Shortly before ten I returned to my vigil and learnt from my friend the porter that the doctor was still _in casa_. Therefore I idled in patience, glancing from time to time up at the windows of the apartment in question. There were lights there, but the green _persiennes_ were still closed, as they had been all day. As the night wore on the street became extra full of idling promenaders, for it was _festa_ and all Rome was out to gossip, to lounge and to obtain a breath of the _bel fresco_. Men were crying the evening newspaper in loud strident tones, and here and there walked the police in couples, with their epaulettes and _festa_ plumes. Before every cafe the chairs overflowed into the roadway, and every table was occupied by men and women, mostly in white cotton clothes, sipping sirops. Rome is cosmopolitan only in winter. Rome is the Roman's Rome in summer, bright, merry and light-hearted by night; silent and lethargic by day--a city indicative of the Italian temperament and the Italian character. I was just about to relinquish my watch, believing that the doctor and his English friend did not intend to come forth that evening, when I suddenly saw Miller in a white linen suit and straw hat emerge from the big doorway into the street, accompanied by a short, black-bearded, dark-faced Italian of about thirty-five, who also wore a straw hat, fashionably-cut suit of dark cloth, and a drab cotton waistcoat across which was a thick gold albert. They turned towards the Piazza Colonna, and I at once followed, keeping them well in sight. The doctor appeared to be something of a dandy, for he carried yellow gloves, notwithstanding the oppressive heat, and the crook of his walking-stick was silver gilt. He wore a red cravat, a high collar, and his jacket was cut narrow at the waist with ample skirts, slit up at the back, and turned-over cuffs. He was a typical Roman elegant, but his face had craft and cunning plainly written upon it. Those dark searching eyes were set too closely together, and although there was a careless, easy-going expression upon his countenance I could see that it was only feigned. What, I wondered, was the urgent business which had brought Mr Miller post-haste from England? Deep in conversation they passed up the Corso for a little distance, then turning at the Puspoli Palace they traversed the small streets leading to the Tiber until they reached the Via di Repetta, up which they continued until they suddenly turned into a narrow, ill-lit, dirty street to the right and disappeared into an uninviting wine-shop, one of those low little drinking-houses which abound in the poorer quarters of Rome. That it was a low neighbourhood I could see at a glance. I had never explored that part of the "Eternal City" before, and had not had time to notice the name of the street.