We were on Capo San Martino. This, being interpreted, is only Cape Martin; but as we had agreed to use the "dear old names," we could not leave out that of the poor cape only because it happened to have six syllables. We looked around. Before us were ruins—walls built of that unintelligible broken stone mixed at random with mortar, which confounds time, and may be, as a construction, five or five hundred years old.
"They—whoever they were—lived here?" I said.
"Yes."
"And it was from here that they were carried off?"
"It was."
"Were they those interesting Greek Lascaris?" said Mrs. Trescott.
"No."
"The Troglodytes?" suggested Mrs. Clary.
"No."
"The poor old ancient gods and goddesses of the coast?" said Margaret.