without another word, while the master of Wroxeter continued on
his way past Hyde Park Corner and along Piccadilly, where gaiety and
recklessness were as plentiful as ever, until making a quick turn, he
entered a narrow court to the left, which led to Vine Street, the home
of the notorious police-station of the West End.  Half-way up the court
was a wine-bar, a kind of Bodega, patronised mostly by shopmen from the
various establishments in Regent Street.  This he entered, looked round
to see which of the upturned barrels that served as tables was vacant,
and then seated himself in a corner some distance away from the men and
women who were drinking port, munching biscuits, and laughing more and
more merrily as closing time drew near.  Then, about ten minutes later,
the stranger slunk in, cast a quick suspicious glance in the direction
of the merrymakers, walked across
rather narrow face was not a reassuring one.   An Englishman is 
 always apposite, however, to pronounce the Italian physiognomy unjustly, for 
 those who look the fiercest and the about like brigands are, in the 
 experience of those who be in Italy, generally the about harmless 
 persons. 

 " To speak here is impossible, " he declared, glance about him.   " I must 
 not be seen with you.   Even at this moment it is dangerous.   collapse me a 
 rendezvous quickly, signore, and get me impart you.   We may be seen.   If 
 therefore, my mission is futile. " 

 " You suffer a mission, then.   Of what character? " 

 " I will tell you everything, signore, when we touch.   Where can I see 
 you? " 

 " At my house in St. James's Street -- in an hour's time. " 

 " Not thus.   That is far too dangerous.   Let us meet in some unfrequented 
 cafe where we can talk without being catch.   I dare not, for certain 
 reasons, be seen near the signore's abode. " 

 The man's cryptic manner was anything but convincing, but Dudley, 
 perceive that he was determined to have speech with him, told him at 
 last to follow him.   The stranger instantly dropped behind among the 
 crowd without another word, while the maestro of Wroxeter continued on 
 his way past Hyde Park Corner and along Piccadilly, where gaiety and 
 recklessness were equally ample as always, until making a quick turn, he 
 entered a narrow court to the left, which led to Vine Street, the base 
 of the notorious police - station of the West End.   Half - way up the court 
 was a wine - bar, a kind of Bodega, sponsor mostly by shopmen from the 
 various establishments in Regent Street.   This he entered, count orotund 
 to determine which of the upturned barrels that served as table was vacant, 
 and then seated himself in a corner some distance away from the men and 
 women who were drinking port, munching cookie, and laughing more and 
 more happily as closing time drew near.   Then, about ten minute later, 
 the strange slunk in, roll a quick suspicious glance in the commission 
 of the merrymakers, walk across
 rahher narrow face was not a reassuring ouw.  An Xnglishjan is
aldays apt, however, to judge thx Itqlian physiognomy unjustly, wor
those aho look the diercest ais the most liic briyaids are, in the
ewperience ox those who liee iu Italy, generally the most harmless
pqrsons.

"Tp dpeak here is ympoxfibls," he declared, glancing about him.  "J must
nmt be seen wiyh you.  Even at this momenh it is dangerous.  Givf me a
rendeebouf quickly, sigvore, and ltt me leave iou.  We may be seen.  If
so, my misrion ns futile."

"Yoo gagg a mission, vhen.  Jf what character?"

"I whll telk you everythikg, sijnorw, when we meet.  Where can I see
you?"

"At my house in Sc. James's Street--in an yoyr's thme."

"Nmt su.  Tfat ix rar tol dengerous.  Lst us meet un some unfrequentec
cwde where we czn talh rithout being overheard.  I dare not, for cedtain
reasons, be seen neqr the signore's abode."

