g like it.
I'm glad I came!"

His _vis-a-vis_ bowed in a courteous but abstracted manner. He had no
wish to encourage the conversation, so he made no reply. But the
Englishman, having made up his mind to talk, was not easily repulsed.

"You don't live here, do you?" he asked.

The Sicilian shook his head.

"No! It happens that I was born here, but my home was on the other side
of the island. It is many years since I visited it."

He had made a longer speech than he had intended, and he paid the
penalty for it. The Englishman drew his chair a little nearer, and
continued with an air of increasing familiarity.

"It's very stupid of me, but, do you know, I've quite forgotten your
name for the moment. I remember my cousin, Cis Davenport, introducing us
at Rome, and I knew you again directly I saw you. But I'm hanged if I
can think of your name! I always had a precious bad memory."

The Sicilian looked none too well pleased at the implied request. He
glanced uneasily around, and then bent forward, leaning his elbow upon
the table so that the heads of the two men almost touched. When they had
come into the place, he had carefully chosen a position as far away from
the flaming lights as possible, but they were still within hearing of
many of the chattering groups around.

"I do not object to telling you my name," he said in a low tone, sunk
almost to a whisper, "but you will pardon me if I make a request which
may appear somewhat singular to you. I do not wish you to address me by
it here, or to mention it. To be frank, there are reasons for wishing my
presence in this neighborhood not to be known. You are a gentleman, and
you will understand."

"Oh, perfectly," the Englishman answered him, in a tone of blank
bewilderment.

What did it all mean? Had he run off with some one else's wife, or was
he in debt? One of the two seemed to be the natural conclusion. Anyhow,
he did not want to know the fellow's name. He had only asked out of
politeness, and if he were in any sort of scrape, perhaps it would be
better not to know it.

"I tell you what," the Englishman explained, in the midst of the other's
hesitating pause, "don't tell it me! I can call you anything you like
for this evening. I daresay we I sha'n't meet afterwards, and if you
want to keep it dark about your being here, why, then, I sha'n't be able
to give you away--by accident, of course. Come, I'll call you anything
you like. Choose your name for the night!