“Of course, Rome in September is only fit for us politicians and the English tourists. I wonder you are back so early.”
“Duty, my dear Vito,” replied the other. “One day, when you are Minister, you will find that you had much more leisure as advocate in Turin and deputy for Asti.”
“I suppose so,” he laughed. Then he added, “I met Angelo in the club an hour ago. He has also been in England, it seems. I think I shall go to England next summer—if you invite me.”
“Which is not likely.”
“Why?”
“Because when I am in England I like to be away from all my official duties,” frankly answered Morini. “They don’t even know who or what I am—and I delight in keeping them in ignorance.”
“Then why did you invite Angelo? I am jealous, you see.”
“Because I wished to consult him upon a confidential matter.”
“Regarding an army contract tendered you by a German firm,” replied the other, carelessly blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips as he stood with his back to the huge open grate. “You may as well tell the truth, my dear friend.”
The Minister, starting, looked at him sharply, and asked—