"Ah—a-a-a-ah! Aunts? Step-cousins? Ivor Paul?"
"Yes; her cousin, her uncle's stepson—she had to go back to her own name. And then, that blessed book coming out and at once promising a boom, unexpectedly put me in funds to come and look after you myself. I was a good deal used-up, and ordered a rest-cure. As intelligence officer and paper correspondent I've done disguises before—the only way to get information—and incidentally I've picked up a lot of copy and been able to help Agatha Somers in that family trouble, too. I didn't mean to keep up the disguise more than to see you safe here at first. But it turned out to be so useful. And, I say, look here, you little silly; don't let's quarrel any more."
It was pleasant on the wooded steep; myrtle-bushes gave out a delicious aroma; innumerable bees made an organ-bourdon in grey masses of rosemary-bloom; grasshoppers chirped in shrill pleasure; loveliest tints and shadows were tangled in drooping olive-foliage; rugged peaks, soaring far above gorge and ridge, ran up into a velvety blue sky; and, looking far down the ravine's course, the connexions by marriage caught the deep warm bloom of a peacock-blue sea, glowing in full sunshine and crossed by silvery sails and long black hulls of steam vessels.
After all, a good hard shoulder is a pleasanter thing to lean one's head upon than a cold, sharp rock or a rough and turpentiny tree-trunk; and any more comfortable place to have a really good cry on has never yet been imagined. Besides, however perverse and exasperating they may be, husbands occasionally come in handy, when things suited to their obtuse intellects have to be done—bills paid—insolent landladies tackled—hotel accommodation provided.
So it was in a very light-hearted mood that Mrs. Allonby stepped out into the olive-grove and walked along the mule-path, when the sun was declining and western valleys were filling with purple shadow, and the light pad-pad of a patient, soft-eyed mule warned them to step aside, on pain of being jostled by his laden panniers, giving opportunity of answering a dark-eyed peasant woman's "Buon sera," and admiring her pleasant smile and white teeth, as she passed on, bearing her own burden behind her four-legged slave's.
"I always wanted to show you this bit," Ermengarde said, when the woods parted and sank at the top of the ridge and a sudden burst of broad purple sea glowed to the east, where the gorge opened, and a smaller bay disclosed itself on the west, all golden shimmer under a rose-gold sun. "And you had been seeing it all the time. What a fraud you are!"
"I tell you what, Ermengarde; let's have the boy out when your mother comes later on. She can bring him. Easter falls early; and, after all, the little chap might as well miss the fag-end of the term. That'll set the old lady up, eh? Italian lakes on the way home, or a look at Florence, or what?"
When they reached the hotel-gate, a woman with a tired, but serene and sweet, face came down the twisted pine-root steps from the convent, with a little start and flush of surprise at seeing them—the ex-anarchist now a respectable, clean-shaven Briton, with a stable-cap in place of the broad felt hat, and the cloak rolled in a neatly strapped bundle.
"Aha, my dear woman of mystery!" cried Ermengarde gaily, with open hands. "Found out at last! All your machinations unmasked and exposed! How are you? My best respects to you. I hear that you have been looking after a certain Mrs. Allonby—connected with the Allonby, don't you know—kind of dry-nursing the poor thing! If I'm not mistaken, you found her a pretty good handful, didn't you?"
"Well, pretty fair at times," she admitted, observing that Mrs. Allonby wore a diamond and pearl chain, closely resembling that flung to her by the Spaniard at the Carnival, and afterwards exposed for sale in a Monte Carlo window.