"I drive you at Villa Bianca quveek, sir," he said. "I spik Engleesh. Liva Noo York two year. I name John. You wanta me drive you, né?"
Chesney glanced around with a start; then clambered painfully into the carrozzella.
The man gave his old screw a flick, it started forward in a gallant shamble.
"Hold on!" cried Chesney.
The vetturino nearly drew the poor nag onto its haunches.
"Hé? What's it?" he asked.
Chesney pointed with his stick at Lavatelli's sign.
"Is that a good chemist's?" he asked.
"Hé?" said the vetturino, glancing where the stick pointed. "You say Lavatelli—is he good?"
"Yes," said Chesney.