Sir William and his wife intended to walk home. When it was cold they preferred to walk rather than go to and fro in a gondola; and as they were old residents, they knew every turn of the intricate burrowing chinks in all the quarters that serve as footways. When they took leave at one o'clock, Peter and Miss Senter, with American friendliness, accompanied them to the outer door. Peter was about to open this door when it was swung back, and a figure reeled in—Ercole. He had taken off his clown's dress, and wore now his gondolier's costume; but this costume was in disorder, and his face was darkly red—a purple red.
"Why, Ercole, is it you? What is the matter?" said Miss Senter, as he staggered against the wall.
"Oh, her Excellency the Consuless, I have been beaten!"
"Beaten? Where have you been? I thought you were down at the landing with Andrea," said Miss Senter.
"The antiquity-dealer suffocates," muttered Ercole. "And Giorgio—dead!"
This "dead" (morto!) even Peter understood. "Dead! What is he saying, Barly?"
"The man is saying, Mr. Senter, that an antiquity-dealer is suffocating, and that somebody he calls Giorgio is dead," translated the pink-cheeked, portly Lady Kay, in her sweet voice. "It's your gondolier, isn't it—the one who played the clown so nicely? What a pity! He has been drinking, I fear."
While she was saying this, Sir William was leading Ercole farther away from the ladies.
"Yes, he is drunk," said Peter, looking at him. "Too bad! We must have help. Let's see; Andrea is down at the landing. I'll get him. And you call Giorgio, Barly."
Here Ercole, held by Sir William, gave a maddened cry, and threw his head about violently.