It was in the early afternoon following our leaving Paris that we reached Naples. By this time, in spite of our endeavours to prevent it, Miss Kitwater was quite tired out. She certainly pretended not to be, but it was difficult, if not impossible, for her to conceal the fact. Immediately on arrival we conveyed her to the best hotel, of the proprietor of which, Leglosse had already made inquiries, in order to find out whether or not Hayle had taken up his abode there.

It was with relief that we discovered that no person answering at all to his description was located there. That done we commenced our search for the man we wanted. We decided to first try the offices of the various steamers plying across the Mediterranean to Port Said. Considerably to our amazement, however, we happened to be successful at the first cast. A man signing himself Henry Gifford had applied for a first-class passage to Colombo, with the intention of changing at that port into another steamer for Hong Kong.

“What was he like?” I inquired of the clerk; “and did anything strike you as peculiar about him or his appearance?”

“Well, there was one thing,” he said. “And at the time I must say I thought it funny. When I asked him his name, he began ‘Gideon,’ and then suddenly corrected himself and said ‘Henry Gifford.’ I remember wondering whether he was using a false name or not. He booked his passage at the last moment, and seemed in a great hurry to get aboard being afraid he would miss the boat.”

I questioned him as to the man’s general appearance, and when I had learned all he had to tell us, I was perfectly satisfied in my own mind that Hayle was the man who had gone aboard.

“He didn’t lose much time,” said Leglosse. “Mark my words, he’ll leave the steamer at Port Said, and will either come back on his own tracks, or go up the Palestine Coast to Jaffa, and thence back to Europe. What do you think is the best thing to be done?”

“See the agent of the company here and get him to telegraph to Port Said,” I answered. “Both to their agent there and the captain of the steamer. If the captain telegraphs back that Gifford is our man, we must wire to the police authorizing them to detain him pending our arrival. There is a bit of risk attached to it, but if we want to catch him we must not think of that.”

We accordingly interviewed the agent and placed the case before him. We told him who we were, and Leglosse explained to him that he held a warrant for the arrest of one Gideon Hayle, an individual whom he had every reason to believe was endeavouring to escape under the assumed name of Henry Gifford. The clerk was next called in, and gave his evidence, and these matters having been settled, the telegrams were despatched to both the captain and the agent.

Some four days we knew must certainly elapse before we could receive a reply, and that time was devoted to searching the city for Kitwater and Codd. That they had not booked passages in the same boat in which Hayle had sailed, we soon settled to our satisfaction. In that case we knew that they must be domiciled in Naples somewhere. In the intervals between our search Leglosse and I used our best endeavours to make Miss Kitwater enjoy her stay. We took her to Pompeii, climbed Vesuvius together, visited Capri, Ischia, the Great Museum, the King’s Palace, and dined together every evening. I had not been acquainted with the girl much more than a fortnight, and yet I felt as if I had known her all my life, and the greater my experience of her was, the better I liked her. As for Leglosse, he outdid himself in his devotion. He made the most extraordinary toilets in her honour, and on one occasion went even so far as to inform me that, if all Englishwomen were like this particular specimen, he would say good-bye to his beloved Paris, and cross the Channel never to return again.

At last the eventful day arrived, and from nine till twelve we called repeatedly at the office for the telegram that was to mean so much to us. It was not, however, until the afternoon was well advanced that a message was received. I could have taken my stick to the agent for the slowness with which he opened the envelope. The clerk was called in, the code translated, and the message presently transcribed.

This, gentlemen, he said at last, pointing to the telegram, is from our agent in Port Said, and is as follows

“Gifford, small man, grey hair, and wears spectacles. No scar on face, cannot find first-class passenger with one. Fear you have been deceived.”

“Confound the fellow,” I cried, “he’s done us again. What’s worse, we’ve wasted four precious days waiting for this message. What shall we do now?”

“Look for him elsewhere,” said Leglosse. “If he didn’t go by that boat, he might have left by another.”

We thanked the agent for his courtesy, and were about to leave the office when another telegram was handed in. We waited to see whether it was from the captain, and presently found that we were not destined to be disappointed. Once more the agent consulted his code, transcribed the message, and read it to us.

