The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

A CONSPIRACY OF THE CA’TACOMBS. 547 somewhat askance at the seedy individual without baggage who wanted a room immediately, but as Safford fortunately had enough money in his pocket to pay a week’s board in advance, he was allowed to stay. The next two days he spent for the most part in bed, going out only after dark to make a few purchases absolutely necessary to his comfort, lest he should run across one of his numerous Roman acquaintances. Meantime, fearing that his landlady would become alarmed at his absence and raise such a hue and cry as to reach the ears of the conspirators, Safford wrote her that he had been unexpectedly called out of town and asked her to pack his be- longings and express them to him in Florence. It was his intention to fol- low them himself as soon as he was able to stand the journey. As his physical strength came back to him, he became more and more disturbed by the secret to which he had fallen heir, and revolved various plans for saving the king without sacrificing himself. He did not dare hold any direct communication with the Italian authorities, for knowing he was watched, he felt confident he would be murdered or kidnapped before he had a chance to tell his story. He finally decided to go to the American consul and lay the case before him. From there he intended driving direct to the station, taking the train for | Florence, and shaking the dust of the eternal city from his feet. The consul, who did not know him personally, did not seem very much impressed by the story. He consented, however, to send for a notary to take down Safford’s deposition and promised to place it without delay in the hands of the authorities. Glancing at his watch as he went out, he saw he had barely time to catch the Florentine train. ‘Drive to the station as fast as you can,’’ he cried tothe driver, jumping into the carriage. He was not fairly seated before he became aware that something was wrong. ‘This was not his carriage. Neither was it like any carriage he had ever seen. It had no windows! He tried the doors, and was scarcely surprised to fiad them locked. He shouted at the top of his voice for assist- ance. But since he could hear none of the noises of the street, it was not likely his cries would reach the outside world. He thumped and pounded in all directions, but nothing gave way. There was no escape. He was securely trapped. They were moving rapidly. This much they could tell by the jolts. Safford had no doubt that he was traveling to his death. ‘The drive seemed eternal. It really lasted a couple of hours—no short time to one in Safford’s frame of mind. : When the carriage stopped and the door was opened, a pistol was placed at his head, he was blindfolded and led by the hand. It was already night, so he had seen nothing in the interval before his eyes were bandaged, but the extreme freshness and coolness of the air convinced him that he was not only in the country, but on a hill top. He was led into a house, evidently a spacious one from the size of the rooms traversed, and finally down a flight of stone steps. Some one gave him a little push, the men who led GOMIchoOoksneo