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Zanti, the first day at school, the day when he said good-bye to Cards, the hour, at the end of it all, when they hissed him, that last evening with Stephen, the day with his mother ... and then, quite lately, that afternoon when Mr. Zanti, the little girl.
Zanti, Herr Gottfried, and Norah Monogue, and for his health one had only to look at him! "So died Reuben Hallard, a fool and a gentleman!" His excitement was tremendous; his cheeks were flaming, his eyes glittering, his heart beating.
The terrors of Scaw House were as nothing beside that little grey town with the waves breaking on the jetty, the Grey Hill above it, the twisted cobbled streets. The morning wind blew up the platform, the train rolled in; there were porters, but Mr. Zanti had only a big brown bag which he kept with him. Soon they were in corners facing one another.
Zanti, by the aid of a candle, climbing into bed. But some time passed before he had courage to fall asleep again. On the next afternoon about six o'clock, Mr. Zanti, accompanied by the languid and shabby gentleman whom Peter had noticed before, appeared in the shop. "Signor Rastelli," said Mr.
Zanti was attached to him; he had often said that he looked upon him as a son, and sometimes it seemed to Peter that the strange man was about to make some declaration, something that would clear the air, and explain the world but he never did. Peter had discovered strangely little about him. He knew now that Mr.
But wait I will write a note that you shall take to him and then when he comes back from Spain " He went to his table and began to write eagerly. Mr. Zanti, meanwhile, went round the room on tip-toe, examining everything, sometimes shaking his huge head in disapproval, sometimes nodding his appreciation. Peter wrote: Dear, Dear Stephen, I am furious, I hate myself.
It was odd that Stephen the elder and Stephen the younger should have been the only two persons in his life to find the real inside of him they, too, and perhaps Norah Monogue. But, otherwise, not Bobby, nor Cards, nor Alice Galleon, nor Mr. Zanti nor Clare. Not Clare. He faced the fact with a sudden shudder.
It is black now, but in a moment the flames of the sun will leap upon it, and good omens will send them all singing down the hill. On Tuesday evening Peter slipped for a moment into Zachary Tan's shop and told Mr. Zanti that he would be on the station platform at half-past seven on the following morning. He could scarcely speak for excitement. He was also filled with a penetrating sadness.
Emilio Zanti closely, and he decided that his smile was not real, and that it must be very unpleasant to have a bald head. He also noticed that he said things in a funny way: like "ze beautiful country zat you 'ave 'ere with its sea and its woods" and "I 'ave the greatest re-spect for ze Englishman" also his hands were very fat and he wore rings like Zachary.
Zanti with a smile gave him his accustomed greeting. In the doorway at the other end of the shop the Russian girl was standing, one arm on the door-post, staring, with her dark eyes, straight through into the gloomy street. "What are you all waiting for?" Peter said to the motionless figures. With his words they seemed at once to spring to life. Mr.
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