the second four servants and a quantity of baggage. As it
chanced there was no one about, the courtyard slept its sunny
noontide sleep, and the only movement was a lizard on the wall
and a buzz of flies by the fountain. Seeing no sign of the
landlord, one of the travellers approached me with a grave
inclination.

"This is the inn called the Tre Croci, sir?" he asked.

I said it was, and shouted on my own account for the host.
Presently that personage arrived with a red face and a short
wind, having ascended rapidly from his own cellar. He was awed
by the dignity of the travellers, and made none of his usual
protests of incapacity. The servants filed off solemnly with the
baggage, and the four gentlemen set themselves down beside me in
the loggia and ordered each a modest flask of wine.

At first I took them for our countrymen, but as I watched them
the conviction vanished. All four were tall and lean beyond the
average of mankind. They wore suits of black, with antique
starched frills to their shirts; their hair was their own and
unpowdered. Massive buckles of an ancient pattern adorned their
square-toed shoes, and the canes they carried were like the yards
of a small vessel. They were four merchants, I had guessed, of
Scotland, maybe, or of Newcastle, but their voices were not
Scotch, and their air had no touch of commerce. Take the
heavy-browed preoccupation of a Secretary of State, add the
dignity of a bishop, the sunburn of a fox-hunter, and something
of the disciplined erectness of a soldier, and you may perceive
the manner of these four gentlemen. By the side of them my