"Poor fellows! Their clothes seem little more than tatters," remarked Marian, as she reëntered the room. "And yet how picturesque they look!" "And how very far from clean!" Added Walter in a low voice. "It would be a charity to make them a present of a bar of soap--if one could feel sure of their using it." Then they began to play. The air, although set to waltz time, was a wild and plaintive one, and not at all like conventional dance music. After listening for a couple of minutes, Marian clapped her hands and cried excitedly: "Papa, don't you remember?" "Remember what, my dear?" "The air they are playing. It's called '_La Strega_,' which"--with a glance at Walter--"being interpreted for the behoof of illiterate people, means 'The Sorceress.'" "So kind of you to enlighten my ignorance!" murmured the young man. Marian turned to her father. "It's the same tune two wandering minstrels played one day ever so long ago on the terrace at Bordighera. And that day you were so gay and light-hearted that you and I danced to it together. Oh, I have not forgotten! And now it's my birthday, and we will dance to it again." "_I_ dance! Madness!" "It's a very delightful kind of madness. Am I not queen today? Do you dare, sir, to dispute any of my behests?" "There's Walter." "It is you, papa, whom I am going to dance with, not that boy. I won't listen to another word. Come! Let us try for a little while to fancy ourselves back in Italy." "What it is to be a slave of a tyrant in petticoats!" He offered no further resistance, but slid an arm round his daughter's waist, and the pair began to waltz to the music. Walter stood looking on from the embrasure of one of the windows. Twice had they gyrated the length of the room and back, when Drelincourt caught sight of Roden Marsh's pale face peering at him through an opening in the portière. The latter had approached unseen and unheard by either of the young folk. For a couple of minutes longer the dancers kept revolving to the music, then, as they again drew near the window where Walter was lounging, Drelincourt beckoned to him to take his place, which the young man did, nothing loath. A second later Drelincourt had disappeared through the portière. "Your news?" said Drelincourt to Roden Marsh, the moment they were alone. "Found guilty and sentenced to death." "So now the curtain is rung up for the last act!" Rodd grasped one of his foster brother's hands in both his, and for a few moments the two stood looking into each other's eyes. Then Drelincourt said, "Come," and with that he led the way to his own room, where there was less likelihood of their being intruded upon. "And of course the judge held out no hope of mercy?" he recommenced, as soon as he had seated himself and motioned Rodd to another chair. "None whatever. The fact of Gumley having confessed to the robbery seemed to be accepted both by judge and jury as conclusive evidence that he must be guilty of the other crime."