“No, not all; but you know Naples is called ‘the city of thieves,’ and we certain found it that. This fellow has appeared a heap decent, and——”
“Just so. I’ve taken a liking to him. He’s positively handsome, and he seems honest. I’ve urged the professor to retain him while we remain in Venice. But now——”
“We can’t even discuss the history of the city in his presence.”
All effort to induce Reggio to explain proved unavailing. He declined to explain, and he continued to urge them—in whispers—to talk of something else.
“I suppose we had better humor him,” said Gunn. “I can’t understand it, but just to please him we’ll drop it now.”
“I sure judge he has a streak of the daffy in him,” nodded Brad.
The silver moon rose wondrously fair. The evening was cool, still not cold. The professor and the boys drew some wraps about their shoulders, having come prepared for the change in the atmosphere.
In the moving gondolas lights began to twinkle and gleam. Soft laughter floated over the water.
Reggio’s oar moved silently in the water, and the gondola glided through alternating patches of moonlight and shadow, glory and gloom.
Beneath the moon, Venice was indeed at her best. The defects of age, seen in the broad light of day, were now hidden by a silver veil. In places lights gleamed through the casements.