"Then come in--come in. They've been expecting you these two days." She closed the door behind and led the way through the barely furnished hall into a back sitting-room on the left, which contained a little furniture of a kind to suggest that it had been purchased on the instalment system. He seated himself, wondering who were the persons by whom he was expected. When his guide had gone he strained his ears to catch any sound of the woman's voice which he had heard raised in distress after his first knock at the door. But all was silent. Only the paraffin lamp on the table with its shade of crimson paper spluttered as it burned low, for it was now about half-past two in the morning. The association of ideas caused him to recollect all he had ever heard about strange nocturnal adventures met with by men in unknown houses in the suburbs; and as he sat awaiting the arrival of the persons who apparently took such a deep interest in his welfare he could not help becoming a prey to misgivings. Suddenly he heard low whisperings out in the hall, and some words, distinct and ominous reached him. "Well, if it must be, I suppose it must," he heard a voice say. "But recollect I am no party to such a thing." A low, sarcastic laugh was the sole answer to this protest. The next instant the door opened, and there entered two men, one young, tall, and muscular, with an ugly scar across his lower jaw, and the other very old, feeble, and white-haired. Both were foreigners. Chisholm knew they were Italians before either of them spoke. "Buona sera!" exclaimed the elder man, greeting the visitor in a squeaky voice. "You are the Signor Chisholm, and the English signorina in Florence has sent you to us. Benissimo! We have been awaiting you these two days. I presume our friend Marucci has only just arrived in London." "He arrived this evening," said Chisholm. "But before we go further may I not know who it is I have the pleasure of addressing?" "My name is Sisto Bernini. Our friend here," he added, indicating his companion, "is Tonio Rocchi." The younger man, a dark-eyed, black-haired, rather handsome fellow grinned with satisfaction. Chisholm glanced at him, but was not reassured. There was a strange mystery about the whole affair. "You have been sent to us because you desire to avoid the police, and escape from England," the old man continued. "To get you away is difficult, very difficult, because you are a man so extremely well-known. We often assist our own countrymen to get, safely back to Italy after any little fracas, but with you it is very different." "And by what means are you able to get them secretly out of the country?" inquired Chisholm, much interested in this newly discovered traffic. "By various means. Sometimes as stowaways; at others, in our own fishing-smack from one or other of the villages along the south coast. There are a dozen different ways." "And are none safe for me?" The old man shook his head dubiously.