The Spectator., 1915-07-02
CHAPTER VIII.
Cife's Ccunter.Claim.


 No word of mine can express my ab- solute sad abject amazement when I faced the man, whom 1 had seen ly- ing cold and dead upon that gray stone slab in the mortuary of Dumfries.
 My eye caught the customer who. on the entry of Olinto, had dropped his paper and sat staring at him in wonderment. The detective had evi- dently been furnished with photo graph of the dead man, and now. like myself, discovered him alive and liv- ing
 "Signor Padrone." cried the man whose appearance was so absolutely bewildering. How did you find me here? I admit that I deceived you when l told you I worked at the Mi lano, he went on rapidly in Italian. But it was under compulsion-my ac- tions that night were not my own but those of others"
 Yes. l understand" said. But come out into the street. I don't wish to speak before these people. Your padrone knows Italian, no doubt" And turning with smile to the Pole, apologized for taking away his serv- ant for a few minutes.
 And when We were outside. Olinto walking by my side in wonderment. asked suddenly:
 Tell me. Have you ever been in .Scotland-at Dumfries?"
 "NaVpr Si0pnr in y,v I;fa
 Answer me another question:" said quickly. You married Armida at the Italian consulate. Where is she now-where is she this morn ing?"
 He turned pale. and saw a con- plete change in his countenance.
 "Ah, signore!" he responded. q only wish l could tell"
 T cast no reflection whatever upon you. Olinto; l have merely incurred after your wife. and you do not give me direct reply"
 We had walked to the Royal Oak. and stood talking on the curb outside.
 T give you no reply, because can't" he said in Italian. "Armida- my poor Armida-has left home"
 Why did you tell me such tale of distress regarding herr"
 'As l have already explained sig. nore. was not then master of my own actions. l was ruled by others. But l saved your life at risk of my own. Some day. when it is safe. I will reveal to you everything"
 Let us allow the past to remain I said Where is your wife nowe"
 He hesitated moment. looking straight into my face.
 ''1lhe truth is. Signor Commenda. tore, that my wife has mysteriously disappeared. Last Saturday at eleven o'clock she was talking over the gar. den wall with a neighbor, and was then dressed to go out. She apparent. ly went out, but from that moment no one has seen or heard of her"
 It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him the ghastiy truth. yet so strange was the circumstance that his own doubse. even to the mole upon his face. should be lying dead and buried in Scotland that hesitated to relate what l knew.
 She spoke English. supposer"
 'She could make herself understood very we'll" he said with a sigh. and [ saw a heavy. thoughtful look upon his brow. That he was really devoted to her. knew. With the Italian of whatever station in life, love is all consuming--it is either perfect love or genuine hatred. The Tuscan char acter Is one of two extremes.
 l glanced across the road, and saw that the detective who had ordered his chop and coffee had stopped to light his pipe and was watching us.
 But why haven't you told the DO. lice?"
 T prefer to make inquiries for my self"
 And in what have your inquiries re- sulted?"
 "Nothing-absolutely nothing" he said gravely.
 You do not suspect any plot! q