"DEAREST,--Been away from Rome for a few days, and hence the delay
in answering your charming message. Don't trouble a moment about
the dead-and-buried nightmare. If the story is true, so much the
better. R. R. _is_ dead, thank God, and her unhappy wraith will
haunt your path no more. But if Dr. Roselli knew nothing about
David Rossi, how comes it that David Rossi knows so much about Dr.
Roselli? It looks like another clue. Thanks again. A thousand
thanks!
"Still no news from London, but though I pretend neither to
knowledge nor foreknowledge, I am still satisfied that we are on
the right track.
"Dinner-party to-night, dearest, and I shall be obliged to you if
I may borrow Felice. Your Princess Potiphar, your Don Saint
Joseph, your Count Signorina, your Senator Tom-tit, and--will you
believe it?--your Madame de Trop! I can deny you nothing, you see,
but I am cruelly out of luck that my dark house must lack the
light of all drawing-rooms, the sunshine of all Rome!
"How clever of you to throw dust in the eyes of your aunt herself!
And these red-hot prophets in petticoats, how startled they will
soon be! Adieu!
"BONELLI."
As the _coupé_ turned into the Piazza Navona, Roma was tearing the
letter into shreds and casting them out of the window.