“How much?”
“About four score scudi.”
“Corpo di Bacco! a good sum; where is it lying?”
“At my lodgings.”
“Your landlord can lay hands upon it?”
“He can by breaking open my box.”
“Good! now write out an order giving him authority to break open the box and send you the money. Some paper, Giovanni. Your ink-horn, Giacomo. Here, signor artista, write.”
Seeing that it would be useless to make objection, the artist consented.
“Stay!” cried the brigand, arresting his pen; “you have something besides money at your lodgings? You Ingleses always carry about a stock of loose property. I include them in the requisition.”
“There is not much to include. Another suit of clothes, but a trifle better than these you see on my back. A score or two of sketches—half-finished paintings—which you wouldn’t value even if the last touch had been given them.”