“Have interviewed Gifford, threatened him with the police for using passage booked by another person. He confesses having been induced by stranger such as you describe to accept passage Colombo. How shall I act?”

“We’ve been done again,” I cried, bringing my fist down with a thump upon the table. “It’s only another proof of Hayle’s cleverness. The ingenuous rascal books his passage here, knowing very well that it will be one of the first places at which we shall make inquiries, lets fall a ‘Gideon’, and then transfers his ticket to somebody else. I suppose he didn’t bargain for my getting out of that house in time to follow him, and to telegraph to Port Said. Now that we are certain that he did not go that way, we must try and find out in what direction he did proceed.”

“And also what has become of the blind man and his companion,” said Leglosse. “They may be hot upon his trail, and if we can only discover them, and keep an eye on them, we may find out all we want to know. But it is likely to prove a difficult task.”

We tried the various shipping offices, without success. We called at every hotel, important or otherwise, questioned the City Police, who assured us they had seen nothing of the men we described and finally were compelled to own ourselves thoroughly well beaten. Leglosse’s face was the picture of despair, and I fear mine was not much better. We inserted advertisements in the papers, but with no more luck than before. From the moment the trio had entered Naples, they seemed to have vanished entirely. Then one evening, a ragged little urchin called at the hotel and asked to see us. In reply to our questions, he informed us that he had seen two Englishmen only the day before, such as the police said we were inquiring for; one of them was blind, the other dumb. Indeed he was sure of this, for the reason that he had carried their bag for them down to the harbour whence the Palermo boat sailed. We pricked up our ears on hearing this. If his story was correct, and Kitwater and Codd had visited Sicily, then without a doubt Hayle must have gone there too. But we had no desire to allow ourselves to be taken in again. It might be another of Hayle’s tricks, and for this reason we questioned the boy more closely; he adhered, however, to his story without a variation. His description of the men was perfect in every respect, and he assured us most emphatically that he knew nothing of any individual with such a scar upon his face as Hayle possessed. At last we became convinced that his story was genuine, and we rewarded the boy accordingly. After he had disappeared we informed Miss Kitwater of the discovery we had made.

“You will follow them to Palermo?”

“Assuredly, mademoiselle,” Leglosse replied. “I have my duty to perform.”

“Then I must go with you,” she answered. “If he is on the island the chase must be drawing to a close, and I must be present to protect him, if possible, against himself.”

Accordingly next morning, for the steamer for that day had long since sailed, we set out for the kingdom of Sicily, that gem among Islands, as Goethe terms it. It was the first time Miss Kitwater had seen the southern coast, and for this reason I made her promise that she would rise early next morning in order that she might witness our approach to the far-famed island. This she did, and side by side we watched the vessel draw closer to the land. Away to the west lay the island of Ustica, its outline sharply defined in the clear morning air.

“How beautiful it all is!” she said, “and to think that we are sailing such lovely seas upon such an errand.”

“You must try not to think about it,” I said. “’Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ Let us hope that it will all come right in the end. If only Leglosse can get hold of Hayle first, your uncle cannot possibly do him any harm, however much disposed he may be that way. Between us we ought to be able to manage that.”

Shortly after breakfast we obtained our first glimpse of Sicily. It was a scene never to be forgotten. The blue seas, the towering mountains rising apparently out of it, made up a picture that was lovely beyond compare. Presently we steamed into the harbour, and made our way to the Dogana, where our luggage was examined. Here we commenced our inquiries concerning Kitwater and Codd, and had the satisfaction of learning, on undeniable authority, that the story the boy had told us was correct. Such terrible infirmities as theirs could scarcely fail to attract notice, and more than one of the officials remembered seeing and commiserating them. On leaving the Dogana, they had travelled to the city by cab, so we were informed.

“The man who drove them is outside now,” said one of them. “Perhaps the senor would care to question him.”

