“‘Have you any further visits to pay?’
“‘I don’t know that I have. I think I must have seen everything—unless you have something further to show me.’
“‘Well, yes,’ said the Count, ‘you may congratulate yourself, for I think I can show you something this evening that will be both novel and distracting.’
“Just suit me, then,” said I, “for you must know, Walter, I was at this time a young hair-brained chap as didn’t care a straw what places I visited, or what risks I ran.”
“I should imagine you to be all that,” returned Knoulton.
“‘Well, we shall see,’ said the Count; ‘I must leave you, for we must not be seen together, and you must leave Rome in the morning, without fail. Not a word of our conversation to anyone. Meet me to-night in front of the Alberti Theatre. Silence, mystery, and may good fortune favour us.’
“Well,” observed the pirate, “I couldn’t quite get the right soundings, so was just going to heave the lead again, when my gentleman walked swiftly away. I walked on, musing on the mysterious sensation which had been promised me by my friend. Reaching my lodgings, I put on my travelling suit, settled my account, and made arrangements for leaving in the morning, according to the count’s instructions. I was at this time a smart young fellow,” added Murdock, “and in every way different to what you see me now. Lord bless us, it appears impossible I can be the same person—but what have I not gone through since then?”
“Ah, time changes the best of us,” observed his companion. “It will effect a wonderful alteration in me, no doubt, as years go on.”
The pirate made no reply, but remained silent for some little time, and Knoulton was under the impression that he was too weak to continue his narrative. Such, however, was not the case, for after a somewhat lengthy pause, he renewed his story.
“As soon as it was dark,” said Murdock, “I directed my steps to the Alberta Theatre. It was about eight o’clock.