was a
traitor, a man who would bite the hand that fed him.

When he had dismissed the Ambassador, he crossed over to the desk
where Nello had just finished his translations.

"They are here, Baron. Will you read them?"

The Baron read them. "Very good, very good, indeed," he said. "Now,
Signor Corsini, I think you and I will have a little serious talk."

CHAPTER VIII

The Baron led Nello from the desk where he had been writing and
planted him in one of the numerous comfortable chairs scattered about
the handsomely furnished room.

"Sit you down there, my young friend, while I talk to you. Now, these
translations are very good, and they have started an idea in my mind
which might result in something useful. But, in the first place, I
should like to know something of your own views. Would you have any
objection to leave England for a space, assuming that I could push
your musical interests in another country?"

It did not take the young man long to consider. A musician is, or
should be, cosmopolitan; to-day in London, next week in Paris, the
week after in Vienna or Berlin.

"One country is as good to me as another, Baron, so long as my chance
of a career is equal."

"Good!" The financier looked at his watch. "It is now half-past
eleven, and I have a deal to do between now and one o'clock. Can you
see me again at one?"

"My time is at your disposal, sir. I will return at one."

"By that time my ideas will have developed, and I may be able to put
before you a definite proposition," said Salmoros. "I have an
unpretentious little lunch served here every day when I have no
outside engagements. You will honour me by partaking of it. I cannot
speak very highly of the _cuisine_; it is quite simple, but I shall be
able to give you a very decent bottle of wine."

"A thousand thanks, Baron." Nello smiled inwardly at his host's
apologies for the simplicity of the meal. This rich man did not know,
and perhaps it was better he should not know, the depths of the
poverty to which his guest had descended, how often he had gone to bed
half famished.

At the appointed hour he returned. The same young man who had
previously received him showed him into a small room, no less well
furnished than the other.

A round dining-table was laid for two. As he had expected, it was to
be a _tete-a-tete_ meal. He had just time to notice the beautiful
appointments of the table, the snowy napery, the rare old silver, the
exquisi