"Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don't happen to have my papers with me--I trust it won't be necessary to produce them. You see--" his glance rested entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance's presence--"this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into a quarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoid being court-martialed he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan and they've been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had the misfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The matter was entirely accidental and I regretted it very much. I, of course, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into his head that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by _a priori_ reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly--" he waved his hand around the room--"you see me here." "It's an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on any such trumped-up charge as that! I'll telegraph the consul in Milan. I'll--" "Oh, don't trouble. I'll get off this afternoon; they've sent for someone to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can hold me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough." Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. "H'm, it isn't bad for a jail! Got everything you need--tobacco, papers? What's this, New York _Sun_ only ten days old?" He picked it up and plunged into the headlines. Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony. "You didn't go to Austria after all?" "I was detained; I hope to get off tomorrow." "Oh, before I forget it." She removed the basket from her arm and set it on the table. "Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't remember whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never known any prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you'll like it; Elizabetta made it." He bowed stiffly. "I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta." "Tony!" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glanced apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. "If by any chance they _should_ identify you as that deserter, just get word to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy--" "This is your innings," Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. "I hope you'll get all the entertainment you can out of the situation." "Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course," she added with a plaintive note in her voice, "this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any more." "I wish I knew whether there's any truth in that statement or not!"