The man was on his way to Italy for another whack at Norris, and I had been thinking that he was broke. He would resume his philanthropic rôle in Italy and probably scare Norris to death. He had, of course, read that fool item in some paper. There was but one thing for me to do: I must get there first and meet him in the corridor of the Grand Hotel upon his arrival. Fortunately, my business was pretty well cleaned up in preparation for a long rest of which we had been talking.
I telephoned to Betsey that we should probably go abroad that night and that she must get her trunks packed and on the way to the city as soon as possible.
“But my summer clothes are not ready!” she exclaimed.
“Never mind clothes,” I answered. “Breech-cloths will do until we can get to Europe, and there's any amount of clothing for sale on the other side of the pond. Chuck some things into a couple of trunks and stamp 'em down and come on. We'll meet here at six.”
Then I thought of my talk with Gwendolyn, and telephoned to young Forbes and told him that I was going to Italy, and asked:
“Any message to send?”
“Sure,” said he. “I'll come down to see you.”
“We dine at seven,” I said.
“Put on a plate for me,” he requested.
I had scarcely hung up the receiver when the bell rang and my secretary notified me that he had engaged a good room on the Toltec, and would be at my hotel in twenty minutes.