“I advise you,” I said, “to give the bill to your landlord, who will cash it at M. Sassi’s and bring you your change.” “I will follow your advice,” he said, and I therewith returned to Florence. I thought no more of it, but in two days’ time I received a visit from M. Sassi and the landlord of the inn at Pistoia. The banker shewed me the bill of exchange, and said that the person who had given it me had deceived me, as it was not in the writing of the Englishman whose name it bore, and that even if it were, the Englishman not having any money with Sassi could not draw a bill of exchange. “The inn-keeper here,” said he, “discounted the bill, the Russian has gone off, and when I told him that it was a forgery he said that he knew Charles Ivanoff had it of you, and that thus he had made no difficulty in cashing it; but now he wants you to return him two hundred crowns.” “Then he will be disappointed!” I told all the circumstances of the affair to Sassi; I shewed him the rascal’s letter; I made Dr. Vannini, who had given it me, come up, and he said he was ready to swear that he had seen me take the bill of exchange out of the letter, that he had examined it, and had thought it good. On this the banker told the inn-keeper that he had no business to ask me to pay him the money; but he persisted in his demand, and dared to say that I was an accomplice of the Russian’s. In my indignation I ran for my cane, but the banker held me by the arm, and the impertinent fellow made his escape without a thrashing. “You had a right to be angry,” said M. Sassi, “but you must not take any notice of what the poor fellow says in his blind rage.” He shook me by the hand and went out. Next day the chief of police, called the auditor at Florence, sent me a note begging me to call on him. There was no room for hesitation, for as a stranger I felt that I might look on this invitation as an intimation. He received me very politely, but he said I should have to repay the landlord his two hundred crowns, as he would not have discounted the bill if he had not seen me bring it. I replied that as a judge he could not condemn me unless he thought me the Russian’s accomplice, but instead of answering he repeated that I would have to pay. “Sir,” I replied, “I will not pay.” He rang the bell and bowed, and I left him, walking towards the banker’s, to whom I imparted the conversation I had had from the auditor. He was extremely astonished, and at my request called on him to try and make him listen to reason. As we parted I told him that I was dining with the Abbe Gama. When I saw the abbe I told him what had happened, and he uttered a loud exclamation of astonishment. “I foresee,” he said, “that the auditor will not let go his hold, and if M. Sassi does not succeed with him I advise you to speak to Marshal Botta.” “I don’t think that will be necessary; the auditor can’t force me to pay.” “He can do worse.” “What can he do?”. “He can make you leave Florence.”