I volunteered no information. The cronies squirmed with curiosity. Several more mysterious symbols flitted across the room, and one of the tipplers, clearing his throat, suggested in the mildest of tones:—
“Hem—ah—you are German, perhaps?”
A tedesco being no unusual sight in Italy, the listeners showed only a moderate interest.
“No.”
The speaker rubbed his neck with a horny hand and turned an apologetic eye on his fellows.
“Hah! You are an Austrian!” charged another, with a scowl.
“No.”
“Swiss?” suggested a third.
“No.”
Interest picked up at once. A voyager from any but these three countries is something to attract unusual attention in wayside inns.