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"Herod would have had his work cut out for him here. Now, where can we get some newspapers? I must know where she is." "Presently," said Hillard. "The Piazza dei Martin," he directed Tomass'. Then he turned to Merrihew solemnly. "My boy, if you are to travel with me, beware of the Tauchnitz edition." "What's that?" "It's good reading in paper-covers.
It was business to go slowly there. A dozen times, on the Via Roma, Merrihew yelled that they would lose a wheel. But Tomass' knew the game. A man on foot could not have eluded collisions more skilfully. Merrihew never saw such driving. Nor had he ever seen such shops. Coral, coral, wherever the eye roamed. Where did they get it all and to whom did they sell it?
In Italy, if there is one thing more than another that pleases the native it is to make believe to himself that he has got the better of a bargain. A shrewd purchase enlivens the whole day; it is talked about, laughed over, and becomes the history of the day that Tomass', or Pietro, or Paoli, or whatever his name may be, has bested the merchant out of some twenty centesimi.
We'll have Tomass' drive us down the Via Caracciolo. It will take some of the disappointment out of your system." "Any old place," was the joyless response. "Seems to me that Italy has all the cards when it comes to graft." "America, my boy, is only in the primary department. Kitty's manager forgot the most important thing of the whole outfit." "What's that?" "The Itching Palm.
Hillard half rose from his seat. "Somebody you know?" asked Merrihew. "The man at the wheel looked a bit like Sandford." "Sandford? By George, that would be jolly!" "Perhaps they will come this way again. Tomass', follow that motor." Sure enough, when the car reached the Largo Vittoria, it wheeled and came rumbling back. This time Hillard had no doubts. He stood up and waved his arms.
They found stationed outside the hotel a rosy-cheeked cabby who answered to the name of Tomasso, or Tomass', as the Neapolitans generally drop the finals. He carried a bright red lap-robe and blanket, spoke a little English, and was very proud of the accomplishment. He was rather disappointed, however, when Hillard bargained with him in his own tongue.
He saw at once that there would be no imposing on the young Americano. The two harangued for a while, on general principles. Twice words rose so high that Merrihew thought they were about to come to blows. Tomass' shook his fingers under Hillard's nose and Hillard returned the compliment. Finally Tomass' compromised on one-lira-fifty per hour, with fifty centesimi pourboire. Crack-crack!
Down the hill they went, as if a thousand devils were after them. "By George!" gasped Merrihew, clutching his seat; "the fool will break our necks!" "They are always like this," laughed Hillard. "Slowly, slowly!" he called. Tomass' grinned and cracked his whip. He did not understand the word slowly in his own tongue or in any other; at least, not till he reached the shops.
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