It was charmingly situated. The old place had once belonged to a great family, but was now half-ruined; the few rooms remaining intact having been transformed into an inn.
As we rode up to the porch, a slender girl of about seventeen, with big black eyes, and dark hair coiled tightly, fastened with a Genoese filigree pin, came running round the corner of the house. She looked as wild as the goats on the mountain-side, and my first thought was, “What a beauty she will some day be!” I raised my wide-brimmed sun hat, and asked if we could obtain accommodation for the night.
“I don’t know,” she said shortly. “But I will ask father,” and she darted into the house.
A moment later an old man made his appearance, rubbing his hands and smiling benignly. “How are you, signori?” he asked in his patois. “Want to stop? Very well. Here, Ninetta, call Giovanni to take the horses.”
I had just dismounted, and started to remove the saddlebags, when a glance at my travelling companion checked me. He was gazing down the road and listening intently. I saw an anxious look overspread his face. The next moment he stuck spurs into his horse, and, without a word galloped down the road in the opposite direction in the gathering gloom.
Surprised and alarmed, I sprang into the saddle, and, as the sound of horses approaching at a rapid rate greeted my ears, I started off down the road after my late companion. My first thought was that brigands were upon us.
Glancing back, I saw a number of horsemen riding furiously down upon me. I heard loud oaths in Italian, and orders to halt. Without heeding them, I spurred on, and drawing my revolver, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. The next moment a volley of shots rang out, and my horse stumbled and fell.
Before I could rise I was surrounded by three gendarmes and a rough crowd of men, nearly all of whom were half mad with drink and excitement. Cries of joy were heard on all sides, and a dozen hands seized me in no gentle grasp.
“What do you want?” I cried.
“We want you,” replied one of the gendarmes, stepping forward, “Your name is Anton Prèhznev!”