‘You are coming to the villa to-morrow, remember, whether Jerry Junior turns up or not. I’ll write a note and invite him too—Gustavo can give it to him when he comes, and you needn’t bother any more about him.’
They found Gustavo hovering omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering for news; Constance summoned him to her side.
‘Gustavo, I am going to send you a note to-night for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. You will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?’
‘Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?’ Gustavo stared.
‘Yes, the brother of the signorina who came to-day. He is expected to-morrow or perhaps the day after.’
‘Scusi, signorina. You—you acquaint wif him?’
‘Yes, certainly. I have known him for six years. Don’t forget to deliver the note; it’s important.’
They raised their parasols and departed, while Gustavo stood in the gateway bowing. The motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts were labouring elsewhere.