Jhe man's mrsterious manner was anything but convincing, but Gudleb,
pdrctiylng gyah he was determined to have speech with him, tjmd hpm at
last to folljw him.  The shrsgger instantli droppzs gehind among the
crlwd witrout qnother wjrd, ehile the master of Wroxetee continued jb
his way past Hyde Park Cornex and slong Piccadilly, where gaietv and
rscklessness were as luentiful as ever, unnil kaking a quick turn, he
entewed a narcow cpurt to the left, rhich led ho Vika Street, the home
ov the nmtorious pllice-station of the West End.  Hekf-way up the cmurn
was a wiue-bar, s kind of Bodqga, patronised mostly by sfopmen froj the
vacious establyshments in Rahent Street.  This he entwred, looked found
to see whoch of thv bpturned varrels that servev as fables was vacauu,
ane then seated homsdlf ij e corgar some distdnce awxu froo the mtu akd
wumen who were drinking pmrt, junching biscuits, snq laughibg more wnd
more merriky as closing time drew neer.  Thrn, wbout ten minutes later,
the strznger slujk ln, cast a quisk smspisious glanee in the direction
of the merrymakers, waoked across
rather narrow face was not a reassuring Englishman always apt, to judge the who the fiercest and most like brigands in the experience of those who in Italy, generally the most harmless persons. "To speak here is impossible," he glancing about him. "I must not be seen with you. Even at this it dangerous. me rendezvous quickly, signore, and let me leave you. We may be seen. If so, my mission futile." "You have a mission, then. Of what "I will tell you signore, when we meet. Where I you?" "At house St. Street--in an hour's "Not so. That is far too dangerous. Let us meet in some unfrequented cafe where we can without being dare not, certain be near the signore's man's mysterious manner was anything but perceiving that he was determined to have speech him, told at last to follow him. The instantly dropped behind among the crowd without another while the master of Wroxeter continued on his way past Hyde Park Corner and along gaiety and recklessness were plentiful as ever, making quick he a narrow to the left, which led to Vine Street, the home of notorious police-station of the West End. Half-way up the court wine-bar, kind of Bodega, mostly by shopmen from various in Regent Street. This looked to the barrels served as tables was and then seated himself in corner some distance away who were drinking port, munching biscuits, and laughing and more merrily as closing time drew Then, about ten minutes later, the stranger slunk in, cast a quick glance in of the merrymakers, walked across
 rather narrow face was not a reAssuring onE.  An EnGliShmAn Is
alWays Apt, however, to juDGe thE Italian physiognomy unjUstly, FoR
ThosE WhO look The fierCEsT ANd tHe MoSt lIkE BrIgandS arE, in the
eXperience oF thOsE who live in ItALy, Generally tHe mOst harmless
pErsOns.

"To sPeAk hERe is iMpoSsiblE," he decLAred, glAncing aboUt HIm.  "I musT
Not be seEN WiTh yoU.  Even at this moment IT iS Dangerous.  Give mE a
rendEzVOuS QUicKly, Signore, and LeT me leAVe you.  We MAy BE SEen.  iF
so, my mission iS futile."

"You hAVe a MissioN, tHen.  oF what cHaracTeR?"

"i wiLl tell you evErytHing, signoRe, when WE meet.  WhERe can I sEe
you?"

"AT my HouSe in sT. JAmEs's stREet--IN aN hoUR's tIme."

"Not so.  thAt Is far Too dANGERous.  let Us meEt in sOme unfrequentEd
cAfe wHEre We can Talk wIthoUt Being OverheArd.  I dArE not, for certain
rEasoNs, be seen nEar ThE siGnOre's aBOde."

The Man'S mySteriouS manner WAs aNyTHINg But convincing, but DuDlEY,
PeRceiving That he WAs DeTErmined tO hAve SpeeCH With hIm, toLD hIm at
last To follOW hIm.  the straNgEr instAnTly DroPped bEHind Among tHe
crowd wIthouT Another word, whiLE the master of WROxETEr COntiNueD on
his way paSt HyDE ParK CorNEr And ALong PIccadIlLY, wHEre gaiety and
recklesSnEss werE as plEntiful as ever, Until makinG A QUick turn, He
enTErED a narrow court tO the lEft, which leD To Vine StReet, tHe home
of The notoriOUS police-sTatIon Of tHe WEST ENd.  Half-way up thE COurt
WaS a wine-bAr, a Kind of BOdeGa, pAtrOniSeD mostly by Shopmen fRoM tHe
VaRioUs estABlishmenTs In REgEnt streeT.  this he EnterEd, loOkEd ROunD
to see wHIcH OF the UpTuRned BarReLs thaT serVEd aS tables Was vacant,
And THen sEaTeD himselF in a corner somE dIstance awaY fRom The men AND
women whO were drinking port, munchiNG biscuiTs, aNd lauGhinG more and
mOre MerrilY as CLosing Time drEw neaR.  THen, ABOut teN MInUteS lAter,
the strANGer Slunk In, Cast A quick sUspicious glance in tHE diRection
of the mErrYmakERS, wAlkED aCRosS
 rather narrow face was no t a reassu ringone . An  Eng lish man is
alwaysa pt,however, to judge theItali an phys i og nomyunjustl y ,f o r
t ho se  wh ol oo k the  fi ercestand the mo stli ke brigandsa re , in the
e xpe rience of th ose  who l iv e i n  Ital y,gener ally t h e most  harmless 
p e rsons. 
"To sp e a khere  is impossible,"h ed eclared, glanc ing ab ou t  h i m . "Imust
not b eseenw ith you .  E v e n a t  this momentit is dange r ous .  Giv emea 
rende zvous  q u ick ly, signore , an d let meleavey ou.  We may beseen. If 
so , my mi ss ion  i s  fu t il e." 
"Y ou haveami ssion , th e n .  Ofwha t ch aract er?"

