Thus they swirled on, pursued and pursuers, until the villa residences on the outskirts of the town were less in evidence, and fields devoted to the pepper-wort, alternated with groves of olives and limes, formed the prevalent features of the landscape. Now it became evident that the leading horse could barely stagger another fifty yards, notwithstanding the inhuman efforts of the _cocchiere_ to make the most of the poor brute's failing energies. At last the animal stumbled and fell, nearly pulling the driver off his perch. It was sad, but he had more than earned his price, for Palermo lay far behind. "My horse is done for, signorina," cried the cabman. "It is marvellous that he--_Corpo di Baccho!_ It is a man!" Dubois felt that his feminine trappings were no longer a disguise, only a hindrance. He had torn off jacket, skirt, hat and wig. The frightened cabman saw his fare--changed now into an athletic young man, attired in shirt and trousers, the latter rolled up to his knees--spring from the vehicle and vault over a ditch by the roadside. Some portion of the discarded clothing lay on the seat of the carriage, but Dubois had thrown the skirt over his arm. "Here! Come back!" yelled the Italian. "What about payment for my dead horse?" But Dubois paid little heed to him. He was fumbling with the pocket of the skirt as he ran. Not until he had withdrawn a revolver from its folds--whereupon he at once threw away the garment--did the maddening remembrance come to him that he unloaded the weapon prior to the Customs examination, and had forgotten to reinsert the cartridges. They were in the pocket of his serge coat, the coat which Mademoiselle wore. She, like a prudent young woman, had been careful to reload the revolver she carried, and which she transferred to her new attire when, at the last moment, Dubois suggested the exchange of clothing as a final safeguard in the most unexpected event of police interference with their landing. Henri Dubois could not afford to expend his breath in useless curses. But his eyes scintillated with fiery gleams. He, the man who took no chances, who foresaw every pitfall and smiled at the devices of outraged law, to compromise his own safety so foolishly! For an instant he was tempted to fling the weapon away, but he controlled the impulse. "As it is," he thought, "this fellow who is pursuing me may not be armed, and I can terrorise him if he comes to close quarters." Moreover, this superlative scoundrel could feel tightly fastened round his waist a belt containing diamonds worth over a million sterling. Such a ceinture was worth fighting for, whilst his pocket-book contained ample funds for all immediate necessities. If the worst came to the worst he carried a trustworthy clasp knife, and he was an adept in the savate--the system of scientific defence by using hands and feet which finds favour with Parisian "sports."