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Page 47
Philip had an inspiration. "You will have a lot to tell
Miss Abbott, Harriet, and she may have as much to tell you.
So I'll pay my call on Signor Carella, as you suggested, and
see how things stand."
Miss Abbott uttered some noise of greeting or alarm. He
did not reply to it or approach nearer to her. Without even
paying the cabman, he escaped into the street.
"Tear each other's eyes out!" he cried, gesticulating at
the facade of the hotel. "Give it to her, Harriet! Teach
her to leave us alone. Give it to her, Caroline! Teach her
to be grateful to you. Go it, ladies; go it!"
Such people as observed him were interested, but did not
conclude that he was mad. This aftermath of conversation is
not unknown in Italy.
He tried to think how amusing it was; but it would not
do--Miss Abbott's presence affected him too personally.
Either she suspected him of dishonesty, or else she was
being dishonest herself. He preferred to suppose the
latter. Perhaps she had seen Gino, and they had prepared
some elaborate mortification for the Herritons. Perhaps
Gino had sold the baby cheap to her for a joke: it was just
the kind of joke that would appeal to him. Philip still
remembered the laughter that had greeted his fruitless
journey, and the uncouth push that had toppled him on to the
bed. And whatever it might mean, Miss Abbott's presence
spoilt the comedy: she would do nothing funny.
During this short meditation he had walked through the
city, and was out on the other side. "Where does Signor
Carella live?" he asked the men at the Dogana.
"I'll show you," said a little girl, springing out of
the ground as Italian children will.
"She will show you," said the Dogana men, nodding
reassuringly. "Follow her always, always, and you will come
to no harm. She is a trustworthy guide. She is my
daughter."
cousin."
sister."
Philip knew these relatives well: they ramify, if need
be, all over the peninsula.
"Do you chance to know whether Signor Carella is in?" he
asked her.
She had just seen him go in. Philip nodded. He was
looking forward to the interview this time: it would be an
intellectual duet with a man of no great intellect. What
was Miss Abbott up to? That was one of the things he was
going to discover. While she had it out with Harriet, he
would have it out with Gino. He followed the Dogana's
relative softly, like a diplomatist.
He did not follow her long, for this was the Volterra
gate, and the house was exactly opposite to it. In half a
minute they had scrambled down the mule-track and reached
the only practicable entrance. Philip laughed, partly at
the thought of Lilia in such a building, partly in the
confidence of victory. Meanwhile the Dogana's relative
lifted up her voice and gave a shout.
For an impressive interval there was no reply. Then the
figure of a woman appeared high up on the loggia.
"That is Perfetta," said the girl.
"I want to see Signor Carella," cried Philip.
"Out!"
"Out," echoed the girl complacently.
"Why on earth did you say he was in?" He could have
strangled her for temper. He had been just ripe for an
interview--just the right combination of indignation and
acuteness: blood hot, brain cool. But nothing ever did go
right in Monteriano. "When will he be back?" he called to
Perfetta. It really was too bad.
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