Griggs ordered something, which was brought after considerable delay, and he began to eat.
"We are not loquacious over our cups," remarked Dalrymple. "Should you mind telling me why you are anxious to get drunk to-night for the first time in your life?"
"I might ask you the same question," answered Griggs, cautiously.
"Merely because you proposed it. It struck me as a perfectly new idea. I have not much to amuse me, you know, and I shall have less when my daughter leaves me. It would be an amusement to lose one's head in some way."
"In such a way as to be able to get it back, you mean. I was walking this evening after the party, and I came to the Piazza Montanara. There is a big flagstone there on which people used to leave their heads for good."
"Yes. I have seen it. You cannot tell me much about Rome which I do not know."
"There were a lot of carriers drinking close by. It was rather grim, I thought. An old fellow there had a spite against somebody. You know how they talk. 'They may cut off my head there on the paving-stone,' the man said. 'If I find him, I kill him. An evil death on him and all his house!' You have heard that sort of thing. But the fellow seemed to be very much in earnest."
"He will probably kill his man," said Dalrymple.
Suddenly his big, loose shoulders shook a little, and he shivered. He glanced towards the window, suspecting that it might be open.
"Are you cold?" asked Griggs, carelessly.