‘You must have a bad memory, for I think you must have known him quite well once.’
‘Well, certainly I have known a vast number of foreign fellows at one time or another,’ answered Tor, racking his brains in vain to remember the name of Pagliadini in connection with Phil or himself, ‘but I certainly have no recollection of this chap.’
‘You will remember him when you see him, for he is very good-looking, in an Italian sort of style.’
Tor was not at all anxious to meet this fascinating foreigner, and mentally consigned him to the infernal regions with hearty goodwill. If he really had known Phil in past days, he would certainly fail to recognise the present Philip Debenham, and more likely than not would be able again to identify him as Torwood. Altogether, it was as awkward an incident as could well have occurred, this sudden advent of the Italian into the Merediths’ household.
‘Might have been another Debenham he knew,’ suggested Tor, by way of saying something.
‘It couldn’t be that, because he knew Mr. Torwood too,’ answered Roma.
Again Tor registered a mental aspiration that the gentleman and his knowledge might be consigned to a warmer region than that of England, and determined more resolutely than ever to avoid a meeting.
‘Well, I dare say I have met him somewhere; but he can’t have made a deep impression upon me, as I have no recollection of his name. One doesn’t keep all one’s acquaintances in one’s head for evermore; and as he might be pained by my oblivion, I’d better not meet him, I think. Good-bye, Roma. I’m glad your father is better. I’ll come and see him some other day, when I’ve more time.’
‘Must you go now? He will be sorry not to see you. You have hardly been here a minute.’
‘Maud wanted me to ride with her as soon as it grew a little cooler. I think I will do so now. That Signor will engross your father quite enough for one day. He ought not to talk too much, you know.’