“I only wanted to know ... to know ... what Lord Evelyn is going to do about this matter.”  He jerked out the words like stones from a catapult.

Denis was silent for a moment.  He disliked being dragged into this revolting affair; but he had had to come and see Peter, since his uncle refused and he could not let Peter go unseen away.  He didn’t want to see him ever again, since he had behaved as he had behaved, but neither did he want to violate the laws of courtesy and hospitality.

“I don’t quite know,” he said, after a moment.

“Is he ... does he intend to prosecute?” Peter asked, blushing.

Denis answered to that at once:  “I shall certainly do my best to prevent anything of the sort.  I don’t think he will.  At present he is still very angry; but I think when he cools down he will see reason.  To prosecute would be to make himself absurd; he will see that, no doubt.  He values his reputation as an art connoisseur, you see.”  At the faint, cool irony in the words, Peter winced.

“Of course,” went on Denis, lighting a cigarette, “your brother will leave Venice at once, I suppose?” He passed Peter his cigarette box; Peter refused it.

“Naturally.  We mean to leave as soon as we can....  Thank you, that is all I had to say....  Good-bye.”

Denis got up, and Peter saw relief through the mask of politeness.

“Good-bye....  I needn’t say how sorry I am about all this.  It was hard lines on you being brought into it.”

He was making a transparent effort after friendliness; Peter almost smiled at it.  Poor Denis; what a relief it would be to him when the disreputable Margerisons were off the scenes.

Peter paused at the door and said, in a low, embarrassed voice, “Would you mind telling Lord Evelyn what I told him myself last night—­that I’m horribly sorry about it—­sorrier than I have ever been for anything....  It won’t make any difference to him, I know—­but if you will just tell him....  And I’m sorry it happened while you were here, too.  You’ve been dragged in....  Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Margerison.”  Denis was grave, embarrassed, restrained, and not unkind.  It was obvious that he had nothing to say about it all.

Peter left the Ca’ delle Gemme.

That afternoon Hilary received a note from Lord Evelyn.  It was to the effect that Lord Evelyn had decided not to bring an action, on the understanding that Hilary and his brother and Vyvian left Venice at once and discontinued for ever the profession of artistic advisers.  If any of the three was discovered engaging again in that business, those who employed them should promptly be advised of their antecedents.  They were, in fact, to consider themselves warned off the turf.  There was also to be a paragraph about them in the English art papers.

“Well,” was Peggy’s comment, “it hasn’t been such a grand trade that we need mind much.  We’ll all come back to England and keep a boarding-house there instead, and you shall paint the great pictures, darling, and have ever so much more fun.  And we’ll never need to see that Vyvian again; there’s fine news for the babies, anyhow.  And I will be relieved to get them away from the canals; one of them would have been surely drowned before long.  In London they’ll have only gutters.”