‘You seem to know all about it,’ he said. ‘That must be the one. If I were you I would not go to such places. Do you remember the number?’
The young lieutenant remembered it only too well, and gave it glibly.
‘You will never tell anybody that I’ve been there, will you, Captain?’ he added.
‘Certainly not! It is no business of mine, but I advise you to give it up.’
Castiglione destroyed the note he had begun to write and went away, delighted with himself, and almost forgetting de Maurienne and Teresa Crescenzi. He looked at his watch. It was now one o’clock. The gambling den did not open till three, but he would have to go home to change his clothes. What he hoped for was that he might find the proprietor in the house before its clients were admitted. The interview might be a long one, but it was important that the right person should be altogether at Castiglione’s disposal while it lasted, and that the place should be quiet. Between three and five there would be plenty of time to find his colonel and to procure two brother officers to see him through the affair.
He had never fought a duel, but was not much disturbed by the prospect of one, though an ordinary encounter with sabres is a much more serious matter in Italy than in France or Germany. He had never had a quarrel, because he was not the sort of man whom most people cared to meddle with, and also because the life he had led for so many years had never brought him into trouble. A man who does not excite the jealousy of other men, who pays his debts, helps his friends when he can and never asks for help, may easily spend his life in the Italian Army without ever being called out.
CHAPTER XX
An hour later Castiglione was admitted to the little house in Via Belsiana by a small man with eyes like a ferret and reddish hair, who shut the street door at once but did not seem inclined to let the visitor pass beyond the narrow hall without some further formality.