The order was delivered in such a commanding tone, and with such a military air, that the trooper obeyed mechanically, swung round on his heels, and tramped into the sitting-room with the card and the message, shutting the door behind him. When he reappeared a moment later, he left it open, stood at attention while the monk went in, and then shut it after him. He returned to his master’s boots fully resolved to play at the public lottery with the numbers corresponding to ‘Capuchin,’ ‘officer,’ and ‘surprise’ in the Book of Dreams, which contains the correct numbers for everything under the sun except winning.
The sunshine was streaming into the sitting-room when Padre Bonaventura entered, and Castiglione stood near the door to receive him, in slippers and a brown dressing-gown of nearly the same colour as his visitor’s frock.
‘As your business is urgent, Father, you will excuse my appearance,’ he said politely, but with distinct coldness, for he was almost as much surprised as his orderly had been. ‘May I ask what brings you to see me?’
Padre Bonaventura looked round the room, and then at Castiglione.
‘Shall we be interrupted here?’ he inquired. ‘My errand is very private.’
Castiglione’s bright blue eyes scrutinised the monk’s great head and eagle features. Being tolerably satisfied that the man was a genuine Capuchin and not a disguised thief, he opened the door and called to his orderly.
‘Let no one come in,’ he said, and he came back at once.
The two sat down on straight chairs by a table and looked at each other.
‘I come to you on behalf of a Roman lady,’ the monk began.
‘A lady!’