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Updated: June 7, 2025
She placed herself at the piano; the instrument being opposite to the door, it was impossible, when she seated herself on the music-stool, for any person entering the room to see her face. Henry called out irritably, 'Come in. The door was not opened. The person on the other side of it asked a strange question. 'Is Mr. Henry Westwick alone? Agnes instantly recognised the voice of the Countess.
Westwick, shall we get out of this hot room into the nice cool air again? They rose to leave the cafe. Francis privately concluded that the maraschino punch offered the only discoverable explanation of what the Countess had said to him. 'Shall I see you again? she asked, as she held out her hand to take leave. 'It is quite understood between us, I suppose, about the play?
There was Oscar Swanson, heavy, slow-moving, blond as Harold Haarfagar, a veritable Scandinavian colossus; Wyndham, clean-bred, clean-built, an English gentleman to his fingers' tips; old Ike James, whose tongue carried the idiom and soft-slurring drawl of his native South; Eugéne Brulé, three parts Quebec French and one part Cree; Carter, O'Gara, Bullen, Westwick, and half a dozen others.
Before the end of the week, the manager found himself in relations with 'the family' once more. A telegram from Milan announced that Mr. Francis Westwick would arrive in Venice on the next day; and would be obliged if Number Fourteen, on the first floor, could be reserved for him, in the event of its being vacant at the time. The manager paused to consider, before he issued his directions.
His nerves were unquestionably shaken; his hand trembled as he turned the pages, he started at chance noises on the staircase of the hotel. The scenario, or outline, of the Countess's play began with no formal prefatory phrases. She presented herself and her work with the easy familiarity of an old friend. 'Allow me, dear Mr. Francis Westwick, to introduce to you the persons in my proposed Play.
Westwick's extraordinary objection to the atmosphere of the bedroom upstairs. Without presuming to discuss the matter, he must beg to be excused from reserving the room for Mr. Westwick after what had happened. Francis answered sharply, a little ruffled by the tone in which the manager had spoken to him. 'I might, very possibly, have declined to sleep in the room, if you had reserved it, he said.
Troy was struck by the expression of blank fear which showed itself in the woman's face. 'Mrs. Ferrari, he said, 'have you heard what Mr. Westwick has just told me? 'Every word of it, sir. 'Have you any questions to ask? 'No, sir. 'You seem to be alarmed, the lawyer persisted. 'Is it still about your husband? 'I shall never see my husband again, sir.
Westwick pronounced the word "Venice," she started up among the servants at the lower end of the room, and called out at the top of her voice, "Go to our hotel, ladies and gentlemen! We get six per cent. on our money already; and if you will only crowd the place and call for the best of everything, it will be ten per cent. in our pockets in no time. Ask Master Henry!"
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