stavo nodded with glistening eyes. He had always felt stirring within
him powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he rose to the occasion
magnificently.

Tony turned away and went bounding upstairs two steps at a time,
chuckling as he went. He, too, was developing an undreamed of appetite
for intrigue, and his capacity in that direction was expanding to meet
it. He had covered the first flight, when Gustavo suddenly remembered
the letter and bounded after.

"Signore! I beg of you to wait one moment. Here is a letter from ze
signorina; it is come while you are away."

Tony read the address with a start of surprise.

"Then she knows!" There was regret, disillusionment, in his tone.

It was Gustavo's turn to furnish enlightenment.

"But no, signore, she do not comprehend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyar
is ze brover who is not arrive. She leave it for him when he come."

"Ah!" Tony ripped it open and read it through with a chuckle. He read it
a second time and his face grew grave. He thrust it into his pocket and
strode away without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo looked after him
reproachfully. As a head waiter, he naturally did not expect to read the
letters of guests; but as a fellow conspirator, he felt that he was
entitled to at least a general knowledge of all matters bearing on the
conspiracy. He turned back down stairs with a disappointed droop to his
shoulders.

Tony closed his door and walked to the window where he stood staring at
the roof of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from his pocket and read it
for the third time slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. The reason
was clear; she was tired of Tony and was looking ahead for fresh worlds
to conquer. Jerry Junior was to come next.

He understood why she had been so complaisant today. She wished the
curtain to go down on the comedy note. Tomorrow, the nameless young
American, the "Abraham Lincoln" of the register, would call--by the
gate--would be received graciously, introduced in his proper person to
the guests; the story of the donkey-man would be recounted and laughed
over, and he would be politely asked when he was planning to resume his
travels. This would be the end of the episode. To Constance, it had been
merely an amusing farce about which she could boast when she returned to
America. In her vivacious style it would make a story, just as her first
meeting with Jerry Junior had made a story. But as for the play itself,
for _him_, she cared nothi