The hand that had rested for a moment on his arm was the hand of a gentleman.

The man's face was vaguely, elusively familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him before, he had at least seen his picture.

The man had pretended he could not talk Italian, but--_Scusi_--it came out very pat when it was needed.
An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di Ferara.

He scrambled up the bank and skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he reached the place where his horse was tied.

Two minutes later he was off at a gallop, headed for the house of the prefect of police of Valedolmo..