Manisty's look was vague and irresponsive.
'She was always delicate,' he said abruptly,—not kindly.
'What makes you look for them in Italy?'
'Various causes. They would think themselves better hidden from their English friends, in Italy than elsewhere, at this time of year. Beside, I remember one or two indications—'
There was a short silence. Then Manisty sprang up.
'How long, did you say, before the trap came? An hour and a half?'
'Hardly,' said the priest, unwillingly, as he drew out his watch.—'And you must give yourself three hours to Orvieto—'
'Time enough. I'll go and have a look at those frescoes again—and a chat with the woman. Don't interrupt yourself. I shall be back in half an hour.'
'Unfortunately I must write a letter,' said the priest.
And he stood at the door of his little bandbox of a house, watching the departure of his guest.