The individual bowed politely and stepped back a little. He had a singularly worthy appearance, Malipieri thought, and he would have inspired confidence if employed in a bank; his thick grey hair was parted in the middle, and at first sight Malipieri felt perfectly sure that it was parted down the back. His brown eyes were very wide open, and steady, his slightly grizzled moustache was neither twisted straight up at the ends in the imperial German manner, nor straight out like a cat's whiskers, nor waxed to fine points in the old French fashion. It grew naturally and was rather short, but it hid his mouth almost completely. The man was extremely well dressed in half-mourning, wore dark grey gloves and carried a plain black stick. He spoke quietly and Malipieri thought he recognized the Genoese accent.
"Signor Marino Malipieri?"
"Yes," answered the architect, in a tone that asked the visitor's name in return.
"My name is Vittorio Bruni. May I have a few words with you?"
"Certainly," Malipieri answered, with considerable coolness.
"Thank you. I have been much interested by your discoveries in
Carthage, and if you would allow me to ask you one or two questions—"
"Pray come in."
"Thanks. After you."
"After you," insisted Malipieri, standing aside.
They went in. Before shutting the postern, the porter looked out into the street. It was almost deserted. Two men were standing together near the corner, apparently arguing some question, and stopping in their walk in order to talk more at their ease, as Romans often do. The porter shut the little door with a clang, and went back to his lodge. Malipieri and his visitor were already on the stairs.