He remembered, or affected to remember, nothing.
Leaving his shop, after buying half a dozen bead necklaces for civility, Eve found herself face to face with her Venetian admirer, upon whom she turned so dark a frown as to repel even that practised Lothario. She hurried back to Danieli’s, and arrived there flushed and breathless, and far too much exhausted to do justice to the simple little dinner of clear soup and roast chicken which Benson had ordered, a dinner served in her own sitting-room, which privilege of dining alone was Eve’s only extravagance in her travels.
Hetty questioned her sister closely, and reproached her for unkindness in going out unaccompanied; but Eve gave her no explanation of that excursion.
“You are not strong enough to walk about alone, dear,” the sister said tenderly. “You want a giraffe like me to give you an arm.” This was Hetty’s way of alluding to the tall slim figure which had been so much admired on the tennis courts of St. Moritz and Maloja.
Eve engaged a gondola next morning. It was to be her own gondola, and the gondolier was to give allegiance to no one else, so long as Mrs. Vansittart remained in Venice. She set out alone in her gondola directly after breakfast, in spite of Hetty’s remonstrances.
“I have some business in Venice that I must keep to myself, Hetty. It will be the greatest kindness in you to ask no questions.”
“You are full of mysteries,” said Hetty, “but I won’t tease you. Only take care of yourself, dearest, and don’t be unhappy about anything, for the sake of the sisters who idolize you.”
Eve kissed her, and went away without another word. Hetty marched about all the morning with Benson, who showed her St. Mark’s and the pigeons, and the Doge’s Palace, whisking her rapidly through all the picture-rooms, but not letting her off a single dark cell on either side the Bridge of Sighs.
Eve’s first visit was to the chief office of the Venetian police, where she found an obliging functionary, who, at her desire, produced the record of the unknown Englishman’s death.