arance of
this callow Italian nobleman that stamped his character as artificial
and insincere. He resolved to find out something about his antecedents
before he permitted the young fellow to establish friendly relations
with his girls.

Next morning after breakfast he wandered through the lobby and paused at
the little office, where he discovered that the proprietor of this hotel
was a brother of that Floriano who managed the Hotel du Vesuve. That
gave him an excuse to talk with the man, who spoke very good English and
was exceedingly courteous to his guests--especially when they were
American.

"I see you have Count Ferralti with you," remarked Uncle John.

"Whom, sir?"

"Ferralti--Count Ferralti. The young man standing by the window,
yonder."

"I--I did not know," he said, hesitatingly. "The gentleman arrived last
evening, and I had not yet learned his name. Let me see," he turned to
his list of guests, who register by card and not in a book, and
continued: "Ah, yes; he has given his name as Ferralti, but added no
title. A count, did you say?"

"Yes," replied Uncle John.

The proprietor looked curiously toward the young man, whose back only
was visible. Then he remarked that the eruption of Vesuvius was waning
and the trouble nearly over for this time.

"Are the Ferraltis a good family?" asked Uncle John, abruptly.

"That I cannot tell you, Signor Merrick."

"Oh. Perhaps you know little about the nobility of your country."

"I! I know little of the nobility!" answered Floriano, indignantly. "My
dear signor, there is no man better posted as to our nobility in all
Italy."

"Yet you say you don't know the Ferralti family."

The proprietor reached for a book that lay above his desk.

"Observe, signor. Here is our record of nobility. It is the same as the
'Blue Book' or the 'Peerage' of England. Either fortunately or
unfortunately--I cannot say--you have no need of such a book in
America."

He turned the pages and ran his finger down the line of "Fs."

"Find me, if you can, a Count Ferralti in the list."

Uncle John looked. He put on his glasses and looked again. The name of
Ferralti was no place in the record.

"Then there is no such count, Signor Floriano."

"And no such noble family, Signor Merrick."

Uncle John whistled softly and walked away to the window. The young man
greeted him with a smile and a bow.

"I misunderstood your name last evening," he said. "I thought you were
Count Ferralt