"'Certainly, my good fellow, certainly . . . if you will call on me to-morrow at my lodgings . . . two doors from the embassy. . . . Dear me, how provoking! Would you mind, Algernon, lending me one of your cards? I remember now leaving mine on the dressing-table.'
"He fished out a pencil, took the card his nephew proffered and, having written down name and address, handed it to Badcock.
"'The door of grace, my friend, stands ever open to him who knocks. . . . Shall we say at ten-thirty to-morrow morning? Yes, yes, a very convenient hour for me, if you have no objection? Farewell, then, until to-morrow!' With a benedictory wave of the hand he linked arms with Lord Algernon and strolled away down the walk.
"'Badcock,' said I, stepping forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. 'Hark to the gong calling you to the masque!'
"But the creature stood as in a trance. 'His signature!' he answered in an awed whisper. 'The Archdeacon of Wells's own signature, and upon Lord Algernon's card!'—and I declare to you that he fell to kissing the pasteboard ecstatically.
"Well, he was past all reason. Luckily, having written it, I had his part by rote; and so, snatching his Menelaus' wig and beard, I ran towards the theatre.
"That, sir, is all my tale. The man is lost to me. He left Venice yesterday in the Archdeacon's carriage, but in what precise capacity—whether as valet, secretary, or courier—he would not impart. He told me, however, that his salary was sufficient, if not ample, and that he had undertaken as a repentant sinner to make himself generally useful. The Archdeacon, it appears, is collecting evidence in particular of the horrors of a Continental Sabbath.
"Addio, sir! For me, I have now parted with the last of my comrades, yet my resolution remains unshaken. On this sacred soil, where so many before me have cultivated the Arts, I will do more. I will make them pay. Meanwhile I beg you to accept my sincere regards, and to believe me
"Your obliged, obedient servant,
"Phineas Fett."