Gustavo bowed and turned down the corridor; there was a look on Tony’s face that did not encourage confidences. He had not gone half a dozen steps, however, when the door opened again and Tony called him back.
‘I am going away to-morrow morning—by the first boat this time—and you mustn’t let my aunt and sister know. I will write two letters and you are to take them down to the steward of the boat that leaves to-night. Ask him to put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they’ll get back here to-morrow. Do you understand?’
Gustavo nodded and backed away. His disappointment this time was too keen for words. He saw stretching before him a future like the past, monotonously bereft of plots and masquerades.
Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down and put it into instant execution. Opening his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and picked out the first hotel that was mentioned. Then he wrote two letters, both short and to the point; he indulged in none of Constance’s vacillations, and yet in their way his letters also were masterpieces of illusion. The first was addressed to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. It ran—
‘Hotel Sole d’Oro,
‘Riva, Austria.
‘Dear Miss Wilder: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than spending a few days in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed for time, and am engaged to start Thursday morning with some friends on a trip through the Dolomites.
‘Trusting that I may have the pleasure of making your acquaintance at some future date,
‘Yours truly,
‘Jerymn Hilliard, Jr.’
The second letter was addressed to his sister, but he trusted to luck that Constance would see it. It ran—