Nino entered again.
“I’ve found a note, signor,” he said, “but it is addressed to you not to her maid. It was on the breakfast table in the pergola.”
Colin held out his hand for it and opened it. It was quite short.
“I was terribly happy here,” it ran, “and I have been terribly unhappy. So it is good-bye, Colin.”
He knitted his brows. Surely he had heard something very like this only a few hours before.... Then he remembered.
“No-one knows of this but you, Nino?” he asked.
“No, signor, I found it and brought it to you.”
Colin stood crumpling the note in his hand. A contingency had presented itself with the reading of that note, which he wished to be prepared for. If the implication there hinted at was true, he did not want to stew in that ebullition of scandal and gossip which would boil up if last night’s adventure were known. Three people knew of it, possibly only two now, himself and Nino.... For a few seconds he thought intently, then his face cleared.
“Now, listen to me, Nino,” he said. “You have found no note for me, you have brought me no note. The last you saw of the signora was when you brought us coffee last night after dinner in the garden. That’s all you know.... Ah, wait a moment: your bed. Move it back to your room, where of course you slept last night as usual. I’ll help you. Now——”
Colin laid his hands on the boy’s shoulders and looked him in the face.