in the West Indies. This
did not interest Ercole much, as he had heard it before, and he smoked
in silence for a while. So did Padre Francesco; and both brushed away
the flies. Nino rolled one bloodshot eye at his master, every time the
latter moved; and it grew excessively hot, and the air smelt of
chickens, rotten seaweed, and the pig. Yet both men were enjoying
themselves after a fashion, though Ercole distrusted Padre Francesco, as
he distrusted all human beings, and Padre Francesco looked upon Ercole
as a person having no knowledge of the world, because he had never eaten
pickled dog-fish in the West Indies.

After a time, Padre Francesco remembered a piece of news which he had
not yet told, cleared his throat, stirred the contents of his pipe with
the point of a dangerous-looking knife, and looked at his companion for
a full minute.

"Speak," said Ercole, who understood these premonitory signs.

"There has been one here who asked after you," Padre Francesco began.

"What species of Christian?" inquired Ercole.

"He was at the cottage when the blessed soul of the Signora departed, or
just before that. It is a big gentleman with a brown beard and bright
eyes. He looks for things in the sand and in the bushes and amongst the
seaweed. Who knows what he looks for? Perhaps he looks for gold."

"Or the souls of his dead," suggested Ercole with fine irony. "But I
know this Signore who was at the cottage, with the brown beard and the
bright eyes. He sometimes came to shoot quail. He also killed some. He
is a professor of wisdom."

"He asked if I knew you, but of course I said I did not. Why should he
ask? How could I know what he wanted of you. I said that I had never
heard of you."

"You did well. Those who have business with me know where to find me.
What else did he say?"

"He asked if I had seen the young gentleman this year, and he told me
that he had not seen him since the night before he was lost. So then I
knew that he was a gentleman of some kind, since he had been at the
cottage. I also asked if your masters were never coming to the Roman
shore again."

"What did he answer?" inquired Ercole, with an air of utter
indifference.

"He said an evil thing. He said that your young gentleman had gone off
to foreign countries with a pretty peasant from Frascati, whose name was
Regina; that it was she who had nursed him when he was ill, in some inn,
and that out of gratitude, and because she was very pretty,