[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]

[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]

PIKE [reading]. "I am sorry old man Simpson's daughter thinks of buying a t.i.tle. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.

[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]

"I haven't forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she'd come back some day and marry a man from home."

I don't wonder she said she hadn't read it!

[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]

But she _had_--and she didn't go away--that is, not _right_ away!

[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]

HORACE [speaking as they enter]. But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr.

Pike positively refuses.

HAWCASTLE. Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a nun.

[HORACE goes into the hotel.]

My dear Pike, there is a certain question--

PIKE [in his mildest tone]. I don't want to seem rough with you, but I meant what I said.

HAWCASTLE. Imagining I did not mean _that_ question--

PIKE. Then it's all right.

HAWCASTLE. Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment--[he speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights begin to appear in the windows]--of certain other unfortunates who may be, to speak vulgarly, wanted--by the police.

PIKE [coolly]. You're anxious about that, are you?

HAWCASTLE. So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere--strange to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose kind heart has thus betrayed him--[he turns up sharply toward the lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice lifting]--is two years' imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.

PIKE [gently]. Well, being in jail _any_ place ain't much like an Elks'

carnival.

HAWCASTLE. There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he happened to be--as it were--caught in the act!

PIKE [grimly]. Talk plain; talk plain.

HAWCASTLE. My dear young friend, imagine that a badly wanted man appears upon the pergola here and makes an appeal of I know not what nature to one of your fellow-countrymen, who--for the purposes of argument--is at work upon this car. Say that the too-amiable American conceals the fugitive under the automobile, and afterward, with the connivance of a friend, deceives the officers of the law and shelters the criminal, say in a room of that lower suite yonder.

[His voice shows growing excitement as a man's shadow appears on the shade of the window nearest the door.]

Imagine, for instance, that the shadow which at this moment appears on the curtain were that of the wanted man--_then_, would you not agree that a moderate and reasonable request of your fellow-countryman might be acceded to?

PIKE [swallowing painfully]. What would be the nature of that request?

HAWCASTLE. It would concern a certain alliance; _might_ concern a certain settlement.

PIKE. If the request were refused, what would the consequences be?

HAWCASTLE. Two years, at least, for the American, and the friend who had been his accessory. Altogether I should consider it a disastrous situation.

PIKE [thoughtfully]. Yes; looks like it.

HAWCASTLE [with sharp significance]. If this fellow-countryman of yours were a.s.sured that the law would be made to take its course if a favorable answer were not received--say, by ten o'clock to-night--what, in your opinion, would his answer be?

PIKE [plaintively]. Well, it would all depend upon which of my countrymen you caught. If it depended on the one I know best, he'd tell you he'd see you in _h.e.l.l_ first!

[The two remain staring fixedly at each other as the curtain slowly descends.]

END OF THE SECOND ACT

THE THIRD ACT

SCENE: A handsome private salon in the hotel the same evening. There are cabinets against the walls, buhl tables, luxurious tapestried chairs, etc. At back, double doors, wide open, disclose a brilliantly lit conservatory and hall with palms and oleanders in bloom. On the left a heavily curtained window looks out upon the garden; on the right is a closed door. Unseen, an orchestra is playing an aria from "Pagliacci."

The rise of the curtain discloses PIKE sitting in a dejected att.i.tude in an arm-chair. He wears a black tie, collar and linen as before, black trousers, a white waistcoat, cut rather low, and a black frock-coat--"Western statesman" style--not fashionably cut, but well-fitting and graceful.

MARIANO pa.s.ses through the conservatory at back bearing a coffee-tray.

LADY CREECH, in an evening gown of black velvet and lace, follows with stately tread. HORACE, in evening clothes, follows, with MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY on his arm; she is in a handsome, very Parisian, decollete dress. They are deep in tender conversation.

ETHEL follows, on the arm of ALMERIC. She wears a pretty evening gown, ALMERIC in evening clothes; her head is bent, her eyes cast down.

A valet de chambre enters the salon from the hall. He touches an electric b.u.t.ton on wall near door. RIBIERE comes quickly and noiselessly from the room to the right. They stand bowing as VASILI enters through the conservatory. Valet immediately closes the doors. VASILI wears an overcoat trimmed with sables, a silk hat, evening clothes, and white gloves; order ribbon in his b.u.t.ton-hole.

PIKE [as VASILI enters]. I'm mighty glad you've come--I've been waiting.

VASILI [to RIBIERE, and speaking in undertone]. You have telegraphed for the information?

RIBIERE. Yes, sir.

[Valet, with coat, hat, etc., goes out, followed by RIBIERE.]

VASILI. I have dined with an old tutor of mine. Once every year I come here to do that.

[Valet returns with vodka and cigarettes, which he places on a table, immediately withdrawing.]