CHAPTER II.
A SHOCKED FATHER.
The sun was just rising from behind Vesuvius when one of those hideous and awkward-looking cabs which infest the streets of Naples crawled up to the park gates of a handsome villa on the road to Posilipo. Carelessly tossing a five-lire note to the driver, a young man whose travel-stained appearance showed traces of a long journey jumped to the ground and violently rang the bell. Some minutes elapsed before the porter was sufficiently aroused from his sleep to realize the fact that a stranger was waiting for admittance, and when he finally issued forth to unlock the gates, his face bore manifest evidence of the intense disgust with which he regarded the premature disturbance of his ordinarily peaceful slumbers.
“Is this the Count von Waldberg's villa?” inquired the stranger.
“Yes,” replied the porter in a gruff voice. “What of that?”
“I want to speak to him at once. Unlock the gate.”
“Indeed! You want to see his excellency?”
“At once!”