It was with difficulty Gilardoni could curb his impatient desire for his master’s return. Could he by any possibility have imagined in which direction to seek for him, he would have started off in quest before the storm was well exhausted. But he was absolutely a stranger in this part of the world, and for aught he could tell, his master might be the same. He was perforce obliged to remain in Captain Desfrayne’s rooms in absolute inaction, listening with keenly strained watchfulness to every sound, every footfall of man or beast. Unfortunately, the rooms did not overlook the yard through which the young officer must enter the barracks, so Gilardoni did not enjoy the half-irritating consolation of watching the gate by which he would come. It was very late before there was the slightest sign of Captain Desfrayne’s coming. In fact, Gilardoni at length, somehow, lost count, and was only recalled to his eager watch by a gentle touch upon his shoulder. He sprang to his feet, unaware that he had fallen asleep. Captain Desfrayne had come into the room quietly. At first he had thought of letting the poor tired fellow have his sleep to the end in peace; but, finding he needed his services, he had aroused him. “No matter, my good Gilardoni,” he said, with that pleasant, winning, yet sad, smile that had become habitual to him. “I have no doubt you are tired waiting for me. I am dog-tired myself. This afternoon, I was caught in the storm, and had the good luck”--there was an imperceptible shade of irony in his tone--“to find shelter in a friend’s house, so was delayed. Will you----” The words died on his lips. Gilardoni had placed the tiny packet in the silver tissue-paper on the table, just within the rays of the lamp, and Paul Desfrayne’s glance happened to light on it as he spoke. With a hasty movement, he put out his hand to take it up, but the Italian was more swift, and with the rapidity of lightning covered the packet with the palm of his hand, but without removing it from the table. The two young men looked into each other’s face for some moments. Not a sound was heard beyond the monotonous tick-tick of the clock on the chimneypiece. “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Captain Desfrayne. He recollected the night when he engaged this man as his servant--it seemed months ago--when he had seen him clench his fist at the pictured resemblance to Lucia Guiscardini. Gilardoni took up the tiny gold cross in its filmy covering, and kept it in his hand. “Sir,” he said, “this morning you dropped this--as I supposed. I picked it up----” “Both self-evident facts. As it happens to belong to _me_, and you acknowledge my proprietorship, why do you not restore it to me?” said Captain Desfrayne. “Do you know what it is?” Gilardoni laughed bitterly. “I naturally opened the packet, in order to ascertain what the contents might be,” he responded, “for I was not certain until now that it had really been dropped by you, sir. It is----”