“You may go, policeman,” said Potts; “my daughter will come with me.” “Faith and I’m glad! It’s the best thing for her;” and the policeman, much relieved, returned to his beat. “Some of you’ll have to pay for them winders,” said the cabman. “All right,” answered Potts, quietly. “There is your home for to-night, at any rate,” said Potts, pointing to the house. “I don’t think you have any chance left. You had better go in.” His tone was one full of bitter taunt. Scarce conscious, with her brain reeling, and her limbs trembling, Beatrice entered the house. CHAPTER XL. DISCOVERIES. The next morning after Beatrice’s last performance Langhetti determined to fulfill his promise and tell her that secret which she had been so anxious to know. On entering into his parlor he saw a letter lying on the table addressed to him. It bore no postage stamp, or post-office mark. He opened it and read the following: “London, September 5,1849. “SIGNORE,--Cigole, the betrayer and intended assassin of your late father, is now in London. You can find out about him by inquiring of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street. As a traitor to the Carbonari, you will know that it is your duty to punish him, even if your filial piety is not strong enough to avenge a father’s wrongs. “CARBONARO.” Langhetti read this several times. Then he called for his landlord. “Who left this letter?” he asked. “A young man.” “Do you know his name?” “No.” “What did he look like?” “He looked like a counting-house clerk more than any thing.” “When was it left?” “About six o’clock this morning.” Langhetti read it over and over. The news that it contained filled his mind. It was not yet ten o’clock. He would not take any breakfast, but went out at once, jumped into a cab, and drove off to Red Lion Street. Giovanni Cavallo’s office was in a low, dingy building, with a dark, narrow doorway. It was one of those numerous establishments conducted and supported by foreigners whose particular business it is not easy to conjecture. The building was full of offices, but this was on the ground-floor. Langhetti entered, and found the interior as dingy as the exterior. There was a table in the middle of the room. Beyond this was a door which opened into a back-room. Only one person was here--a small, bright-eyed man, with thick Vandyke beard and sinewy though small frame. Langhetti took off his hat and bowed. “I wish to see Signore Cavallo,” said he, in Italian. “I am Signore Cavallo,” answered the other, blandly. Langhetti made a peculiar motion with his left arm. The keen eye of the other noticed it in an instant. He returned a gesture of a similar character. Langhetti and he then exchanged some more secret signs. At last Langhetti made one which caused the other to start, and to bow with deep respect.