“At two o’clock in the morning exactly, please. Don’t come through the Piazza, and Liberty Street. Come round by the drive. [This was a sort of boulevard encircling the town, where the aristocracy was wont to ride and drive.] Things ought to be pretty busy about the bank by then, and no one will notice you. You have a revolver?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Don’t hurt anyone if you can help it; but if you do, don’t leave him to linger in agony. Now I’m off,” I continued. “I suppose I’d better not come and see you again?”
“I’m afraid you mustn’t, Jack. You’ve been here two hours already.”
“I shall be in my rooms in the afternoon. If anything goes wrong, send your carriage down the street and have it stopped at the grocer’s. I shall take that for a sign.”
The signorina agreed, and we parted tenderly. My last words were:
“You’ll send that message to Whittingham at once?”
“This moment,” she said, as she waved me a kiss from the door of the room.