“Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence; but his friends paid it back at once, and the affair was hushed up,--he comes of a good family,--and ever since then he has been irreproachable. How Rivarez found out about it I can't conceive; but the first thing he did at interrogation was to bring up this old scandal--before the subaltern, too! And with as innocent a face as if he were saying his prayers! Of course the story's all over the Legation by now. If Your Eminence would only be present at one of the interrogations, I am sure you would realize---- He needn't know anything about it. You might overhear him from------” Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor with an expression which his face did not often wear. “I am a minister of religion,” he said; “not a police-spy; and eavesdropping forms no part of my professional duties.” “I--I didn't mean to give offence------” “I think we shall not get any good out of discussing this question further. If you will send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with him.” “I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence not to attempt it. The man is perfectly incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get rid of him before he does any more mischief. It is with great diffidence that I venture to press the point after what Your Eminence has said; but after all I am responsible to Monsignor the Legate for the order of the town------” “And I,” Montanelli interrupted, “am responsible to God and His Holiness that there shall be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you press me in the matter, colonel, I take my stand upon my privilege as Cardinal. I will not allow a secret court-martial in this town in peace-time. I will receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten to-morrow morning.” “As Your Eminence pleases,” the Governor replied with sulky respectfulness; and went away, grumbling to himself: “They're about a pair, as far as obstinacy goes.” He told no one of the approaching interview till it was actually time to knock off the prisoner's chains and start for the palace. It was quite enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew, to have this Most Eminent son of Balaam's ass laying down the law, without running any risk of the soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends to effect an escape on the way. When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the room where Montanelli was writing at a table covered with papers, a sudden recollection came over him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he had sat turning over manuscript sermons in a study much like this. The shutters had been closed, as they were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's voice outside had called: “Fragola! Fragola!” He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes and set his mouth in a smile. Montanelli looked up from his papers. “You can wait in the hall,” he said to the guards.