"Do you know these ladies?"
"Do you?" insolently.
"My knowing them does not matter. But it is any gentleman's concern when a man gives pursuit to a lady who does not wish to meet him, even in Monte Carlo."
"A lady? Grace of Mary, that is droll!"
Hillard released the imprisoned arm, consciously chilled by the tone. There was a patent raillery, a quizzical insolence, which convinced Hillard that the Italian had not given chase out of an idle purpose. While this idea was forming in his mind, the Italian inspected his cuff, brushed his sleeve, and then recalled that he was bareheaded. He laughed shortly.
"We shall meet again," he said softly.
"I hope not," replied Hillard frankly, at the same time placing himself so as to block any sudden attempt to take up the chase. "However, you may find me at the Hotel de Londres."
The Italian laughed again. "You understand the language well," debatingly.
"And the people, too." Hillard had no desire to pass the time of day with his opponent.
"Well, I have said that we shall meet again, and it must be so."