"So I judged," said John Dorning dryly. Then with more enthusiasm, "I only wish I knew Italian antiques as well as you do, Count Torriani—and antiques are my business."
Both turned as Maria came toward them in considerable agitation. "A man named Minardi and a girl are here to see you," she announced in rapid Italian to Rodrigo. "I do not like his looks. I refused to admit him, but he has pushed his way into the outer hall." She indicated the draperies on the other side of the room.
"STOP! DO YOU WANT TO BE ARRESTED? THIS GENTLEMAN IS AN AMERICAN."
Rodrigo's face clouded. Damn the fellow's persistence. "Tell him to go away. I will not see him. Tell him I shall have him arrested if he continues to bother me," he instructed Maria.
She turned doubtfully. She lacked her usual faith in her sharp tongue in dealing with a calloused fellow like Minardi. She had taken but a step when the draperies parted and Minardi, wearing the same clothes, expression, and carnation as on the previous evening, bulked before them. He had heard Rodrigo's voice talking with Maria, and he was taking no chances. His fat, weak face was trying its best to assume hard, menacing lines. His ill-kept, corpulent body was drawn up as straight as possible with unrighteous indignation. He relaxed for an instant to turn around and drag by the wrist from the other side of the curtain his daughter, Rosa.
Rosa had been brought to the scene with some difficulty. She flashed indignation at her father through swollen eyes. Actually propelled now into the presence of Rodrigo, she glanced half defiantly, half shamefacedly at him, then stood regarding the floor.
Victor Minardi started at once toward Dorning, taking up again with undiminished vigor the torrent of abuse and threat which he had hurled at the American at the Café Del Mare. He was persisting in his belief that Dorning was Count Torriani, the man who was to pay.
Rodrigo stepped between the gesticulating Italian and the uncertain Dorning. "I am Count Torriani. Now, what is it you want?"