“You are quite right not to embarrass yourself,” she said, when I explained to her my immediate circumstances; “but why did you make papa an offer which you cannot perform? He must remain here now till he hears from England. Had you explained it all at first, the ten napoleons would have carried us to Milan.” This was all true, and yet I thought it hard upon me.
It was evident to me now, that Sophonisba was prepared to join her stepmother in thinking that I had ill-treated them, and I had not much doubt that I should find Mr. Greene to be of the same opinion. There was very little more said between us during the walk, and when we reached the hotel at seven or half-past seven o’clock, I merely remarked that I would go in and wish her father and mother goodbye. “I suppose you will drink tea with us,” said Sophonisba, and to this I assented.
I went into my own room, and put all my things into my portmanteau, for according to the custom, which is invariable in Italy when an early start is premeditated, the Boots was imperative in his demand that the luggage should be ready over night. I then went to the Greene’s sitting-room, and found that the whole party was now aware of my intentions.
“So you are going to desert us,” said Mrs. Greene.
“I must go on upon my journey,” I pleaded in a weak apologetic voice.
“Go on upon your journey, sir!” said Mrs. Greene. “I would not for a moment have you put yourself to inconvenience on our account.” And yet I had already lost fourteen napoleons, and given up all prospect of going to Venice!
“Mr. Robinson is certainly right not to break his engagement with Miss Walker,” said Sophonisba. Now I had said not a word about an engagement with Miss Walker, having only mentioned incidentally that she would be one of the party at Innsbruck. “But,” continued she, “I think he should not have misled us.” And in this way we enjoyed our evening meal.
I was just about to shake hands with them all, previous to my final departure from their presence, when the Boots came into the room.
“I’ll leave the portmanteau till tomorrow morning,” said he.
“All right,” said I.
“Because,” said he, “there will be such a crowd of things in the hall. The big trunk I will take away now.”
“Big trunk—what big trunk?”
“The trunk with your rug over it, on which your portmanteau stood.”
I looked round at Mr., Mrs., and Miss Greene, and saw that they were all looking at me. I looked round at them, and as their eyes met mine I felt that I turned as red as fire. I immediately jumped up and rushed away to my own room, hearing as I went that all their steps were following me. I rushed to the inner recess, pulled down the portmanteau, which still remained in its old place, tore away my own carpet rug which covered the support beneath it, and there saw—a white canvas-covered box, with a hole in the canvas on the side next to me!
“It is my box,” said Mrs. Greene, pushing me away, as she hurried up and put her finger within the rent.
“It certainly does look like it,” said Mr. Greene, peering over his wife’s shoulder.
“There’s no doubt about the box,” said Sophonisba.
“Not the least in life,” said I, trying to assume an indifferent look.
“Mon Dieu!” said the Boots.
“Corpo di Baccho!” exclaimed the landlord, who had now joined the party.
“Oh-h-h-h—!” screamed Mrs. Greene, and then she threw herself back on to my bed, and shrieked hysterically.
There was no doubt whatsoever about the fact. There was the lost box, and there it had been during all those tedious hours of unavailing search. While I was suffering all that fatigue in Milan, spending my precious zwanzigers in driving about from one hotel to another, the box had been safe, standing in my own room at Bellaggio, hidden by my own rug. And now that it was found everybody looked at me as though it were all my fault. Mrs. Greene’s eyes, when she had done being hysterical, were terrible, and Sophonisba looked at me as though I were a convicted thief.
“Who put the box here?” I said, turning fiercely upon the Boots.
“I did,” said the Boots, “by Monsieur’s express order.”
“By my order?” I exclaimed.
“Certainly,” said the Boots.
“Corpo di Baccho!” said the landlord, and he also looked at me as though I were a thief. In the meantime the landlady and the three daughters had clustered round Mrs. Greene, administering to her all manner of Italian consolation. The box, and the money, and the jewels were after all a reality; and much incivility can be forgiven to a lady who has really lost her jewels, and has really found them again.
There and then there arose a hurly-burly among us as to the manner in which the odious trunk found its way into my room. Had anybody been just enough to consider the matter coolly, it must have been quite clear that I could not have ordered it there. When I entered the hotel, the boxes were already being lugged about, and I had spoken a word to no one concerning them. That traitorous Boots had done it—no doubt without malice prepense; but he had done it; and now that the Greenes were once more known as moneyed people, he turned upon me, and told me to my face, that I had desired that box to be taken to my own room as part of my own luggage!
“My dear,” said
