ter
at what cost. Natalie must face the truth. Better that the guilty should
suffer than the innocent. And he, Calabressa, for one, was not going to
shirk any responsibility for what might happen. He had obeyed the orders
of the Council. He had done his duty: that was enough.

He forced himself not to think of Natalie, and of the dismay and horror
with which she would learn of one of the consequences of her appeal.
This was a matter between men--to be settled by men: if the consciences
of women were tender, it could not be helped. Calabressa walked faster
and faster, as it he were trying to get away from something that
followed and annoyed him. He pretended to himself that he was deeply
interested in a shop-window here or there; occasionally he whistled; he
sung "Vado a Napoli in barchetta" with forced gayety; he twisted his
long white moustache, and then he made his way down to Brand's rooms.

Here he was also very gay.

"Now, my dear Monsieur Brand, to-day I have idleness; to-day I will talk
to you; yesterday I could not."

"Unfortunately," said Brand, "our positions are reversed now, for here
is a letter from Lind wanting me to go up to Lisle Street. It seems
Reitzei has had to go off into the country, leaving a lot of
correspondence--"

"You are, then, on good terms with Lind?" Calabressa interposed,
quickly.

"Yes; why not?" said Brand, with a stare.

"I, also--I say, why not? It is excellent. Then you have no time for my
chatter?" said Calabressa, carelessly regarding the open letter.

"At least you can tell me something about Natalie and her mother. Are
they well? What hotel are they at?"

Calabressa laughed.

"Yes, yes, my friend Monsieur Brand, you say, 'Are they well?' What you
mean is, 'What has taken them to Naples?' _Bien_, you are right to
wonder; you will not have to wonder long. A little patience; you will
hear something; do not be surprised. And you have no message, for
example, by way of reply to the letter I brought you?"

"You are returning to Naples, then?"

"To-night. I will take a message for you: if you have no time now, send
it to me at Charing Cross. Meanwhile, I take my leave."

Calabressa rose, but was persuaded to resume his seat.

"I see," said he, again laughing, "that you have a little time to hear
about the two wanderers. Oh, they are in a good hotel, I assure you;
pretty rooms; you look over to Capri; quite near you the Castello dell'
Ovo; and underneath your windows t