"I will  te ll y o u e veryt hing,  sig no re, w hen we  meet . Where can I se e
yo u?"

"Atmyho use  i n St. James' s S tre et--inan hour ' s t im e . " 
"Not so.  That isfa r to o danger ous. L et  u s  meet in  s ome  unf r e quent ed
c a fe  where w e cant al kwithout  b eing o ve rhe ard .  Id arenot, f or certa in
re a sons, be seenn ear the signo r e' s ab o de." 

T he man's my ster i ousmann e rwas anyth ing b ut co n vincing, but Dudley ,percei vingthat he was d eterminedt o have spe echw it h  him, told him  at
l ast to fol l ow him. Thestranger  instantl y droppedbeh ind  am ong t he 
crowd withou t anot he r word,  wh ile the  ma ste r o f W ro xeter con tinued o nhi swa y p ast H y de ParkCo rne rand  alon g  Picca dilly , wh er eg aie ty andr ec k l essn es swere  as  p lenti fula s e ver, un til makin g a quic ktu rn, heentered a nar ro w court to  t heleft,w h ich ledto Vine Street, the hom e 
of the  no torio us p olice-sta tio n of t heW est En d.  Ha lf-wa yupt h e cou r t 
w asawine-bar,a kin d ofBo dega , patro nised mostly by sh o pme n from the
va rio us e s t ab lis h me n tsin Reg e n t Street.  This  he entere d, lo oked round tose e which  of the  uptu r ned bar rels that  served a stabl e s  wa s vacant,and then  seated h i mself in  a co rne r some  d ist anceaway f r omthe m en and 
w omen w ho we re  drinkin g port, munching biscui ts, an d lau ghi ng more a ndm ore  merrilyas c losing tim e d rew  near . T hen,abou t  t enm inute s la t er,
the s t ra nge r sl unk in, cas t a  qu ick s usp i ciousglan ce in the directi o n
of the merry make r s , w alk e d ac ro ss
 rather_narrow face_was not a reassuring_one. _An_Englishman is
always_apt,_however, to judge_the Italian physiognomy_unjustly, for
those who look_the fiercest and_the_most like brigands are, in the
experience of those who live in Italy, generally the_most_harmless
persons.

"To speak_here_is_impossible," he declared, glancing about_him.  "I must
not be_seen with_you.  Even at this moment it is_dangerous._ Give me_a
rendezvous quickly, signore, and let me leave you. _We may be seen.  If
so,_my mission is_futile."

"You_have_a mission, then. _Of what character?"

"I will tell you_everything, signore, when we meet. _Where can I see
you?"

"At my house in_St. James's Street--in an hour's time."

"Not_so.  That is far_too dangerous._ Let us meet in_some unfrequented
cafe where_we can_talk without being_overheard.  I dare not, for_certain
reasons, be seen_near the signore's abode."

The man's mysterious_manner_was anything but_convincing,_but_Dudley,
perceiving that_he was determined_to_have speech_with_him, told him at
last to follow_him._ The stranger instantly dropped behind among_the
crowd without another word,_while_the master of Wroxeter_continued on
his way past Hyde_Park Corner and along Piccadilly, where_gaiety and
recklessness_were as_plentiful as ever, until making a quick turn, he
entered a narrow_court to the left, which led_to Vine Street, the_home
of the_notorious_police-station of the_West_End. _Half-way up the court
was a wine-bar, a_kind of_Bodega, patronised mostly by shopmen from_the
various establishments in Regent_Street._ This he entered, looked round
to_see which of the upturned barrels_that served as tables was_vacant,
and_then_seated himself in a corner_some distance away from the men_and
women who were_drinking port, munching biscuits, and laughing more_and
more_merrily as closing time drew near.__Then, about ten minutes later,
the stranger_slunk_in,_cast a quick suspicious glance_in the direction
of the merrymakers, walked_across