l of the party. On one occasion nothing would
please her but to stop in the street and engage one of these public
scribes to indite a letter for her to an acquaintance in New York. I can
see the old man's amusement now, and the pretty, bright face of the girl
as she endeavoured to make him understand, in broken Italian, what she
desired him to say. That afternoon, I remember, we went to Capri and
were late in reaching home, for which we should in all probability have
received a wigging from the elder members of the party, who had remained
behind, but for the fact that two important engagements, long hoped for,
were announced as resulting from the excursion. I could not help
contrasting the enjoyment with which I had made a bet of gloves with the
young American, that she would not employ the letter-writer as narrated
above, with my feelings as I searched for Angelotti now. Approaching the
first table I inquired of the man behind it whether he could inform me
where I should be most likely to find the individual I wanted.

"Angelotti, did you say, signore?" the fellow replied, shaking his head
"I know no one of that name among the writers here." Then, turning to a
man seated a little distance from him, he questioned him, with the same
result.

It began to look as if Legrath must have made some mistake, and that
the individual in whose custody reposed the secret of Pharos's address
was as difficult to find as his master himself. But, unsuccessful as my
first inquiry had been, I was not destined to be disappointed in the
end. A tall, swarthy youth, of the true Neapolitan loafer type, who had
been leaning against a wall close by smoking a cigarette and taking a
mild interest in our conversation, now removed his back from its
resting-place and approached us.

"Ten thousand pardons, Excellenza," he said, "but you mentioned the name
of one Angelotti, a public letter-writer. I am acquainted with him, and
with the signore's permission will conduct him to that person."

"You are sure you know him?" I replied, turning upon him sharply, for I
had had dealings with Neapolitan loafers before, and I did not
altogether like the look of this fellow.

"Since he is my uncle, Excellenza, it may be supposed that I do," he
answered.

Having said this he inhaled a considerable quantity of smoke and blew it
slowly out again, watching me all the time. I do not know any being in
the world who can be so servile, and at the same time so insole