“Yes, it is strange that he should not have said good-by to me,” I said musingly.
“Is it so strange?” queried the duke, and again he tapped me on the shoulder. “Come, come, Mr. Hume, have I not said that I am clairvoyant?”
“Your proofs have not been convincing. Suppose that you give me a better illustration of this remarkable gift of yours.”
“Well, then, I could have told you yesterday that your friend would bear watching.”
“You seem to know a good deal about the character of Mr. St. Hilary,” I said, and rose from my seat with a yawn.
The duke rose and took my arm. He had not yet done with me, it appeared.
“You walk toward the Piazza? Permit me to walk with you. Yes, yes, I know a good deal of your friend’s character. We have had many interesting talks together before now; and, let me tell you, Mr. St. Hilary did me the honor of bidding me good-by.”
“And is that the reason you are so happy?” I asked, staring at him. My question had been put seriously. For the first time this afternoon I was interested in his answer.
“So happy?” he retorted, shrugging his shoulders; then, with apparent frankness, “But I am to see Mr. St. Hilary again. Yes; I am to join him presently at Naples, perhaps, or Paris, or London. By the way, you have yet three days in which to prove me a liar,” he added good-humoredly.
“And three days are a long time sometimes,” I said curtly. “Good afternoon; I take a gondola here to my rooms.”