Chiaja was very lonely just there.

At last an idea occurred to me, and I called the man. It was growing so
near to six o'clock that I was afraid of missing Clyde. I tore a leaf
from my pocket-book, scrawled a line to Clyde asking him to wait for me,
took a franc from my purse, and asked the man to take a 'message to
the Caffe d' Italia, and there give it to the person to whom it was
addressed. Regarding the man's dress and the foreign accent with which
he had spoken just now, I addressed him in French.

'Pas du tout!' he responded. 'Je ne suis pas un blooming idiot. C'est
impossible. Allez-vous donc.'

'Ah!' I said, 'you are English. I beg your pardon. I suppose you did not
understand. I wish you to be so good as to take this note to the Caffe
d' Italia for Mr. Arthur Clyde. I will give you----'

'I am not anybody's messenger,' the man answered, and walked away again.

There was nobody else within call, and I was compelled, therefore, to
resign myself as best I could. My efforts to awaken Grammont had proved
quite fruitless. I lit a cigar, and walked to and fro. The man in the
blouse also lit a. cigar, and paced to and fro, passing in every journey
the bench on which Grammont lay asleep. Suspecting him as I did, I never
took my eyes from him for a moment when he was near Grammont, and he, in
his catlike watch of me, was equally vigilant. At last, growing tired of
this watchful promenade, I addressed him--

'It is of no use for you to linger here. You will not tire me out. I
shall stay until my friend awakes.'

'Oh!' he said, removing his cigar, and taking a steady look at me.
'You'll stay until your friend awakes, will you? Then--so will I.'

He began his walk again, and I, regarding the man more closely, had
formed a new idea.

This man suspected me of designs upon those bank-notes, I began to
think, and was possibly lingering here to guard a stranger, from some
such motive as my own. Still, it was scarcely safe to trust him alone,
and I was not disposed to do so. The idea of his suspecting me amused me
for a minute and then amazed me, but I continued my promenade as if no
such thought had occurred to me. So we went on until my watch marked
half past seven o'clock, when Grammont awoke. We were not far from the
cabstand, and I led him thither, assisted him to enter the vehicle, gave
the driver his half-franc, and bade him drive to the Basso Porto. The
man in the blouse followed, and watched closely all the tim