“That is good!” said he. “That muddles him up.... Yes, signor, it is as you say. If Tiberio were very wicked, he and the devil would be very good friends. Do you believe in the devil, signor, in England?”
“We’re not quite sure. And in Capri, Nino?”
“Not when the sky is blue, like ... like the signor’s eyes,” said Nino. “But when there is scirocco, we are not so certain.”
The prow of the boat hissed and was quenched against the sandy beach. There, under the awning of the stabilimento, was Violet, rather fussed at the leisurely progress of Colin’s boat, for in two minutes more the funicular would start, and if they missed that there was the dusty drive up to the town.
“Quick, darling, quick,” she called out. “We have only a couple of minutes.”
“Oh, don’t fuss,” said he. “Run on, if you want to. Nino and I are talking folk-lore.”
He felt in his pockets and spoke in Italian again.
“Nino, I haven’t got a single penny,” he said, “to pay you for your boat. If you are in the town to-night, come to the villa and I will pay you. If not, to-morrow. I shall want your boat again at ten.”
“Sicuro!” said the boy. “Buon appetit.”
He stepped into the water and held out his bare arm like a rail for Colin to lean on as he jumped on to the beach.