I replied that I should like very much to do so, and we accordingly went out into the street together. It appeared that the cabman remembered his fares perfectly, the more so by reason of the fact that the blind man had sworn at him for not using greater speed in reaching the city. He had driven them to some furnished lodgings kept by his cousin, he said, and was proceeding to recommend them to us, when I cut him short by informing him that we had already decided upon a hotel. We thereupon entered the vehicle, he mounted the box, and we set off. From the moment that we had set foot ashore Miss Kitwater had been growing more and more nervous. When it was taken into consideration that before nightfall some very unpleasant things might happen, I do not think this fact is to be wondered at. I pitied her from the bottom of my heart, and was prepared to do all that lay in my power to help her. It was a strange change for her, from the quiet little village of Bishopstowe, to the pursuit of a criminal across Europe to an island in the Mediterranean.

“And when it is over?” was the question I asked myself on numerous occasions. “What is going to happen then? I suppose I shall bid her good-bye, she will thank me for the trouble I have taken, and then our acquaintance will be at an end.”

After that it had become my habit to heave a prodigious sigh, and to wonder whether she could ever be induced to

But somehow I never got much further with my speculations. Was it likely she would ever think twice of me? She was invariably kind and thoughtful; she deferred to me on everything, and seemed to think my opinions and actions must of necessity be right. Apart from that I felt certain I had made no other impression upon her.

“Now, mon ami,” said Leglosse, when we had installed ourselves at our hotel, “I think it would be better that you should efface yourself for a time. None of the men we are after know me, but Hayle and Codd would both recognize you at once. Let me go into the town to make a few inquiries, and if they are satisfactory we shall know how to act. Do your best to amuse mademoiselle, and I will hasten back to you as soon as I have anything to tell.”

Upon my consenting to this arrangement he set off, leaving me free to devote myself to the amusement of Miss Kitwater. As soon as she joined me we made our way into the garden of the hotel, and seating ourselves on a comfortable bench, spent the remainder of the morning basking in the sunshine, and watching the exquisite panorama that was spread out before us.

“I wonder what they are doing at Bishopstowe now?” I said, and a moment later wished I had held my tongue.

“Poor little Bishopstowe,” my companion answered. “How thankful I shall be to get safely back to it! I don’t think I shall ever want to travel again.”

“Ah! you cannot tell,” I replied. “You are seeing the world just now under very unfavourable auspices. Some day perhaps you will follow the same route under conditions as happy as these are the reverse.”

I think she must have guessed to what I referred, for her face flushed a little, and she hastily diverted the conversation into another channel, by drawing my attention to a picturesque sailing-boat which at that moment was entering the harbour. I tried to entice her back to the subject later, but she would plainly have none of it. Only once did she refer to it, and that was when we were making our way back to the hotel to lunch. I stated my fear lest she should find all this running about from place to place tiring for her.

“You need not be afraid of that,” she answered. “I am very strong, and am not easily tired. Besides, you have been so good and kind, Mr. Fairfax, and have done so much to ensure my comfort, that, if only out of gratitude to you, I could not very well be fatigued. I think you know how grateful I am to you, do you not?”

As she said this she looked up at me with her beautiful trusting eyes, and so overwhelmed me that it was as much as I could do to keep back the words that rose to the tip of my tongue. I answered her to the effect that I had only done my best to promote her comfort, and was about to say something further, when Leglosse made his appearance before us. There was a look of great satisfaction upon his face.

“I think I know now all that there is to know,” he said. “If mademoiselle will excuse me, I will tell it. Monsieur Hayle arrived here some five days ago, and has taken possession of a charming villa some ten miles from the city. It is situated on the coast and the agent declares it to be unique. How long he intends to occupy it, he, the agent, could not say, but he has paid a high rent for it in advance, which appears to have given unlimited satisfaction. The other two men are still prowling about the city in search of him, but so far they have not been successful in their endeavours.”

“Could I not go to my uncle?” Miss Kitwater inquired. “It might be possible for me to persuade him to leave the island without seeing this wretched man.”

“I fear it would be useless,” I answered. “And you would only cause yourself unnecessary pain. No! what we must do is to communicate with the Palermo police: Leglosse can show them his warrant, and then we must endeavour to get Hayle under lock and key, and then out of the island, without waste of time. That is the best course, believe me.”

