"I cannot help it; but never mind me just now. I suppose you will leave to-night for Genoa; you ought to be there in thirty-six hours or so. Therefore you should see the Syndic, if he is at the place still, in two days from now. His letter to me gives you an opening. You can tell him I asked you to find out what effects Silwood left."
"That will do very well indeed," said Gilbert.
A few minutes later he bade his father good-bye, and left that evening for the Continent. In forty-eight hours he was in Camajore, and lost no time in hunting up Ugo Ucelli, its Syndic, or Chief Magistrate.
Ucelli, a medium-sized man of characteristically Italian appearance, received him with extreme politeness. When the Syndic understood Gilbert did not know Italian, he conversed with him in French, a language both were proficient in.
Gilbert made known who he was, and the errand on which, ostensibly, he had come.
"Ah! that poor Monsieur Silwood," said Ucelli. "His was an extremely sad case. But what would you? It was the will of God."
Gilbert kept his eyes fixed on the man, and studied his face closely, as if he could in that way penetrate its inmost secrets.
"The cholera was everywhere," continued Ucelli, "and many died besides M. Silwood. It has been a great calamity. Alas! but it is the will of God! the will of God!"
The repetition of the phrase irritated Gilbert.
"A pestilence is always terrible," he said, but somewhat bluntly. "You did all you could, I am sure, for Mr. Silwood."