As a preamble La Signorina raised the inevitable veil to the rim of her hat. Worth sat down in the darkest corner whence he could without inconvenience feast his eyes upon her beauty. Her tale was short and lightly told, with an interpolation now and then by Kitty.
"I was very foolish," said the erstwhile prima donna. "I might have known that when one is unlucky one may become still more unlucky. The superlative of bad luck has been my portion. But I did so wish to win. I wanted to bring back enough gold to send you all to America."
"But what was to become of you?" asked Worth from behind his fortress of shadow.
"I?" She paused with indecision. The question was not expected. "Oh, Italy is my home. I shall find a way somehow. Put me out of your thoughts entirely. But I am sorry to bring you this bitter disappointment, for it must be bitter. You have all been so good and patient in your misfortune."
"Forget it," said O'Mally. "Sure, we're no worse off than we were before. And here we've had a whole week of hope and fine air-castles. I've seen 'em tumble down so often that I've a shell like a turtle's now. Forget it."
"But there is one thing I wish to understand thoroughly," put in Worth slowly.
"And that?" La Signorina was never sure of this man. He was deeper than the others; he had more polish, more knowledge of the world at large; he was a gentleman by birth. He was a puzzle, and at this period she was not overfond of shifting puzzles into answers.
"You have guaranteed our credit at this hotel. By what means?" Worth held her eye with courage.
"My word," she answered, finding that she could not beat down his eye.
"I know something of these foreign hotel managers. Words are all right, but they must be backed by concrete values." Worth's eye was still steady and unwavering. "If, as I believe, you have guaranteed our credit here by means of jewels, we must know."