At that instant the maid entered, bearing a telegram which a lad on a cycle had brought from Uppingham for the Doctor's guest. The latter opened it, glanced at its few faintly-written words, then frowned and placed it in his pocket without comment. "Bad news?" inquired Malvano. "You look a bit scared." "Not at all; not at all," he laughed. "Merely a little affair of the heart, that's all;" and he laughed in a happy, self-satisfied way. Arnoldo was fond of the society of the fair sex, therefore the Doctor, shrewd and quick of observation, was fully satisfied that the message was from one or other of his many feminine acquaintances. "Well, induce Vittorina to believe that you love her, and all will be plain sailing," he said. "You are just the sort of fellow who can fascinate a woman and compel her to act precisely as you wish. Exert on her all the powers you possess." "I'm afraid it will be useless," his companion answered in a dry, hopeless tone. "Bah! Your previous love adventures have already shown you to be a past-master in the arts of flattery and flirtation. Make a bold bid for fortune, my dear fellow, and you're bound to succeed. Come, let's take a turn across the lawn; it's too warm indoors to-night." Romanelli uttered no word, but rose at his host's bidding, and followed him out. He felt himself staggering, but, holding his breath, braced himself up, and, struggling, managed to preserve an appearance of outward calm. How, he wondered, would Doctor Malvano act if he knew the amazing information which had just been conveyed to him? He drew a deep breath, set his lips tight, and shuddered. CHAPTER TWO. THE SILVER GREYHOUND. On the same night as the Doctor and his guest were dining in the remote rural village, the express which had left Paris at midday was long overdue at Charing Cross. Presently a troop of porters assembled and folded their arms to gossip, Customs officers appeared, and at last the glaring headlights of the express were seen slowly crossing the bridge which spans the Thames. Within a couple of minutes all became bustle and confusion. The pale faces and disordered appearance of alighting passengers told plainly how rough had been the passage from Calais. Many were tweed-coated tourists returning from Switzerland or the Rhine, but there were others who, by their calm, unruffled demeanour, were unmistakably experienced travellers.