“Let me tell you the rest of the story,” pleaded Beppo eagerly. “It is really very interesting—and full of curious, mysterious points.”
His mother turned and looked at him. “Tell me quickly, dear child, for I have things to do this morning.”
He went on, eagerly: “Mme. Sansot did tell the police of the old man’s disappearance; but he was so exceedingly eccentric, and paid his bill from day to day—so the police made up their minds that he had slipped off to Nice. The shabby portmanteau which he left at the hotel—I was shown it this morning—was not worth more than thirty or forty francs and only had a change of linen in it, and an old pair of boots.”
“Pray do not talk of this painful affair before your father,” said the Countess in a low voice. “And I need hardly warn you not to say anything about it before Lily either.”
“I don’t see why I should not tell papa,” said Beppo quickly. “I think it would interest him very much. There is nothing more exciting, mamma, than a murder mystery. I confess that among the most interesting hours of my life were those spent by me at the Murri trial. You will remember that Livia was determined to go to it, and that I escorted her on that occasion.”
“Yes, and I thought it horrible that a woman should wish to be in any way associated with such an affair!” exclaimed the Countess. “It is one of the things about our dear Livia that I have always remembered with distaste and disapproval.”
The young man shrugged his shoulders. He was sorry he had mentioned the Marchesa Pescobaldi.
“Your father is not well,” went on the Countess, “and I should not like him to hear, even less to see, anything of a painful nature.”
“He is bound to hear of it,” said Beppo positively. “The whole of the Condamine is ringing with the story. You see, it is not in any way mixed up with the Casino, and therefore no great effort is being made to hush the matter up. However, I will do as you wish—I will say nothing about it. But you must permit me, mamma, to be interested in the affair! In fact, with your permission, I shall go off now and investigate the spot where the body was found.”
He waved his hand, and smiled at her, telling himself with a little pang of concern, for he was an affectionate if a selfish son, that his mother had grown very much older in the last two or three years. It was she who looked ill to-day—not his good, easy-going papa.