"Such people would ask a ransom," answered Ercole. "You would soon hear
from them. But I saw no one. There have been no brigands about Rome for
more than twenty years. Do you dream that you are in Sicily? Praise be
to Heaven, this is the Roman Campagna; we are Christians and we live
under King Victor! Where are the brigands? They have melted. Or else
they are making straw hats in the galleys. Do I know where they are?
They are not here. That is enough."

"Quite right, my friend," answered the Chief of Police. "There are no
brigands. But I am sorry to say that there are thieves in the Campagna,
as there are near every great city."

Ercole shrugged his angular shoulders contemptuously.

"Thieves would not carry a man away," he answered. "You know that, you
who are of the profession, as they say. Such ruffians would have knocked
the young gentleman on the head to keep him quiet, and would have made
off. And besides, we should have found their tracks in the sand, and
Nino would have smelt them."

Nino pricked up one ragged ear at the sound of his name.

"He does not look very intelligent," observed the official. "A clever
dog might have been used to track the boy."

"How?" inquired Ercole with scorn. "The footsteps of the young gentleman
were everywhere, with those of all the family, who were always coming
and going about here. How could he track them, or any of us? But he
would have smelt a stranger, even if it had rained. I know this dog. He