LORD OF MANY SECRETS

TWELVE

"Eh?" said Lord Garbatela. "Did you say you were Clements' ward?" The gentleman in the great coat gave Patrick back his card. "So you are my Lord Clements' ward!" he said. "Dear me! And - er - are you at all acquainted with your guardian?" "That, sir, has nothing to do with you! We are on our way to visit his lordship now". "Well", said the gentleman softly, "you must present my compliments to him when you see him. Don't forget". "This is not to the point!" exclaimed Patrick. "I have challenged you to fight, sir!" "I don't think your guardian would advise you to press your challenge", replied the gentleman with a slight smile. Elizabeth laid a hand on her brother's arm, and said coldly, "you have not told us yet by what name we may describe you to Lord Clements". His smile lingered. "I think you will find that his lordship will know who I am", he said, and took Lord Garbatela's arm, and strolled with him into the coffee room.

* * *

It was with difficulty that Miss Tellaro succeeded in preventing her brother from following the stranger and Lord Naples into the coffee room and there attempting to force an issue. He was out of reason angry, but upon Elizabeth's representing to him how such a scene could only end in a public brawl which must involve her, at the cause of it, he allowed himself to be drawn away, still declaring that he would at least know the stranger's name. She pushed him up the stairs in front of her, and in the seclusion of her own room have him an account of her adventure. It was but, after all, so very bad. There had been nothing to alarm her, though much to enrage. She made light of the circumstance of the stranger kissing her. He would bestow just such a careless embrace on a pretty chamber maid, she dared say. It was certain that he mistook her station in life. Patrick could not be content. She had been insulted, and it must be for him to bring the stranger to book. As she set about the task of arguing him out of his determination, Elizabeth realized that she had rather bring the gentleman to book herself. To have Patrick settle the business could bring her no satisfaction. It must be for her to punish the stranger's insolence, and she fancied that she could do so without assistance. When Patrick went down stairs again to the coffee room, the strange gentleman had left. The landlord, still harassed and busy with the company, could not tell Patrick his name, nor even recall having served Lord Garbatela. So many gentlemen had crowded into this inn today that he could not be blamed for forgetting half of them. As for a team of blood chestnuts, he could name half a dozed such teams, they might all have drawn up at the Vinaio for anything he knew. Patrick could only be sorry that Mr Fritzwa was already on his way back to Rome. He might have known the stranger's name. By dinnertime Florence was quiet again. A few gentlemen stayed on overnight, but they were not many. Miss Tellaro could go to bed in the expectation of a good night's unbroken repose. She thought herself reasonably safe from any further talk of the fight. It had been described to her in detail at least five times. There could be no more to say. There was no more to say. Patrick realized it, and beyond exclaiming once or twice during breakfast next morning that he never hoped to see a better mill, and asking his sister whether he had told her of this or that hit, he did not talk of it. He was out of spirits, after the excitement of the previous day, Sunday in Florence was insipid beyond bearing. He was cursed flat, was only sorry Elizabeth's scruples forbade them setting forward for Rome at once. There was nothing to do but to go to church, and stroll about the town a little with his sister on his arm. Even the gig had had to be returned to its owner. They attended the service together, and after it walked slowly back to the Vinaio. Patrick was all yawns and abstraction. He could not be brought to admire anything, was not interested in the history even of the Darkened Inn, where it was said that Richard The Fifth has once encountered a supernatural being in the form of a man seeking lodging. Elizabeth must know he had never cared a rap for such fusty old stuff. He wished there were some way of passing the time, he could not think what he should do with himself until dinner. He was grumbling on in this strain when the pressure of Elizabeth's fingers on his arm compelled his attention. She said in a low voice, "Parte, the gentleman who gave up his rooms to us! I wish you would speak to him, we owe him a little extraordinary civility". He brightened at once, and looked around him. He would be glad to shake hands with the fellow, might even, if Elizabeth was agreeable, invite him to dine with them. The gentleman was approaching them, upon the same side of the road. It was evident that he had recognized them. He looked a little conscious, but did not seem to wish to stop. As he drew nearer he raised his hat and bowed slightly, and would have passed on if Patrick, dropping his sister's arm, had not stood in the way. "I beg your pardon", Patrick said, "but I think you are the gentleman who was so obliging to us on Friday?" The other man bowed again, and murmured something about it being of no much consequence. "But it was of great consequence to us, sir", Elizabeth said. "I am afraid we thanked you rather curtly, and you may have thought us very uncivil". He raised his eyes to her face, and said earnestly, "no, indeed not, ma'am. I was happy to be of service. It was nothing to me, I might command a lodging elsewhere. I beg you won't think of it again".