But the man to whom he had spoken staggered and seemed about to fall--his pale face grew paler--he moved away through the curious open-eyed by-standers with the mechanical air of one who knows not whether he be alive or dead.

He had evidently received an unexpected shock--a wound that pierced deeply and would be a long time healing.
I approached the nearest gendarme and slipped a five-franc piece into his hand.
"May one speak ?" I asked, carelessly.

The man hesitated.
"For one instant, signor.

But be brief." I addressed the brigand in a low clear-tone.
"Have you any message for one Andrea Luziani?
I am a friend of his." He looked at me and a dark smile crossed his features.
"Andrea is a good soul.

Tell him if you will that Teresa is dead.