" "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. It surprised her she hadn’t thought of it before! She tried to explain that she was going to pay him forty pounds without fail next week. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness.
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