The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 162: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

546 A CONSPIRACY OF THE CATACOMBS, club, I think you call it—of somewhat advanced views for this country. In your so happy land of the free, we should meet and discuss in the open, and all would praise us. | Here we must hide underground for fear of the police. I am sure we have your sympathy. Now you tell me you do not understand Italian. There is nothing strange in that. Most of your countrymen have the same lack. But because of our position you will see that we must observe great caution. You will therefore be watched. Our society is large. You need have no uneasiness. If you are what you represent yo urself, it will be quickly shown. But if, for instance, we should learn that you do speak Italian, then we should know that you have deceived us and must be a spy sent by the police. And it might fare ill with you. Our people have hot heads. ’’ Safford did not flinch, but accepted the conditions with apparent cheer- fulness. He was too weak to walk, so two of the conspirators carried him between them. They proceeded thus for a long distance—miles it seemed to Safford—find- ing their way by marks on the wall, so slight as to be hardly noticeable. At last they reached a staircase with a trap door at the top, which being opened admitted them to the cellar of a house. They gave Safford food and water and treated him with considerable kindness. When he seemed to be sutf- ficiently revived, a cab was sent for and he was helped into it. ‘Good luck, my friend,’’ said his excellency with a courteous bow. “It goes without saying that you are not to mention your meeting with us. Per- haps, since people would wonder how you escaped, you had better not refer to your trip to the catacombs at all. I don’t think our watchers will bother you. You will hardly be aware of them. ‘They are everywhere. It might be the friend you meet in the street, the boy who waits on you at the table, or the old woman who sells you a nosegay. We have wide ramifications. Delighted to have served you! ‘The driver awaits his directions.’’ ‘“If you would add to your other kindnesses by telling him to drive me to No. 305 via Torino, I should be deeply obliged. ”’ His excellency gave the desired directions, and Safford breathed freer as the cab drove off. Not that his difficulties were over by any means. He hac. not dared give his true address, for he had lodgings with a worthy widow who spoke no word but Italian, and whom he had known for years. His knowledge of Italian . would be straightway betrayed if he went there. Even if he felt sure enough of his landlady to take her into his confidence, there were the servants, the other lodgers, the children next door, the chestnut vender at the corner. They all knew him and all would hail him asan old friend in Italian. He had therefore given the address of an English pension where he was not personally known and where he devoutly trusted he would find a vacant room. Of course if the conspirators’ spies chose to inquire, they would find out that was not his previous residence, but this seemed to him the lesser risk. The prim English spinster who presided over the establishment looked GEomichbooks 3