“You live here at Mergellina?”
“Si, Signore.”
“Do you know any one called—called Buonavista?”
The eyes of Artois were fixed on the man’s face.
“Buonavista—si, Signore.”
“You do?”
“Ma si, Signore,” said the man, looking at Artois with a sudden flash of surprise. “The family Buonavista, I have known it all my life.”
“The family? Oh, then there are many of them?”
The man laughed.
“Enrico Buonavista has made many children, and is proud of it, I can tell you. He has ten—his father before him—”