“Two men knocked me down,” he replied in answer to the police agent. “But I fired at them. Hit both the brutes, I believe,” and he laughed.
“Dio! Which way did they go?” asked the man.
“Round there, to the left, into the Via Vicenza, I believe. But you’ll never find them. Besides I didn’t see them well enough to be able to recognise them again.”
“The signore is a diplomat, I see. May I not know his name, for the purpose of my report?”
“No,” replied Waldron, for he was not anxious that Ghelardi should learn of the incident, as no doubt he would, if formal report were made that a British diplomat had been attacked in the streets. “It’s nothing,” he said. “They tried to rob me, that’s all.”
And then placing ten francs in the man’s hand he picked up his cocked hat and went his way.
What Lola had told him was the truth. But how could she possibly have known that such a desperate attempt was about to be made?
What motive could there be to seal his lips, save because he was endeavouring to see a solution of the mystery of the missing plans!
Was it possible that those two assassins whom Pucci knew to be two of the most desperate characters in Rome were the hirelings of General Cataldi?
On his way homeward that theory became more than ever impressed upon him. His Excellency was guilty of connivance at the theft, and knowing that he was near arriving at a solution of the mystery, intended that his mouth should be closed.