Meadows failed to return. Perhaps she had met some friend of
neighbour who was keeping her to dinner together with the child. The
old woman seemed unwilling or unable to give him any information as to
her whereabouts. After waiting an hour, he scribbled a short note, left
it on the writing-table, and took his leave. The eyes of that fierce
creature followed him right out of the garden. So did the scent of
roses. . . .
The afternoon was drawing to its close as Mr. Heard, in a placid,
contemplative frame of mind, once more drew nigh the pink ramparts of
the Old Town, purposing to find his way home on foot.
He entered the most westerly of its four gateways. There were stone
seats within the structure on either side of the road, convenient for
sheltering from sun or rain. Passing under the vaulted roof he met
Count Caloveglia, that handsome soldier-like personality, who instantly
recognized him and greeted him in friendliest fashion.
"Will you do me the pleasure of coming to my house, and allow me to
offer you a cup of tea? It is visible from here--that rounded portal, do
you see? with the fig tree leaning over the street.
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