"I saw them all together on the yacht when I came away, signor," exclaimed the pilot. "That is, all except the old signor, who was walking with some Turks, a Frenchman, and another who looked like an Englishman." "The old signor was walking with the Turks?" cried Brett. "Without doubt. He conversed with them. I thought it strange that he took no notice of those on board the yacht, but just then the steamer----" "Now," said Brett to himself, "Winter has arrested somebody. Talbot is on the right track!" Yielding to impulse he stopped suddenly and called a cab. "Here!" he said to the pilot, "ask the driver if he saw two carriages pass up the Corso just now at a very fast pace? Very well! Tell him to follow them if possible. Jump in with me. I may need your services as interpreter. We must overtake one or both of those carriages!" CHAPTER XXI THE FIGHT Not often have the good people of Palermo seen three cabs pass through the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele in such fashion. The sight made loiterers curious, drove policemen frantic, and caused the drivers of other vehicles to pull to one side and piously bless themselves. Dubois had evidently offered his _cocchiere_ a lavish bribe for a quick transit through the city, and the Italian was determined to earn it. Although he had a good start, and his horse was accustomed to negotiating the main thoroughfare at a rapid pace, nevertheless the half-starved animal was not able to maintain a high rate of speed for more than a few minutes. By the time they reached the Corso Catafini, which carries the chief artery of Palermo out into the country--crossing the railway and passing the magnificent convent of San Francisco de Sale--the horse was labouring heavily notwithstanding the frantic efforts of the cabman. It was at this point, when mounting the bridge, that Dubois knew for certain he was followed. Three hundred yards behind, he saw Talbot whipping an equally unwilling, but better-conditioned steed than that which carried his own fortunes. At the distance he could not recognize the Englishman, but instinct told him that this impassioned driver was an enemy. Brett, of course, was not visible, being far in the rear. "My friend," said Dubois, standing up in the small carriage and leaning against the driver's seat, "I offered you twenty francs if you crossed the city quickly. I will make it forty for another mile at the same pace. See, I place the money in your pocket." "It will kill my horse, signorina." "Possibly. I will buy you another." The _cocchiere_ thought that this was a lady of strange manner. There was an odd timbre in her voice, a note of domination not often associated with the fair sex. But she had given earnest of her words by a couple of gold pieces, so he murmured a prayer to his favourite saint that the horse might not die until the right moment.