"Do you think so?" observed Gartney serenely; "it strikes me that your 'seeing a lot' has been principally confined to pottering about this place in company with Miss Sheldon."
Otterburn looked a trifle sheepish at this very pointed remark, and resumed his cigarette with a nervous laugh.
They were seated under a mulberry tree, looking at the lake flashing in the brilliant sunshine, listening to a noisy cicada that was singing to itself in an adjacent flower-bed, and watching the brown lizards chasing one another over the hot stones of the parapet.
"Where do you want to go to?" asked the Master, after a pause.
"I was thinking of driving to Cantari. It's a queer old village, dating from the time of Il Medeghino."
"Who the deuce was he?"
"A pirate of this ilk, who used to sweep the lake with a fleet of ships."
"It wouldn't take a very big fleet to do that," said Otterburn, staring at the narrow limits of the lake. "I daresay one of our ironclads could have knocked the whole show to kingdom-come in no time."
"Very probably," replied Eustace dryly, "but luckily for Il Medeghino there were no ironclads in those days, and a good thing too. Torpedoes, Gatling guns, and dynamite have taken all the romance out of war. But this is not the question. What about Cantari. Will you come?"
"Well, I hardly know--I--do you think Miss Sheldon would care to come?"