“Do you mean to say I have to pay their hotel-bills?”

“If they have plenty of money, certainly not; but you must find out.  You must take the bull by the horns.  It is far more likely that they have so little money that they may be becoming anxious.  Then you must use a firm hand—­I mean with Natalie.  Her mother will acquiesce.  And you can tell Natalie that if she would buy something—­some dress, or something—­for the mother of old Calabressa, who is still living—­at Spezia, I think—­she would make the old chap glad.  And that would be a mark of my gratitude also; you see, I have never had even the chance of thanking him as yet.”

Lord Evelyn rose.

“Very well,” said he, “I will send you a report of my mission.  How am I to find them?”

“You must find them through Calabressa,” he said, “for I have not got their address.  So you can start this evening?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Then I will telegraph at once to Calabressa to let them know you are coming.  Mind you, I am very grateful to you, Evelyn; though I wish I was going in your stead.”

Lord Evelyn got some further instructions as to how he was to discover Calabressa on his arrival in Naples; and that evening he began his journey to the south.  He set out, indeed, with a light heart.  He knew that Natalie would be glad to have a message from England.

At Genoa he had to break the journey for a day, having some commission to perform on behalf of the Society:  this was a parting bequest from Gathorne Edwards.  Then on again; and in due time he entered Naples.

He scarcely noticed, as he entered the vehicle and drove away to his hotel, what bare-footed lads outside the station were bawling as they offered the afternoon papers to the newly-arrived passengers.  What interest had he in Zaccatelli?

But what the news-venders were calling aloud was this: 

“The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!  Death of Zaccatelli!  The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!”

CHAPTER LVII.

FAREWELL!

“Natalushka,” said the tender and anxious mother, laying her hand on the girl’s head, “you must bestir yourself.  If you let grief eat into your heart like that, you will become ill; and what shall we do then, in a strange hotel?  You must bestir yourself; and put away those sad thoughts of yours.  I can only tell you again and again that it was none of your doing.  It was the act of the Council:  how could you help it?  And how can you help it now?  My old friend Stefan says it is beyond recall.  Come, Natalushka, you must not blame yourself; it is the Council, not you, who have done this; and no doubt they think they acted justly.”

Natalie did not answer.  She sighed slightly.  Her eyes were turned toward the blue waters beyond the Castello dell’ Ovo.

“Child,” the mother continued, “we must leave Naples.”