“The cabman is at the door. Did he see you enter?” asked Sophia.
“No. I am not such a fool as to show myself to him. It was very convenient to come along the end of the garden, where the wall is conveniently low. I am returning the same way, and I would advise you, my children, to vacate this place as soon as possible. As you are aware, we are due shortly in Venice. The first who arrives will wait for the rest. There, I again become Major Fraser.”
Placing in a leather bag his glass recipient and the folded paper, he shook hands with Agostini, smiled familiarly to Sophia, and disappeared as he had come. The Italian gave a kick at Hans’ cast-off clothes, and said—
“Milo, all this must disappear, my child.”
“In the kitchen fire,” said the Dalmatian, gravely.
“And you, Sophia, what do you intend to do? You have heard what our noble friend has just said. In my opinion, the best thing we can do is to start at once.”
The young woman made no reply. She passed into the salon with slow, steady steps, as though laboriously seeking the right form to explain her meaning. Sitting down, she took a cigarette, and, looking at the handsome Italian standing before her, said—
“Yes, indeed, I do think you would do well to start off. There is no reason for you to stay here. As for myself, a sudden disappearance would excite suspicion; it would, in fact, be a very tactless thing to do.”
“But will you not be suspected if you remain behind? Will no action be taken against you?”
“I? Suspected? In what way? Who could suspect me? Have I done anything whatever calculated to excite mistrust? There has been no one here except Marcel Baradier; he alone knows me.”