"Take this to the telegraph office in Regent Street," he said. "I'm leaving this morning, and if anybody calls, tell them I've gone to Washington, to Timbuctoo, or to the devil, if you like--anyhow, I shan't be back for a month. You understand?" "Yes, sir," answered the man with a smile. "Shall I forward any letters?" "Yes, Poste Restante, Leghorn." At that moment the bell of the outer door rang out sharply, and Smayle went in response, returning a moment later, saying-- "Major Maitland, sir." "Show him in," answered his master in a tone of suppressed excitement. The man disappeared, and a second later the Major entered jauntily, his silk hat slightly askew, extended his well-gloved hand, greeted his friend profusely with the easy air of a man about town, and sank into one of the comfortable saddle-bag chairs. "Well, my dear fellow," he exclaimed as soon as they were alone. "Why do you risk London after the events of the other night? I never dreamed that I should find you at home." "I'm leaving for Italy again by the eleven train," the other answered. "Have you read this morning's paper?" "Of course I have," answered the Major. "It's an infernally awkward bit of business for both of us, I'm afraid. That introduction at the station was the greatest mistake possible, for the cabman will no doubt identify us. Besides, he overheard you address me by rank." "But the police have no suspicion," Tristram observed. "At present we are safe enough." "If I were you I wouldn't arrive or depart from Charing Cross for a few months at least," the Major suggested. "The business is far too ugly for us to run any unnecessary risks, you know." "No; I shall make a habit of departing from London Bridge and arriving at Cannon Street. I never have more than hand-baggage with me." "Where are you going to-day?" "To Leghorn again. Right into the very midst of the enemy's camp," he laughed. "Suppose any facts regarding the mystery have been published in the local papers, don't you think you'd stand a good chance of being arrested? The police in Italy are very arbitrary." "They dare not arrest me with despatches in my possession. I have immunity from arrest while on official business," His Majesty's messenger answered. "That may be so," replied the Major. "But you'd have a considerable difficulty in persuading the police of either London or Leghorn that you were not the amiable young man who arrived at Charing Cross with Vittorina." "And you would have similar difficulty, my dear old chap, in convincing the detectives that you were not the person who waited for us on the platform," the other replied. "You're so well known about town that, if I were you, I should leave London at once, and not take a return ticket." "I leave to-night." "By what route?"