"Captain Cressingham," he said with a deprecatory shake of his head, "you must not ask me to betray my Master's secrets."
Paul accepted the rebuke with a good grace.
"You speak truth. I have no right to pry into his affairs. I apologize."
Secrecy is always suspicious. Lambro's reticence served but to whet Paul's curiosity. A weird interest began to gather around the unknown owner of Castel Nuovo, who was so studious of concealing his identity, who without previous warning came and vanished at irregular intervals on errands that necessitated a reserve in speaking of them.
At this point Jacintha reappeared carrying a lighted lamp.
"Would my lady like to retire now?"
Yes, my lady would, and arose for that purpose. Paul held the door as she passed forth.
"Good night, signorina."
She returned the valediction, accompanying it with a graceful inclination of her head, and a grateful smile that said as plainly as words could say, "But for you I should now be without bed."
The room to which Jacintha conducted Barbara was intended as a lady's bedchamber, as the toilet accessories sufficiently proved. A princess could not have found fault with its dainty tasteful appointments. And, surprising to relate, not a particle of dust was visible anywhere; the place was clean, swept, and garnished as if prepared that very day for the reception of a visitor.