"Out with it!" Lady Leason was watching his handsome face. "I feel a distinct 'pricking in my thumbs.' Oh, Bertram won't mind"—as she saw him glance at the Bishop—"I'll answer for him—he's never shocked!"
"Really, Laura!" her cousin protested.
"Man of the world—and a darling too." She gave him a look of real affection.
The Bishop blinked—"Well, Mr. McTaggart?"
"I was thinking of an adventure there"—Peter admitted—"nothing 'trés moutarde' ... but perhaps ... I'd better not."
"Do." Lady Leason drew the liqueurs nearer. "Some old brandy might give you courage?"
McTaggart was tempted. He saw in his mind a way of wrapping up the weak point in the story.
"Well—I'll risk it!" He emptied the glass, crossed his long legs and faced his audience.
"It happened on my first visit to Naples—I was yachting with some Roman friends, the Vivianis. The party consisted of my host and hostess and a man called Bellanti, his sister and myself. We touched there one evening to get supplies on our way back from Sicily, about nine o'clock. I remember Scirocco had blown all day—it was frightfully hot—we were all pretty limp. Viviani wouldn't stir and the Countess wanted bridge. They were four with Bellanti, so I thought I'd go ashore.
"I must say they did their best to dissuade me, and, of course, I'd heard no end of yarns about Naples at night, but I thought they were just travellers' stories! We lay a good way out in the Bay. It's awfully smelly right in the harbour. But I rowed in with four of the crew, who were to wait and bring me back.