"It's Italian, Fran. 'Palazzo Grassi, Via Ludovisi, Roma.' Just
two addresses and no name!" Edith ended in disappointment.

"Oh, but wait!" exclaimed Frances. The light struck the plate at
such an angle as to make visible to her some additional lettering,
not engraved but apparently scratched with a knife. Though small,
the words were extremely neat and legible and the girls deciphered
them eagerly.

"Connie--her dog.

"Max--his mark."

"Her name must be Connie!" Edith declared, turning excited eyes
upon her companion. "Speak, Tylo! Is your mistress called
Constance?"

Tylo vouchsafed no answer, only pricked his ears, hearing
something inaudible to the girls. The next instant came a distinct
though faint whistle.

The beach dog departed at once, tearing down over the meadow in a
graceful curve to leap a hedge into a shady lane beyond.

"Well, we've learned a little," sighed Frances. "His mistress is
called Connie and she lives at Laurel Manor. The rest ought to be
easy. Let's go down to the shore. I want to explore that point of
rocks."

"But Win's asleep," said Edith hesitatingly. "Ought we to leave