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Updated: June 9, 2025
The two, Merrihew and O'Mally, finally succeeded in separating the men, and none too soon. The prince staggered to a chair and sank heavily into it. A moment more and he had been a dead man. But he was not grateful to any one. La Signorina turned upon Hillard. "And you would have done this thing before my very eyes!" "I was mad," he panted, shamed.
"She is, without exception, one of the most beautiful women I ever saw or care to see." He rose and walked over to the window and gazed down upon the quay, bright with morning sunshine and colorful with two human currents. Smith and O'Mally exchanged a swift, comprehensive look. There was one thing upon which they agreed fully, but they had not yet put it into words.
"But supposing some one who knows the real princess happens along?" said Worth, putting in his final argument. "If I get into trouble of that sort, her Highness will help me out. I thank Mr. O'Mally for his suggestion." "Don't mention it," returned O'Mally dryly. Inwardly he was cursing his impulsive Irish blood.
Was she going to spring Dago on him? "I am Italian," he said easily. "I was born, however, in County Clare. My father and mother were immigrants to Ireland." His face was as solemn as an owl's. "That explains it." O'Mally took a new lease of life. "Now let me show you the Hadrian mosaic, from the Villa Hadrian in Tivoli, out of Rome." He swept back the sand. "Is it not magnificent?"
"This was the plan I had in mind when we went to Monte Carlo, and a much better plan, too." "Of course, we shall accept it," said Worth, confident that the mystery was still there, but that for the present he had been fooled. "But what's the matter with your playing the princess to the neighbors?" suggested O'Mally, his eyes laughing.
A commissionership was an apparent rise in the world; but Sialpore has the name of being a departmental cul-de-sac, and they had laughed in the clubs about "Irish promotion" without exactly naming judge O'Mally. But there are no such things as political blind alleys to a man who is a judge of indiscretion, provided he has certain other unusual gifts as well.
If you should need any financial aid, do not hesitate to call upon me. La Principessa di Monte Bianca. "A villa!" exclaimed Kitty rapturously. So many villas had she seen, guarded by Lombardy poplars or cypresses, that her mind hungered to live in one, if never so shortly. "And the villa of a princess!" sighed O'Mally. "Fudge!
And Worth smiled reassuringly. O'Mally beckoned to a waiter. "Oony bottle vino dee Asti, caldo, frappé!" he said loudly, so that all might hear him give the order. A month in Venice, and he would be able to talk like a native. True, if any Italian spoke to him, he was obliged to shake his head; but that was a trifling matter. "Tom!" warned Smith. "You let me alone," replied O'Mally.
"I guess Hillard and I can help you," said Merrihew. "We'll see that you get home all right." "To be sure," assented Hillard. Poor devils! "We'll make good, once we strike Broadway," replied O'Mally gratefully.
And O'Mally saw no reason for discovering its source; in fact, he admired Pietro's reticence. For, like Planchet in the immortal Three Musketeers, O'Mally had done some neat fishing through one of the cellar windows. Through the broken pane of glass he could see bin upon bin of dust-covered bottles, Burgundy, claret, Sauterne, champagne, and no end of cordials, prime vintages every one of them.
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