g it for
me before I go back home--could I?

ETHEL. I--I think not.

[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]

[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]

PIKE [reading]. "I am sorry old man Simpson's daughter thinks of buying
a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.

[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]

"I haven't forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your
desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she'd
come back some day and marry a man from home."

I don't wonder she said she hadn't read it!

[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]

But she _had_--and she didn't go away--that is, not _right_ away!

[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]

HORACE [speaking as they enter]. But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr.
Pike positively refuses.

HAWCASTLE. Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a
nun.

[HORACE goes into the hotel.]

My dear Pike, there is a certain question--

PIKE [in his mildest tone]. I don't want to seem rough with you, but I
meant what I said.

HAWCASTLE. Imagining I did not mean _that_ question--

PIKE. Then it's all right.

HAWCASTLE. Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning
the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and
impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment--[he
speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights
begin to appear in the windows]--of certain other unfortunates who may
be, to speak vulgarly, wanted--by the police.

PIKE [coolly]. You're anxious about that, are you?

HAWCASTLE. So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may
confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere--strange
to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose
kind heart has thus betrayed him--[he turns up sharply toward the
lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice
lifting]--is two years' imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly
informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.

PIKE [gently]. Well, being in jail _any_ place ain't much like an Elks'
carnival.

HAWCASTLE. There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your
admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he
happened to be--as it were--caught in the act!

PIKE [grimly]. Talk plain; talk pla