"Oh--? Really?" he questioned lightly. (His heart, I think,
dropped a beat, all the same.) "Ang," said Marietta. "She came with the most Eminent Prince
Cardinal. They came in the carriage. She stayed half an hour.
She was very gracious."
"Ah?" said Peter. "I am glad to hear it."
"She was beautifully dressed," said Marietta.
"Of that I have not the shadow of a doubt," said he.
"The Signorina Emilia drove away with them," said she.
"Dear, dear! What a chapter of adventures," was his comment.
He went to his rustic table, and picked up his book.
"How the deuce did that come there?" he wondered, discovering
the snuff box.
It was, in truth, an odd place for it. A cardinal may
inadvertently drop his snuff box, to be sure. But if the whole
College of Cardinals together had dropped a snuff box, it would
hardly have fallen, of its own weight, through the covers of an
open book, to the under-side thereof, and have left withal no
trace of its passage.
"Solid matter will not pass through solid matter, without
fraction--I learned that at school," said Peter.
The inference would be that someone had purposely put the snuff
box there.
But who?
The Cardinal himself? In the name of reason, why?
Emilia? Nonsense.
Marietta? Absurd.
The Du-A wild surmise darted through Peter's soul. Could it be?
Could it conceivably be? Was it possible that--that--was it
possible, in fine, that this was a kind of signal, a kind of
summons?
Oh, no, no, no. And yet--and yet-No, certainly not. The idea was preposterous. It deserved,
and (I trust) obtained, summary deletion.
"Nevertheless," said Peter, "it's a long while since I have
darkened the doors of Ventirose. And a poor excuse is better
than none. And anyhow, the Cardinal will be glad to have his
snuff."
The ladder-bridge was in its place.
He crossed the Aco.