"Afterward, like every prudent general, I shall be guided by events. Come, now; we'll go down to the beach, and you shall dab your eyes with salt-water." "Is that a recipe to cure red eyes?" "It's an excuse for blue ones showing a red tint." The girl smiled pathetically. "Somehow," she said, "I always feel comforted after a talk with you. You haven't known it, Mr. Power; for I have been forced to conceal my troubles; but every time we meet you send me away in a more assured frame of mind." She, in turn, did not know that he winced as if she had struck him. Truly, he was paying a heavy reckoning for the frenzy and passion of those far-off days in the Adirondacks, and, worst of all, the seeming ashes of that ardent fire threatened to blaze out anew. As they walked back to the village they encountered a well-dressed man, a stranger. By this time Power was so thoroughly acquainted with the little hamlet's inhabitants that he recognized some by name and all by sight; but this man was unknown to him. That evening Howard said, "By the way, you remember an inquiry from Mowlem & Son, New York? The man who made it was in the village today. I saw him, soon after Miss Marten and you strolled on to the beach." Power described the stranger, and Howard identified him; but the matter was dismissed as a trivial coincidence. Indeed, Power had affairs of moment to occupy him. Dacre, it appeared, was primed with facts concerning the Principe del Montecastello. "His people are the famous Lombardy bankers," he said. "I have an idea, based on ethnological theories, that they belonged originally to one of the ten tribes; but they were ennobled during the seventeenth century, and remained highly orthodox Blacks till the present king came to the throne, when they 'verted to the Whites.[A] I believe that this change came about owing to their association with Marten in an Italian loan. Anyhow, the existing scion of the princely house is rather a bad hat. Why are you interested in him?" [A] The Papal and Constitutional parties in Italy are often differentiated thus briefly. "He is a suitor for the hand of a young lady whose welfare I have at heart." "Not Nancy?" "Yes." "The devil he is!" and Dacre expressed his sentiments freely. "Why, I'd prefer she married our local road-mender; because then, at least, she would have a decent, clean-minded husband. Marten must be losing grip. Confound it! Why doesn't he go to Paris or Naples, and find out this fellow's antecedents? I feel it's absurd to doubt you, but can you really trust your informant?" "I have it from Nancy's own lips." "Oh, dash it all! Can nothing be done to stop it?" "Much, I hope. Tell Howard what you know, and he will start for the Continent at once to verify it. Meanwhile, may I invite a friend to come here tomorrow?"