"Exactly. Just what I expected. Pellegrini, the doctor, feared a
collapse, and told me so weeks ago. That I'm very sorry to lose you,
old chap, you know too well. But you'll be better in England. You're
homesick, and that never does in Italy, you know. I and my wife both
were so when I was first appointed here twelve years ago; but we've got
over it--you never have." Then he added: "By the way, have you seen old
Graniani to-day? He stopped me half an hour ago in the Corso Umberto
and asked if I had seen you this morning."
It was on the point of my tongue to tell Hutchinson all that had passed
in Florence on the previous day, but I thought it useless to trouble him
with what seemed but vague suspicions.
"Why does he want to see me?" I inquired.
"Oh, he has got something or other to sell you, I suppose," was the
consul's reply. "Somehow, Kennedy, I don't like the old fellow.
Whether it's his ugliness, his deformity, or his manner, I can't tell;
only, I instinctively dislike him--and more than ever when I met him
just now."
"Why?"
"Well, to me his manner was as though he expected to hear some grave
news regarding you."
"Grave news?" I echoed. Then it occurred to me that the old hunchback
was, of course, privy to the mysterious evil following the possession of
the "Book of Arnoldus."
"What grave news did he expect?"
"How do I know, my dear fellow? These Italians, and especially men of
his class, are so subtle and cunning that you can never get at the
bottom of their motives."
"But I've always given Graniani his price--with a little bargaining, of
course. Why, I've paid him hundreds of francs. You recollect what I
paid for that miniature of the missing dauphin of France?"
"But you obtained a gem, even though you had to pay heavily for it," was
my friend's answer. "If it had been in old Confessini's hands you'd
have had to pay double, or he would have sent it to London."
"I know that," I laughed. "Graniani has had some good things now and
then, and I've been a good customer; therefore I can't see why he should
entertain any hostile thought towards me."
"As I've already said, you never know the Italian character. The man
who is your best friend today will be your worst enemy tomorrow. That's
what makes life so insecure here and affrays with the knife so frequent.
All I can say is that I noticed about the old scoundrel a distinct
expectation to hear bad news of you, and I judged from his manner that
he was disappointed when I told him that for aught I knew you were all
right. If I were you I wouldn't have any more dealings with him. Now
you're leaving Antignano, cut him. He has served your purpose well, and
you can't afford to be mixed up in any quarrel with a man of his stamp."
"Yes, I will," I answered. "I don't like him myself. Of late he has
been far from straight."
"And of late, it seems, he has been making secret inquiries of one of
the Italian clerks here about your antecedents in England."
"Whatever for? How can my antecedents concern him?"
"Ah, that's the point, my dear Kennedy. He's forming some ingenious
plot or other; therefore we must be on the alert. When a man bribes one
of the clerks to obtain information about an Englishman's past, his
parentage, and all the rest of it, there's something devilish suspicious
about it."
"I should think so! I wonder what the old scoundrel is up to?"
"Some blackmailing business or other, most probably. If so, act with
discretion, and we'll have a chat with the chief of police. The present
_questore_ is terribly down on blackmailers."
"But what can be the motive?"
"That's more than either of us can tell. We must watch and form our own
conclusions," was the consul's reply, leaning back in his white linen
suit and stretching his arms above his head. "You see now," he added,
"why I am in favour of your leaving Tuscany without delay."
"Yes, I see. But there's some mystery about old Graniani, and we ought
to clear it up."
"Why should we trouble to do so?" he asked.
I had told him nothing about the incident which had occurred to arouse
my suspicions while I was waiting for the fat prior of San Sisto;
therefore, in a few words I briefly recounted what I had witnessed.
"Strange?" he exclaimed. "Remarkably strange! We must watch him,
Kennedy. It almost looks as if, for some mysterious reason, he means
mischief."
We agreed as to this, and then fell to discussing the best means by
which I might get rid of my house and have my collection of antiques
packed for transmission to England.
Soon after noon I returned home to luncheon, and in crossing the Piazza
Vittorio Emanuelle to take the electric tram my eyes caught a glimpse of
a neat female figure in black, which struck me as strangely similar to
that of the dark-eyed woman who had been closeted with the fat prior in
Florence on the previous day. My first impulse was to turn and follow
her, but not being sufficiently certain of her identity, I stepped upon
the tram, although sorely puzzled. Was she in Leghorn for some secret
purpose? I wondered. Somehow I felt convinced it was she.
On my arrival home, however, my suspicion became more than ever aroused,
for I found old Nello in a terrible state of anxiety. On getting up he
had discovered that my bed had not been slept in, and that I was absent.
Being Italian, he feared that some _disgrazia_ had happened to me.
Then, when I assured him that I had merely been out for a long walk
instead of sleeping, he said:
"The hunchback antique dealer is awaiting you, signore. He says it is
most important that he should see you, so I have shown him upstairs to
the study."
His announcement took me aback. The old scoundrel was the last visitor
I expected. Nevertheless, I drew a long breath to steady my nerves, and
with calm resolution mounted the stairs.