Two hours later I was back with Lola and Madame Duperre at the Hotel Victoria at Pisa. Coming from the lips of any other than those of Fra Pacifico I should have suspected that the Marchesa Romanelli had once done him some evil turn. Yet when a man renounces the world and enters the cloisters, he puts aside all jealousies and thought of injury, and lives a life of devotion and of strictest piety. Fra Pacifico was a man I much admired, and whose word I accepted without query. Next day Lola was inquisitive as to my visit to the monastery, but I was compelled to keep my own counsel, and that evening we all three took the night express to Rome, arriving at the Grand at nine o'clock after a dusty and sleepless journey, for the _wagons-lit_ which run over the Maremma marshes roll and rock until sleep becomes quite impossible. With the Eternal City Lola was delighted, though it was out of the season and the deserted streets were like furnaces. Still, I was able to drive her out to see some of the antiquities which I had myself visited half a dozen times before. My notes included the name of a man named Enrico Prati, who lived humbly in the Via d'Aranico, and one evening, two days after our arrival, I called upon him. Lola had been anxious that I should stay for a small dance in the hotel, but I had been compelled to plead business, for, as a matter of fact, I had become filled with curiosity regarding the mission of inquiry upon which I had been sent. Prati kept a wine-shop, an obscure place which did not inspire confidence. He was a beetle-browed fellow, short, with deep-set furtive eyes, and he struck me as being a thief--or perhaps a receiver of stolen property. The atmosphere of the place seemed mysterious and forbidding. I told him that I had come from "The Golden Face." At mention of the name he started and instantly became obsequious. By that I knew that he had some connection with the gang. Then I demanded of him what he knew of the mysterious Marchesa Romanelli, adding that I had come from England to obtain the information which "The Golden Face" knew he could furnish. I saw that I was dealing with a clever thief who carried on his criminal activities under the guise of a dealer of wines. "Yes, signore," he said. "I know the Marchesa. She is a leader of smart society, both here and in Naples. During the war she spent a large sum of money in establishing her fine hospital out at Porta Milvio. She was foremost in arranging charity concerts, bazaars, and other things in aid of those blinded at the war. Could such a wealthy patriotic woman, whose husband is one of Italy's most famous admirals, possibly be anything other than honest and upright?" His reply took me aback, until his sinister face broadened into a smile. Then I said: