"'But I command you to say more.'
"My tone—perhaps my movements also—implied a vague threat of violence. But the landlord did not wait for me to lay hands on him. He fled, as the chambermaid had fled; but he slammed the door after him and turned the key and locked me in. Then he called through the key-hole—
"'Will the signor forgive me? It is the only way. I will arrange for the signor's safety before the Camorra——'
"I heard no more, for I was hanging on to the knob, rattling the door, and kicking at the panels.
"They would not yield, being solid, as though built in the old days when any house might be required at any time to stand a siege. I assailed the door, first with a chair, and then with a wash-hand jug, with no result except that I broke both of them. Then I sat down and reflected. My window was on the fourth floor and looked on the hotel courtyard, so that escape in that direction was impossible. But there still remained one other plan. I had my revolver.
"I assailed the door, first with a chair."
"'Stand clear there, everybody, while I shoot!' I called through the key-hole; and then I pulled the trigger and blew away the lock.
"In the silence which followed the report I heard the tramp of heavy footsteps in the corridor. Still gripping the smoking weapon, I stepped outside to receive my visitors.
"Imagine my surprise when I saw that they were policemen, and that my landlord was guiding them to my apartment, carrying the key. His language was polite, however, and he offered an explanation.