Part 11 (1/2)

”This is absurd!” exclaimed the Colonel, testily. ”You're not talking sense.”

”That's a matter of opinion, sir; but I know my own business, and I'm going to get out of here.”

”Wait a week longer,” suggested Mary Louise. ”We are to sail ourselves on the boat that leaves Naples a week from Tuesday, and it will be nice for Alora and me to travel home together.”

”No; I won't wait. Get your things, Alora, and come with me at once.”

”Have you made reservations on the boat?” inquired Colonel Hathaway, refusing to be annoyed by the man's brusque words and rough demeanor.

”I'll do that at once, by telephone. That's one reason I came over.

I'll telephone the steams.h.i.+p office while the girl is getting ready.”

”I will go with you,” said the Colonel, as the artist turned away.

While Jones used the telephone booth of the hotel Colonel Hathaway conversed with the proprietor, and afterward with the hall porter, who was better posted and spoke better English.

”This is outrageous!” roared the artist, furiously bursting from the booth. ”To-morrow's boat is abandoned! The government requires it as a transport. Why? Why? Why?” and he wrung his hands despairingly.

”I do not know, sir,” returned the Colonel, smiling at his futile pa.s.sion.

The smile seemed to strike Jones like a blow. He stopped abruptly and stared at the other man for a full minute--intently, suspiciously. Then he relaxed.

”You're right,” said he coldly. ”It's folly to quarrel with fate. I've booked for a week from Tuesday, Hathaway, and we must stick it out till then. Do you take the same boat?”

”That is my intention.”

”Well, there's no objection. Now I'll go get Alora.”

But Alora, hearing of the postponed sailing, positively refused to return home with him, and Mary Louise, supporting her new friend, urged her to extend her stay with her at the hotel. Strangely enough, the more he was opposed the more quiet and composed the artist became. He even ceased to tremble and an odd apathy settled over him.

”The hall porter,” said the Colonel, ”thinks this is the safest place in Italy. The troops have been on the border for months and their positions are strongly fortified. There is no brigandage outside of Sicily, where the Mafia is not yet wholly suppressed.”

Jones grinned rather sheepishly.

”All right, take his word for it,” said he. ”And if you'll be responsible for the girl you may keep her till we're ready to sail.

Perhaps that's the best way, after all.” Then, without a word of good-bye, he entered his little motor car and started down the driveway.

”A strange man,” said the Colonel, looking after him. ”I wonder if it really was the war that frightened him--or something else--or if he was actually frightened at all?”

Alora laughed.

”You can't guess father, try as you may,” she said. ”Usually he is cold as ice, but once in awhile he gets these wild fits, which I find rather amusing. You can't understand that, of course, but if you were obliged to live under the same roof with Jason Jones you would welcome his outbursts as relief from the monotony of contemptuous silence.”

CHAPTER XII SILVIO'S GOLD

Jason Jones urged his little car to its best speed until he gained his villa. Entering the ground, he was confronted by his factotum, the Italian, Silvio.

He sprang out and approached the man.