"Make me up," said he, "three portable parcels of fifty thousand lire each."
The next day at ten he left Rome in a black and beauteous motor-car, and drove slowly along the Appian Way. He had left his mechanic behind, and was prepared to renew his tires and his youth. Packed away, he had luncheon and champagne enough for four; and he had not forgotten to bring along the three parcels of money.
The three brigands stepped into the Appian Way from behind a mass of fallen masonry. They had found the means to shave cleanly, and perhaps to wash. They were adorned with what were evidently their very best clothes. The youngest, whose ambition was the girl he loved, even wore a necktie.
Asabri brought the motor to a swift, oily, and polished halt.
"Well met," he said, "since all is well. If you," he smiled into the face of the sullen brigand, "will be so good as to sit beside me!... The others shall sit in behind.... We shall go first," he continued, when all were comfortably seated, "to have a look at that little piece of land on which grow figs, olives, and grapes. We shall buy it, and break our fast in the shade of the oldest fig tree. It is going to be a hot day."
"It is below Rome, and far," said the sullen brigand; "but since the barge upon which my friend has set his heart belongs to a near neighbor, we shall be killing two birds with one stone. But with all deference, excellency, have you really retrieved your fortunes?"
"And yours," said Asabri. "Indeed, I am to-day as rich as ever I was, with the exception"—his eyes twinkled behind his goggles—"of about a hundred and fifty thousand lire."
The sullen brigand whistled; and although the roads were rough, they proceeded, thanks to the shock-absorbers on Asabri's car, in complete comfort, at a great pace.
In the village nearest to the property upon which the sullen brigand had cast his eye, they picked up a notary through whom to effect the purchase.