e temptation
of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of
the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open
letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations.

'We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to
start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so
exasperating?'

She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first
sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late;
Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with
gleeful malice.

'"Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?"--If that's an example of the
famous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank
you.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall _never_ forgive this!' She
glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of
vantage it was naively transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, the
contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter's
serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence.

'I should say, on the contrary, that he _doesn't_ want you to start
immediately for the Dolomites,' Constance observed.

'It's a girl,' Nannie groaned. 'I suspected it from the moment we got the
telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of
my sight?'

'I dare say she's horrid,' Constance put in. 'One meets such frightful
Americans travelling.'

'We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate.' It was
Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which
suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother's son,
however unpleasant that duty might be.

'American girls are so grasping,' said Nannie plaintively. 'It's scarcely
safe for an unattached man to go out alone.'

Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter.

'By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His
letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night.'

Nannie examined the postmark. 'I hadn't thought of that! How could he
have found out--unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What does
it mean?'

Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. 'You've got
me!' A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to
his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner.
'Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony again
yes