But quickly as the passage was made, the other had now won a handicap of perhaps twenty paces. That was too much; the distance would have to be diminished by half. And it could not be so difficult; he still had the soft sand of the bridle-path to the right of the trees, while the other one was going to the left on the hard foot-path, where his footsteps would drown any slight noise. There! _Maledetto di Dio_--a dry twig broke with a crack under his stealthy foot. He crouched behind the tree--he could not be seen; but the other must have heard it; he stopped--listened, perhaps expecting his antagonist--in any case now no longer unprepared--who knows?--a brave man, an officer--turning about, offering his front to his antagonist. So much the better! Then there would be only a leap from behind the tree! And--he was coming! The Italian's heart throbbed in his throat as he now, advancing his left foot, held himself ready to leap; but the murderous desire had dulled his otherwise sharp senses; the sound of the steps was not toward him but toward the opposite side! When he became aware of his mistake the distance had increased at least twofold--and threefold before he could determine in his amazement what was to be done. To give up the chase! Nothing else remained. The beast was now almost running, and then a belated cab rattled down the street which intersected the avenue, and beyond the street were crossways to the right and left. It was not safe to do the deed; there was no certainty of escape afterwards--the moment was lost--for this time! But next time!--Antonio muttered a fearful curse as he put his stiletto back into its sheath and concealed it in his coat-pocket. [Illustration: THE LOAN-OFFICE _From the Painting by Michael von Munkacsy_ PERMISSION CH. SEDELMEYER, PARIS] The other had vanished; Antonio followed slowly along the same road, out of the park across the Thiergartenstrasse into the Springbrunnenstrasse to the front of the house in which the hated one lived. The windows were brightly illuminated. An equipage came up; an officer and richly gowned ladies, wrapped in their shawls, alighted; a second equipage followed--he was laughing and reveling up there now, and whispering into the ear of one of the fair ladies who had alighted what he had whispered ten minutes before to Ferdinande. If only he could inspire her with the poisonous jealousy which consumed his own heart! If he could bring about something between her and him which would be insurmountable! If he could betray the whole thing to the grim signor, her father, or to the proud general, his father, or to both---- "Hello!" A man coming along the pavement had run into him as he leaned on the iron railing of a front yard, arms folded, and had uttered the exclamation in a harsh voice. "_Scusi!_" said the Italian, lifting his hat. "Beg your pardon!" "Hello!" repeated the man. "Is it you, Antonio?" "O Signor Roller! Mr. Inspector!"