“If all goes well, I shall make the arrest to-night,” said Leglosse, and then added, “I must get back to Paris as soon as possible.”

That afternoon he went out once more, this time to interview the police authorities. At five o’clock he returned in a state of great excitement.

“The other two have discovered Hayle’s whereabouts,” he said, when we were alone together. “And they have set off in pursuit. They have been gone more than an hour, and, unless we start at once, we shall be too late to take him before they run him to earth.”

“Good Heavens! Are you quite sure of this?”

“As sure as I can be of anything,” he answered. “I have been to their house.”

“Do not say anything about this to Miss Kitwater,” I said hurriedly. “We must make the best excuse we can to account for our absence.”

I tried to do this, but she saw through my endeavour.

“You are going to arrest him, I can see,” she said. “Poor unhappy man! But there, I would rather that should happen than he and my uncle should meet. Go, Mr. Fairfax, and I pray God you may be successful.”

Leglosse had already engaged a cab, and when I joined him I discovered that he had also brought a Sicilian police official with him. This individual gave the driver his instructions, and away we went. As we had informed the cabman, previous to setting out, that there was no time to be lost, we covered the distance in fine style, and just as the sun was sinking behind the mountains entered the little village on the outskirts of which the villa was situated. It was a delightful spot, a mere cluster of human habitations, clinging to the mountain-side. The Angelus was sounding from the campanile of the white monastery, further up the hill-side as we drove along the main street. Leaving the village behind us we passed on until we came to the gates of the park in which the villa was situated. We had already formed our plans, and it was arranged that the island official should send his name in to Hayle, Leglosse and I keeping in the background as much as possible. We descended from the carriage and Leglosse rang the bell which we discovered on the wall; presently the door was opened, and a wizened-up little man made his appearance before us. An animated conversation ensued, from which it transpired that the new occupant of the villa was now in the pavilion at the foot of the grounds.

“In that case conduct us to him,” said the officer, “but remember this, we desire to approach without being seen. Lead on!”

The old man obeyed and led us by a winding path through the orangery for upwards of a quarter of a mile. At the end of that walk we saw ahead of us a handsome white edifice, built of stucco, and of the summer-house order. It stood on a small plateau on the first slope of the cliff and commanded an exquisite view of the bay, the blue waters of which lay some two hundred feet or so below it.

“His Excellency is in there,” said the old man, in his Sicilian patois.

“Very good, in that case you can leave us,” said the officer, “we can find our way to him ourselves.”

The old man turned and left us, without another word, very well pleased, I fancy, to get out of the way of that functionary. Goodness only knows what memories of stolen vegetables and fruit had risen in his mind.

“Before we go in,” I said, “would it not be as well to be prepared for any emergencies? Remember he is not a man who would stick at much.”

We accordingly arranged our plan of attack in case it should be necessary, and then approached the building. As we drew nearer the sound of voices reached our ears. At first I was not able to recognize them, but as we ascended the steps to the pavilion, I was able to grasp the real facts of the case.

“Good Heavens!” I muttered to myself, “that’s Kitwater’s voice.” Then turning to Leglosse, I whispered, “We’re too late, they’re here before us.”

It certainly was Kitwater’s voice I had heard, but so hoarse with fury that at any other time I should scarcely have recognized it.

“Cover him, Codd,” he was shouting, “and if he dares to move shoot him down like the dog he is. You robbed us of our treasure, did you? And you sneaked away at night into the cover of the jungle, and left us to die or to be mutilated by those brutes of Chinese. But we’ve run you down at last, and now when I get hold of you, by God, I’ll tear your eyes and your tongue out, and you shall be like the two men you robbed and betrayed. Keep your barrel fixed on him, Codd, I tell you! Remember if he moves you are to fire. Oh! Gideon Hayle, I’ve prayed on my bended knees for this moment, and now it’s come and

At this moment we entered the room to find Hayle standing with his back to the window that opened into the balcony, which in its turn overlooked the somewhat steep slope that led to the cliff and the sea. Codd was on the left of the centre table, a revolver in his hand, and a look upon his face that I had never seen before. On the other side of the table was Kitwater, with a long knife in his hand. He was leaning forward in a crouching position, as if he were preparing for a spring. On hearing our steps, however, he turned his sightless face towards us. It was Hayle, however, who seemed the most surprised. He stared at me as if I were a man returned from the dead.

