"I've found you then at last," said her ladyship, recovering fast.
"Robbins, go and tell that wretched Italian porter creature I will not
pay him another penny. No, say _soldi_, or _scudi_, which you like.
It's a gross imposition."
"Yes, my lady."
"Justine," continued her ladyship, "you understand the language?"
"No, my lady, not Italian."
"Then speak to him in French, it will impress the man. Go and see that
Robbins is not imposed upon. Now, Robbins, mind and be firm. This is
not London."
"No, milady."
"And don't lose any more luggage."
"No, my lady," said Robbins; and he left the room with Justine.
"Luggage, indeed," he growled; "all this row about a sandwich-box, and
she left it in the rack herself."
"Nevaire mind her, Rob--bain," said Justine; "take him coolly."
"Take _him_ coolly. Yes, ma'amselle, I can the governor; but her
ladyship."
"Ah, yais, she is a womans. But see me, I do not complain; I am drag
all ovaire Europe by her ladyship, who have rob me of my loaf till I
return and see him once again. I do not complain."
In the coffee-room her ladyship button-holed Lord Barmouth directly, and
then took Tom's seat at the table, while that gentleman grasped
Tryphie's hand.
"Oh, Tom," she said, "what news?"
"You've both come," he said shortly. "Is that all you have to say?"
"All? Ah, Tom dear, if you only knew how much."
This was accompanied by so pleasant a pressure of the hand that Tom's
acidity began to evaporate in gas, and he turned to help his father, who
was giving way under a vigorous attack. For as he approached the table
her ladyship exclaimed, with a warning motion of her index finger--
"Now, Barmouth, your gout is much worse."
"Ye-yes, my dear," said his lordship, "I'm--I'm afraid it is."
"Of course! You've been taking port wine recklessly."
"No, no, really, my dear: the port is so horribly bad that--"
"Then you've had Burgundy."
"Well--well, yes, a little, my dear."
"I knew it! What's this?" cried her ladyship, seizing the bottle on the
table. "Burgundy, of course."
"No, Barolo," said Tom. "Regular physic for gout, isn't it, gov'nor.
Take another glass."
"Shall I, my boy?" said the old man, hesitating.
"Of course," cried Tom, pouring one out, which his lordship eagerly
drank.
"Tom!" ejaculated her ladyship, whose breath seemed to be taken away by
the daring displayed.
"Physic," said Tom, sharply.
"Have you secured rooms for us?"
"Of course not. Only just knew you were coming."
"Then ring for the landlord; I shall now continue the search myself. I
have been much to blame in leaving it in other hands so long. But a
weak woman--"
"Who is?" said Tom, innocently.
"I am, sir," replied her ladyship. "I was not aware, when I entrusted
the search to my husband and son, that it was to be made an excuse for a
pleasant and expensive continental tour, with no results whatever but
the shrinking of a good balance at the bank, and a fit of gout?"
"Oh, bosh!" ejaculated Tom.
"No more gadding about; no more Burgundy and strong drinks. I mean to
find that wretched girl myself; the authorities shall intervene, and I
will do my duty as a mother."
"What shall you do?"
"Place her in a madhouse as sure as I stand here."
"Then you will not," said Tom, "for you're sitting."
"Reserve your ribald jestings, sir, till we return to town."
"All right," cried Tom; "then let me speak in a downright manner, my
dear mother. You can do just as you please, but I am now on the scent,
which I shall keep to myself; and I tell you this, old lady, I will not
have Maude--whatever her faults--ill-used."
"Hear, hear!" cried Lord Barmouth; but then he had had four glasses of
wine.
"Barmouth!"
"_Yes_--yes, my dear."
"Oh, what language, and to a mother!"
"There, there, stop that," cried Tom. "We are not at home, but at an
hotel, and the people won't understand tragic amateur acting."
"Tryphie, my child," cried her ladyship, after giving her son an
annihilating look, "come with me to our own apartments. Lord Barmouth,
summon the waiter, or no, come with me. Tryphie, you can ring and order
_dejeuner_, I wish to speak to these people in the hotel. I think I can
obtain some information here."
Lord Barmouth cast a despairing look at his son, and followed her
ladyship into the hall, while Tom had just seized the opportunity, and
Tryphie at the same moment, to embrace her in spite of a certain amount
of resistance, when there was a loud "Oh!" and he turned to find that
Charley Melton had entered the room.
"You here, Charley! Why, my dear old chap!"
They shook hands warmly, Tryphie following suit, and the pretty little
face flushed with pleasure and confusion.
"Why, Charley, you here!" cried Tom. "Stop, I know; you need not say a
word."
"You know?"
"Yes. How long have you been on the continent? Stop, you need not
answer. Ever since my sister eloped."
The young man bowed his head.
"And you've been after her all the time."
Melton bowed again.
