"Stop at the Hotel d'Annunzio, Strada Miratore," replied Dick promptly. He knew that bit.
"That is so," agreed the pedantic Mr. Jaques; "and above all, be discreet. Remember what I told you about 'silence'. I was given to understand, during a brief interview with your brother, that absolute discretion is necessary—not only for your own welfare but for the people you are about to join. Remember also to keep your French paper money in a different compartment of your pocket-book from your Italian notes, and examine your change carefully. There is a lot of bad money about in those countries, I believe."
"Like a lot of bacon we get in England, sir," added the irrepressible youth.
Mr. Jaques nodded. He could well afford to be sympathetic on that subject.
"You have your keys, I hope," he asked, returning to the lengthy exhortation to a juvenile traveller. "The douaniers—custom-house people—will want to examine your luggage, you know."
Dick produced the keys; a large jack-knife, a catapult, and a piece of whip-cord were disclosed during the operation.
"You had better let me have that catapult," observed the house-master. "I cannot conceive why you should want to take a thing like that away with you, especially as the possession of a catapult is an offence against the rules of the school."
Beverley junior surrendered the catapult cheerfully. After all it was one of three that he carried about his person.
Ten minutes later Mr. Jaques and Dick parted company on board the cross-Channel steamer, the former to return with a feeling that he had carried out a duty conscientiously, the latter realizing at last that he was actually on the threshold of a big adventure.
Dick remained on deck. Even the strong desire to go below, to see if he could prevail upon the engineer to allow him to enter the engine-room, was not enough to tear him from the sight of the receding shores of Kent and the constant stream of shipping passing to and fro on one of the main arteries of the world's maritime trade.