“Put up that revolver, Codd,” I cried. “And you, Kitwater, drop that knife. Hayle, my man, it’s all up. The game is over, so you may as well give in.”

Leglosse was about to advance upon him, warrant in one hand and manacles in the other.

“What does this mean?” cried Hayle.

His voice located him, and before we could either of us stop him, Kitwater had sprung forward and clutched him in his arms. Of what followed next I scarcely like to think, even now. In cannoning with Hayle he had dropped his knife, and now the two stood while a man could have counted three, locked together in deadly embrace. Then ensued such a struggle as I hope I shall never see again, while we others stood looking on as if we were bound hand and foot. The whole affair could not have lasted more than a few moments, and yet it seemed like an eternity. Kitwater, with the strength of a madman, had seized Hayle round the waist with one arm, while his right hand was clutching at the other’s throat. I saw that the veins were standing out upon Hayle’s forehead like black cords. Do what he could, he could not shake off the man he had so cruelly wronged. They swayed to and fro, and in one of their lurches struck the window, which flew open and threw them into the balcony outside. Codd and the Sicilian police official gave loud cries, but as for me I could not have uttered a sound had my life depended on it. Hayle must have realized his terrible position, for there was a look of abject, hopeless terror upon his face. The blind man, of course, could see nothing of his danger. His one desire was to be revenged upon his enemy. Closer and closer they came to the frail railing. Once they missed it, and staggered a foot away from it. Then they came back to it again, and lurched against it. The woodwork snapped, and the two men fell over the edge on to the sloping bank below. Still locked together they rolled over and over, down the declivity towards the edge of the cliff. A great cry from Hayle reached our ears. A moment later they had disappeared into the abyss, while we stood staring straight before us, too terrified to speak or move.

Leglosse was the first to find his voice.

“My God!” he said, “how terrible! how terrible!”

Then little Codd sank down, and, placing his head upon his hands on the table, sobbed like a little child.

“What is to be done?” I asked, in a horrified whisper.

“Go down to the rocks and search for them,” said the Sicilian officer, “but I doubt if we shall be able to find them; the sea is very deep off this point.”

We went! Kitwater’s body we discovered, terribly mutilated upon the rocks. Hayle’s remains were never found. Whether he fell into the deep water and was washed out to sea, or whether his body was jammed between the rocks under the water, no one would ever be able to say. It was gone, and with it all that were left of the stones that had occasioned their misery.

Codd did not accompany us in the search, and when we returned to the villa above he was not to be found. Never since the moment when we left him sobbing at the table have I set eyes on him, and now, I suppose, in all human probability I never shall.

Later on we returned to Palermo to break the news to Miss Kitwater. Shocked though she was, she received the tidings with greater calmness than I had expected she would do. Perhaps, after all, she felt that it was better that it should have ended so.

Three years have elapsed since we paid that terrible visit to Palermo. It may surprise you, or it may not, when I say that I am now a married man, Margaret Kitwater having consented to become my wife two years ago next month. The only stipulation she made when she gave her decision was that upon my marriage I should retire from the profession in which I had so long been engaged. As I had done sufficiently well at it to warrant such a step, I consented to do so, and now I lead the life of a country gentleman. It may interest some people to know that a certain day-dream, once thought so improbable, has come true, inasmuch as a considerable portion of my time is spent in the little conservatory which, as I have said elsewhere, leads out of the drawing-room. I usually wear a soft felt hat upon my head, and as often as not I have a pipe in my mouth. Every now and then Margaret, my wife, looks in upon me, and occasionally she can be persuaded to bring a young Fairfax with her, who, some people say, resembles his father. For my own part I prefer that he should be like his mother whom, very naturally, I consider the best and sweetest woman in the world.