V
None was to be found in all Venice, nor in Milan, nor in Genoa, whither his hopeless quest had led him. Lazzaroni a-plenty ... but in all Italy, it seemed, there was not one real, honest-to-God, good old-fashioned American tramp....
... But he did find Coral Hicks....
There, in the harbor, was the huge outline of the Hickses’ yacht, the Ibis ... within the outline was the Ibis itself. Nick knew it well. He had bummed his board and lodging on it for five months once in the good old days before Susy and the checks had mesmerized him.
There was something so restful about the Hickses, so substantial, so solvent. Good old Papa and Mamma Hicks, solid three-dimensional people.... Papa, especially, had a wonderful figure—one large digit, backed by six ciphers and a decimal point.
He could see them now, with their entourage—two secretaries, a doctor, a maiden lady known as Eldorada Tooker—though why so called, unless to supply Comic Relief, no one could say—and Coral, sole daughter of their house and heart, that still unmarried child of opulence.
One large digit, backed by six ciphers and a decimal point, contrasted with a small bank balance, backed by Susy’s grandmother’s pearl necklace ... what about that? He knew they would have to cast the pearls before the wolf, if they were to hang together much longer.... Susy would have to choose between her Nicholas and her necklace.... Was it right?... Was it fair to Susy to burden her longer?... The year was almost up.... Why not resign now—while the Ibis was at hand?... tutissimus Ibis!
He picked up the Daily Mail, ran his eye casually down its columns and read:
“Tragic Yachting Accident in the Solent. The Earl of Altringham and his son, Viscount d’Amblay, drowned.”