"Then it was doosed good of you, Charley; but I don't see what we are to
do, old man. It's very horrible for all of us, but I can't see what is
to be done. I came out with the intention of dragging her home, but if
the poor girl is infatuated with the fellow our cause is lost."
"What do you propose doing then?" said Melton, hoarsely.
"Seeing her, and letting her know that when she likes to return home
there is a place for her, either there or with me. That's all."
"And you mean to let her stay with this--this scoundrel."
"Yes, Charley; I suppose he is her husband. We can do nothing."
"Have you any suspicion of where she is?"
"Yes, old man. In this town, and I have set a waiter to work to bring
me news. They're ten times better than detectives. But it's very good
of you, Charley, and I'm sorry I abused you so."
"You have been abusing me, then?" said Melton with an amused look.
"Yes, for giving up so easily," said Tom. "Oh, here's my man. I
suppose," he added hastily, as the hotel waiter entered, "some one for
me."
"Yes, milor, the head waiter from the Vesuvio."
"Show him in. Now, Charley, there'll be news."
"All right, get it then," said Melton, and he walked to the window,
while Tom turned to face a little dark Italian, with a face suggestive
of his being developed from a shaven rat.
The interview was short and decisive, and accompanied by much
gesticulation, terminating in a chinking of coin as the man left.
"There, old fellow," cried Tom, excitedly, "I've done more than you
have. I've run them to earth."
"You have? They are in Naples?"
"They are _here_!" cried Tom, excitedly. "In this very hotel, where
I've been drawn by a sort of filial--no, that's not it--fraternal
magnetic attraction, and now."
"Stop," cried Melton. "I thought you were not going to interfere."
"That's what I thought," said Tom, "a little while ago; but hang it all,
now I am under the same roof with the scoundrel who deluded my poor
sister away, curse his Italian blood, I'll strangle him."
"But you must be wrong, Tom; such a man as you suspect would not stay in
an hotel like this. What do you say, Miss Wilder?"
"I say," cried Tryphie, with a malicious look, "that there seems to be
some mistake."
"Tryphie--Tryphie, my child!" came from without.
"Coming, aunt," said the girl, rising.
"Not a word to the old girl, Tryphie," cried Tom.
"Not tell her?"
"Not a word. There, I beg of you."
"Very well," she said with another peculiar look and tripped out of the
room.
"That's better," cried Tom. "Now come along."
"Where are you going?"
"To _dieci otto_. That's where the man said they were--not _they_, he
said she was alone now. Come on: I'll get her away, and if he comes to
claim her, why then, damn him!"
"No violence, Tom, for your sister's sake. He may be there. Let me go
and see her."
"You? Not me, my boy. Why, I might mark the scoundrel, but you would
kill him."
"No," said Melton, thoughtfully, "I don't think I should do that to the
man she loved."
"You're a good fellow, Charley. There, I'll go. I haven't hunted them
all this time to give up at the last. Don't hinder me, old chap."
"But look here, there has been _expose_ enough. Had it not all better
be settled quietly?"
"But you can't settle matters quietly with an organ-grinder, Charley.
Look here, my plan is simple. I'll get Maude away, then it's a question
of pounds, shillings, and pence."
"In any case then, from respect to your sister, let the affair be
arranged quietly."
"Very well," said Tom, sulkily.
"You will let me go first--say, to prepare her for your coming?"
"No. I'll go."
"You do not wish to inflict pain upon the poor girl?"
"No. I want her home again, and free from this degrading tie."
"But suppose--"
"No, no--don't say that, Charley, old fellow. You couldn't look over
it. Impossible now, old chap. Poor Maudey, she'll have to be like a
widow to her very end. There: we shall have the old woman here
directly."
"Then you'll let me go and prepare your sister?"
"No; it's my business, sir. I'll do it myself."
"But you'll forgive her, Tom?"
"Perhaps. Now leave me alone. Stop, where's _dieci otto_?"
"Ask the waiter," said Melton, coldly, and he left the room.
"He needn't have turned rusty," grumbled Tom, crossing to reach the
bell: but at that moment her ladyship came in, hurriedly followed by
Tryphie and Lord Barmouth.
"No, no, my dear," said Lord Barmouth, who seemed to have been strung up
to resistance by some stirring news, and at a glance Tom saw that her
ladyship knew as much as he.
"Silence, Barmouth. Tryphie, ring the bell. I suppose there are police
of some kind in a benighted place like this. What number did he say,
Tryphie, _dieci otto_?"
"Yes, aunt dear, eighteen," said Tryphie, whose face was working and
eyes twinkling in a peculiarly malicious manner.
"Eighteen! That will do," cried Tom. "Here, governor, come with me."
"Tom! stop! Barmouth, I forbid--"
Her ladyship did not finish her speech, but hurried to the door,
followed by her niece--the door through which her husband had passed,
followed by her son.