"The Itching Palm. Evidently it had not been properly soothed. Come on; we may run across some of our ship-acquaintances. To-morrow we'll start for Rome, and then we shall add our own investigations to those of the consul." They had ridden up and down the Via Caracciolo twice when they espied a huge automobile, ultramarine blue. It passed with a cloud of dust and a rumble which was thunderous. Hillard half rose from his seat. "Somebody you know?" asked Merrihew. "The man at the wheel looked a bit like Sandford." "Sandford? By George, that would be jolly!" "Perhaps they will come this way again. Tomass', follow that motor." Sure enough, when the car reached the Largo Vittoria, it wheeled and came rumbling back. This time Hillard had no doubts. He stood up and waved his arms. The automobile barked and groaned and came to a stand. "Hello, Sandford!" "Jack Hillard, as I live, and Dan Merrihew! Nell?" turning to one of the three pretty women in the tonneau. "What did I tell you? I felt it in my bones that we would run across some one we knew." "Or over them," his wife laughed. In a foreign land one's flag is no longer eyed negligently and carelessly, as though it possessed no significance; it now becomes a symbol of the soil wherein our hearts first took root. A popular tune we have once scorned, now, when heard, catches us by the throat; the merest acquaintance becomes a long-lost brother; and persons to whom we nod indifferently at home now take the part of tried and true friends. But when we meet an old friend, one who has accepted our dinners and with whom we have often dined, what is left but to fall on his neck and weep? There was, then, over this meeting, much ado with handshaking and compliments, handshaking and questions; and, as in all cases like this, every one talked at once. How was old New York? How was the winter in Cairo? And so forth and so on, till a policeman politely told them that this was not a private thoroughfare, and that they were blocking the way. So they parted, the two young men having promised to dine with the Sandford party that evening. "What luck, Dan!" Hillard was exuberant. "Saves you the price of a dinner." "I wasn't thinking of that. But I shall find out all about her to-night." "Who?" "The Lady in the Fog, the masquerading lady!" "Bah! I should prefer something more solid than a vanishing lady." "Look here, Dan, I never throw cold water on you." "There have been times when it would have done my head good." Sandford knew how to order a dinner; and so by the time that Merrihew had emptied his second glass of Burgundy and his first of champagne, he was in the haze of golden confidence. He would find Kitty, and when he found her he would find her heart as well. "Say, Jack," said Sandford, "what did you mean by that fool cable, anyhow?" Hillard had been patiently waiting for an opening of this sort. "And what did you mean by hoaxing me?" "Hoaxing you?"