moment when Marcello left her and the instant of Folco's appearance
before her. She had not looked at her watch; in fact, she had not
carried a watch. The whole story therefore depended upon her more or
less accurate judgment of time. It might have been a quarter of an hour
instead of five minutes, in which case Corbario had not yet left the
cottage, and Marcello would have had ample leisure to disappear in any
direction he pleased. Ercole had been away at Porto d'Anzio, the men had
been all at the hut; if Folco had not been on the path precisely at the
time guessed by Aurora, everything could be accounted for.

"Very well," Corbario answered. "Let us suppose that my stepson had time
to get away. In that case he can be found, alive or dead. Italy is not
China, nor Siberia, and I can place unlimited funds at your disposal.
Find him for me; that is all I ask."

"We shall find him, never fear!" answered the Chief of Police with a
confidence he did not feel.

"We shall find him!" echoed the three detectives in chorus.

Ercole watched the proceedings and listened to what was said, for he
considered it his duty to attend on such an occasion, his dog at his
heels, his gun slung over his shoulder. He listened and looked from one
to the other with his deep eyes and inscrutable parchment face,
shrivelled by the malarious fever. But he said nothing. The Chief of
Police turned to him at last.

"Now what do you think about it?" asked the official. "You know the
country. Had there been any suspicious characters about, fellows who
could have carried off the boy?"