"I heard you married after you left me. Is that true?"
"Yes, signore. I married Armida, who was in your service when I first entered it. You remember her? Ah, well!" he added, sighing. "Poor thing! I regret to say she is very ill indeed. She cannot stand your English climate. The doctor says she will die if she remains here. Yet what can I do? If we go back to Italy we shall only starve." And I saw that he was in deep distress and that mention of his ailing wife had aroused within him bitter thoughts.
Olinto Santini walked back at my side in the direction of Trafalgar Square, answering the question I put to him. He had been a good, hard-working servant, and I was glad to see him again. When he left me he had gone as steward on one of the Anchor line boats between Naples and New York, and that was the last I had heard of him until I found him there in London, a waiter at a second-rate restaurant.
When I tried to slip some silver into his hand he refused to take it, and with a merry laugh said—
"I wonder if you would be offended, signore if I told you of something for which I had been longing and longing?"
" Not at all."
"Well, the signore smokes our Tuscan cigars I wonder if by chance you have one? We cannot get them in London, you know."
I felt in my pocket, laughing, and discovered that I had a couple of those long thin penny cigars
