Beppo was taking the afternoon train to Italy, and it had been arranged that the carriage which brought the Count and Countess back from seeing their son off should take Lily and her luggage to the Convalescent Home.
While all these kindly arrangements were being made, and especially when she heard Cristina say: “I shall miss you, Mademoiselle. Do not stay too long away,” she felt as if she must come back just for a few days. But all that could be settled later on.
Meanwhile, she was determined to do everything in her power to make the last hours of Beppo’s stay at La Solitude pleasant. She wanted him to feel that she had really forgiven him that wild, strange, terrifying scene in the mountains. So, when he asked her to take a last walk with him, she willingly assented.
They had been out for nearly an hour, and were on their homeward way, when they stopped a moment on a path which seemed as if cut out of the mountain side.
Below was a sloping carpet composed of the tops of olive trees, and Lily felt a sensation of delight come over her as she looked at the wonderful panorama spread out before them.
“While you are at the Home,” said Beppo suddenly, “do not do what I am told many of the English nurses did here during the war—that is, take a walk all by yourself each afternoon. It is not safe to do so.”
“Surely you exaggerate the danger,” said Lily, smiling.
“A mysterious murder was lately committed just below the spot where we stand,” observed Beppo impressively. “I mentioned it to mamma, who was much upset and begged me to say nothing to papa or Cristina. So will you keep what I am going to tell you to yourself, Lily?”
“What a dreadful thing!” exclaimed Lily.
She told herself that it really did look as if poor Mr. Ponting’s friend had been right, and that there was a gang of bad characters—brigands, as the Countess called them—who lay in wait for any passer-by who looked as if he had money in his possession!