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Updated: June 14, 2025
The editor of the Commentator was sitting in his deep chair before the fire one morning about eleven o'clock, when the clerk, whose business it was to tell glib lies about his chief, brought him a card. "Lloseta," said Craik aloud to himself. "Ask him to come up." "The man who ought to have written the Spanish sketches," he commented, when the clerk had left.
But I didn't rightly understand it, never having had a good head for figures, though I could always work out my sums near enough to fix her position on the chart at mid-day. I take it that Mr. Lloseta has got a gift for financials, leastwise he pays me my money most regular, and last time there was two pounds more.
Harrington's keen eyes rested on the young sailor, and endeavoured somewhat obviously to draw Agatha's attention to it by frowns and heavily significant nods, which her dutiful daughter ignored. Mrs. Harrington glanced impatiently at the clock. "That stupid Count is late," she said. "Is the Count de Lloseta coming?" asked Mrs. Ingham-Baker eagerly.
This man, Cipriani de Lloseta, leads a somewhat lonely life, inasmuch as he associates but little with the men of his rank and station.
Can you guarantee that the public interest, being aroused by these articles, may not ask for further details, which details might easily be given elsewhere, in something less respectable than the Commentator?" "My dear sir, one would think you had a crime on your conscience." Cipriani de Lloseta smiled such a smile as John Craik had never seen before. "I have many," he answered. "Who has not?"
Sympathy seemed to be struggling behind "Polite-Attention-to- Business," while for a moment a real look of distress flitted over the parchment face. He paused for an instant, reflecting while he assorted his papers. "I am," he said, "the lawyer of his excellency the Count de Lloseta." Eve and Fitz exchanged a glance, and as silence was kept the lawyer went on.
He continued to look at De Lloseta and Fitz with a quiet scrutiny which was somewhat remarkable. It suggested the scrutiny of a woman who is taking notes of another's dress. More particularly perhaps he watched the Count, and the keen eyes had a reflective look, as if they were handing that which they saw, back to the brain behind them for purpose of storage.
However, we dine at eight, and I shall be glad to see you." De Lloseta took up his hat and stick. With Mrs. Harrington, and with no one else perhaps in London, he still observed the stiff Spanish manner. He bowed without offering to shake hands, and left her. Mrs. Harrington cold, calculating, essentially worldly looked at the closed door with deep speculation in her eyes.
The steamer has loosed its moorings, is slowly picking its way out of the crowded harbour, and it will pass the pier-head by the time that Cipriani de Lloseta reaches that point. The man walks slowly, cloaked to the mouth, for the evening breeze is chilly. He gravely descends the steps and begins to walk on the little path around the circular tower at the end of the pier.
Eve has packed up some lunch for you in the saddle-bag if you think of going to Lloseta first." The Count nodded. "Yes," he said, "that is like Eve; she would think of such things." He went up to the horse, patted it, measured the length of the stirrup-leather, and then turned to Fitz. "I will go to Lloseta," he said. "It is only natural after forty years.
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