As soon as I entered Mr. Staffurth’s little study I saw by his manner that the discovery he had made filled him with interest.

“I have lost no time in going through your documents,” he said calmly, when I was seated by his table. “Your story of the finding of the strange ship with the mysterious survivor on board was most interesting, and last night, after you had gone, I turned my attention at once to this book, written by Bartholomew da Schorno.”

“And you have discovered the secret?” I asked eagerly.

“Not entirely,” he responded. “But I have deciphered sufficient to tell us a curious narrative, and to explain to some degree the mystery of the Seahorse. Are you acquainted with the history of Tuscany?”

I replied in the negative. I knew my history of England fairly well, but had never cared for the study of the history of other countries.

“In that case I must first explain to you a few historical facts, in order that you may rightly understand the situation,” he said. “During the late fifteenth century the southern coasts of France, and especially of Italy, from the Var mouth along to Leghorn, were continually raided by the Corsairs of Barbary, who ravaged the towns and villages and carried thousands of Christians into slavery, in Algera and Tunis. The great breakwater at Algiers was constructed by them, and at one of the gates of the city are still preserved the hooks upon which the unfortunate captives were hung to die if they offended their cruel taskmasters. So bold were these pirates and so terrible their depredations, especially in the country between Savona and the mouth of the Arno, that in the year 1561, by a privilege granted by Pius IV., an order of chivalry was founded, called the Knights of St. Stephen, the members being all of the Italian aristocracy, and the object to construct armed ships to sweep these Corsairs from the sea.

“The headquarters of the Order were in Pisa, then an important city, where they constructed a church which still remains to this day hung with banners taken from the Corsairs, a magnificent relic of Italy’s departed glory. The founder of the Order was Cosimo di Medici, who, according to the volume here”—and he placed his hand upon a folio bound in yellow parchment—“took the habit in the Cathedral of Pisa on March 15, 1561, of Monsignor Georgio Cornaro, the Papal Nuncio.

“I fear,” he continued, “that these are rather dry details of a chapter of the forgotten history of Italy, but if you will bear with me for a few minutes I think I shall be able to explain the mystery to a certain extent. These extremely rare volumes I have obtained from the library of my friend, Sir Arthur Bond, the great Italian historian, in order that you may examine them.” And opening the first at the title page he placed it before me. Printed in big rough capitals on the damp-stained page were the words:?—

I pregj della Toscana nel’ Imprese piv ’segnalate de’ Cavalieri di Santo Stefano. Opera data in Lvce da Fulvo Fontana della Compagnia di Gesù. In Firenze MDCCI.

The other was a somewhat thicker but smaller volume, parchment bound like the first, its title being Statuti dell’ Ordine de Cavalieri di Stefano and contained in Italian a complete history of the Order, the bulls of the Popes concerning it, the regulations of its church and administration of its funds.

It was evident that Mr. Staffurth, although an elderly man, was not one to let grass grow beneath his feet. He pored over the books, blinking through his spectacles, and then continued his explanations, saying:?—

“It seems that the first admiral of this primitive fleet was Guilio di Medici, and although the knights rowed in galleys against the stronger ships of the Turks they succeeded in capturing three of the latter on their first voyage in 1573. From that year down to 1688 they waged continuous war against the Corsairs, until they had burned most of the strongholds of the latter, and entirely broken their power on the sea. Now,” he added, “you told me something of a banner with a cross upon it.” And opening the bigger volume he showed me a large copper-plate engraving of one of the battles wherein vessels exactly similar in build to the Seahorse were engaged, and each was flying a flag similar to the one I had discovered.

“The Maltese cross,” he explained, “was the distinguishing badge of the Knights of St. Stephen who fought for Christianity against the Mohammedans, and succeeded in liberating so many of the white slaves. No movement was perhaps more humane, and none so completely forgotten, for even the Order itself is now discontinued, and all that remains is that grand old church in Pisa, nowadays visited by gaping tourists. From my investigations, however, it seems quite plain that the Seahorse was one of the ships of the Order, and although of English name, and probably of English build, its commander was the noble Bartholomew da Schorno, who had as lieutenant Pomp?o Marie a Paule. The latter, as stated in the document with the leaden seal, was appointed commendatore by Cosimo the Second.”

“Then the fact is established that the reason cannon and armed men were aboard the Seahorse was because she was engaged in the suppression of piracy?” I said.

“Exactly. Your remark regarding the banner with the Maltese cross gave me the cue, and I have, I think, successfully cleared up the first point. And, furthermore, you have recognized in this picture vessels built on the same lines. This picture, as you will see, represents the taking of the fortress of Elimano from the Corsairs in the year 1613.”

“Then do you fix the date of the loss of the Seahorse about that period?”

“I cannot say,” he responded. “It might have been ten, or even twenty years later.”

“Not more?”

“No; not more. In these later pictures you will see that the vessels were of somewhat different build,” and the old expert turned over folio after folio of the rare and interesting volume.

“All this, however,” he remarked, “must be very dry to you. But you have sought my aid in this curious affair, and I am giving it to the best of my ability. We men who make a special study of history, or of pal?ography, are apt to believe that the general public are as absorbed in the gradual transition of the charter hands, or the vagaries of the Anglo-Norman scribes of the twelfth century, as we are ourselves. Therefore, I hope you will forgive me if I have bored you, Dr. Pickering. I will promise,” he added, with a laugh, “not to offend again.”

“No apology is needed, my dear sir,” I hastened to reassure him; “I am so terribly ignorant of all these things, and all that you discover is to me of most intense interest, having regard to my own adventures, and to the existence of a survivor from the Seahorse.”

“Very well then,” he answered, apparently much gratified; “let us proceed yet another step.” And he placed aside the two borrowed volumes. “Of course, I have not yet had sufficient time to decipher the whole of this volume written by Bartholomew da Schorno, but so far as I have gone I find that the writer, although of Italian birth, lived in England, and it is with certain things in England that occurred in 1589 and 1590 that he deals—matters which are mysterious and certainly require investigation.”

From between the parchment leaves of the heavy book he drew several sheets of paper, which I saw were covered with pencil memoranda ............