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"Ten days," Kitty murmured. She was more than pretty to-day, and there was malice aforethought in all the little ribbons and trinkets and furbelows. She had dressed expressly for this moment, but Merrihew was not going to be told so. "Ten days," she repeated; and mentally she recounted the pleasant little journeys into the hills and the cherry-pickings. "And dangling, dangling.
He would see her face this time; he would tear aside the mystery. She had made a great mistake? That was of small consequence to him. He could laugh at Mrs. Sandford's warning. He was no green and untried youth; he was a man. Then he laughed aloud. It was so droll. Here was Merrihew in love with the soubrette, and he himself.... Was he in love, or was only his fancy trapped? A fine comedy!
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.
"Smith, my boy," said O'Mally, moistening his lips, "you and I this night will pack up our little suit-cases and movimento, moto, viaggio, or whatever the Dago word is for move on. I'm out of the game; the stakes are too high. I pass, signorina." "How could you do it?" sobbed Kitty. Merrihew patted her hand and scowled. "What an ado!" said La Signorina, shrugging. "So you all desert me?"
Thank God!" "You are not sorry, are you?" "Sorry? In a way, yes. He was a blackleg, but it isn't pleasant to contemplate the manner of his end." "Well, I can frankly say that there's no such sentiment on my side. He'd have cut you down if I hadn't stopped him," said Merrihew, rubbing his swollen knuckles. "It was measure for measure: I should have killed him had not you and O'Mally interfered."
Hillard swore and Merrihew went white with impotent anger. If only he could hit something! The inspector smiled and went on with his deadly work. When he was certain that they could not possibly catch the train, he chalked the cases, handed the cigars to their owner, and pointed to a sign the other side of the barricade. "What shall I do now, Jack?" Merrihew asked. "I refuse to help you.
I have relegated my little romance to the garret of no-account things, at least for the present," said Hillard, with an enigmatical smile. He sought his watch. "Make up your mind at once; we have only twenty minutes." "Oh, divine afflatus! And you lay down the chase so readily as this?" Merrihew was scornfully indignant.
Tell your Kitty to strike for a return ticket to America before she leaves." "You think it's as bad as that?" "Look on me as a prophet of evil, if you like, but truthful." "I'll see that Kitty gets her ticket." Merrihew snapped the case of his watch and drew his legs from under the table. "I lost a hundred last night, too." "After that I suppose nothing worse can happen," said Hillard cheerily.
After all," with a second thought, "it's a good cause, and it might be just your luck to win. The masquerading lady! I'll stake my word that there is comedy within comedy, and rare good comedy at that. Monte Carlo it is." Merrihew danced a jig. Hillard stepped to the mirror and bowed profoundly. The jig ceased. "Madame, permit me, a comparative stranger, to offer you passage money home.
He would have put daylight through me at the first stroke." "I don't know about that," replied Merrihew loyally. "You are the crack fencer in New York." "But New York isn't Florence, my boy. I'll show you some fencing to-morrow. If my old fencing master, Foresti Paoli, is yet in Florence, I'll have him arrange some matches. New York affairs will look tame to you then."
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