Saxon had, apparently, picked up upon the
quay; and he had not been on board five minutes
before he betrayed his utter incapacity to handle
a rope. This sailor was Montecuculi.

Himself proscribed and in hourly peril of
recognition, he had been for three days vainly
trying to get Colonna off from his hiding-place
at Cumæ. Finding it impossible, in consequence
of the vigilance of the harbour police, to
make the attempt by sea, he was in the act of
organising an armed expedition by land when
he heard that an English yacht had just come
into port. Going down himself after dark, he
found, to his great joy, that the Albula was Saxon
Trefalden's property, and that Lord Castletowers
was with him at the Hotel Gran' Bretagna.

"I tried to see you last evening," said he, as
they leaned, chatting, over the side of the vessel;
"but though I heard of you at many places, I
could find you at none. This morning, however,
I was determined not to be baffled; so I have
been hanging about the Chiaja ever since
daybreak."

"It was an act of great imprudence on
Colonna's part, to venture over to the mainland
before Garibaldi was in Naples," said the Earl.

"Imprudence! It was madness. Nothing
less. I have been in Naples myself for the last
three weeks, attending the meetings of our
secret societies, and distributing the Dictator's
proclamations; but then I am known only to
our own people, and there is no price upon my
head. I heard some days ago that Colonna had
been seen at Gaeta; but I did not believe it."

"At Gaeta!" repeated the Earl. "Nay, what
could he expect, save danger, in a royalist
stronghold like Gaeta?"

"What, indeed! Ma che volete? He has
been running his head into the lion's mouth all
his life."

"Heaven grant that he may not have done so
once too often!"

"Were it not that no hand on earth could
imitate his writing," said Montecuculi, " I should
have suspected a trap; but of the genuineness of
his note, there can be no doubt."

"How did it reach you?" asked the Earl.

"It was left for me, somewhat mysteriously,
at the little trattoria where I dine. The messenger
was a boy whom nobody knew, and he merely
gave it in without a word, and ran away."

"But what was Signor Colonna doing at
Gaeta?" asked Saxon.

The Italian shrugged his shoulders
significantly.

"Garibaldi has only to enter Naples by one
gate for Francesco to walk out by the other,"
replied he; "and Gaeta gave shelter to the
Pope ten years ago. It is a difficult place to
deal with, and, of course, if it could be gained
over beforehand, our position would be
materially strengthened. But Colonna was not the
man for such an expedition. A less precious
life should have been hazarded."

"I wonder where he is now!" said the Earl
taking an anxious survey of the coast through
his glass.

"I think I can guess," replied Montecuculi.
"You see that volcanic hill lying back yonder
from the shore? That is the Acropolis of
Cumæ; and a regiment might find hiding-room
in the mysterious caves and passages with which
it is perforated in every direction."

"I think I can see them," exclaimed Saxon.
"They look like rabbit-burrows."

"There are hundreds of them—all hewn in
the solid tufa. They were ancient beyond all
record in the time of Virgil; and no one knows
whither they lead, or by what hands they were
excavated."

It was now proposed that Saxon and
Castletowers should land on pretext of sketching,
leaving the Albula at anchor about half a mile
from shore. They put off accordingly in the
small boat, taking Saxon's English sailor with
them, and leaving Montecuculi on board the
yacht.

The shore was flat and marshy, fringed with
tall reeds, and scattered over with fragments of
very ancient masonry. Among these reeds they
moored their boat, and, landing, found
themselves face to face with a Neapolitan sentry.

Up till this moment, no human creature had
been visible along the lonely coast. Scanning it
carefully from the deck of the Albula and detecting
no sign of life for miles on either side, they
had said to each other that nothing would be
easier than to bring off the fugitive in open day;
yet no sooner had they set foot upon the sand
than their friend's danger stood bodily before
them in the shape of an armed sentinel.

The man neither challenged them nor opposed
their landing; but stood by, leaning on his
musket, quiet and observant. Saxon and
Castletowers, on the other hand, with an air of the
utmost unconcern, lit their cigars, and began
looking about for a favourable point of view.

Presently the Earl went up to the sentry, and
addressed him.

"Scusate, amico," said he, "but what hill is
that yonder?"

"E la rocca di Cumæ, signore," replied the
soldier.

"Cumæ? repeated the Earl.

"Si, signore. Cumæ  antico."

"Grazie molte," said Castletowers, and immediately
pulled a book from his pocket, and began,
reading. The book was Childe Harold; but the
last edition of Murray could not have answered
his purpose better. The sentry concluded it was
a guide-book, set down the new comers as
inoffensive tourists, and took no further notice of
them.

They then wandered a little way up the shore
till they came to a clump of pines, in the shade
of which they sat down. Here Saxon, who was,
in truth, no artist, proceeded to make a sketch.

Presently another sentry made his appearance.
Like the first, he seemed to rise out of the very
earth, and yet made no show of watchfulness.