My uncalled-for act had brought a swift flush of anger to her cheek. I saw it quite plainly as she lowered her head and drew back into the shadow of the curtain. Bounder! That is what I was for taking advantage of her simple trust in me. Strange to say, she came to the head of the stairs and watched me until I was out of sight in the hall below. The Count was waiting for me in the loggia. It was quite warm and he fanned himself lazily with his broad straw hat. As I approached, he tossed his cigarette over the wall and hastened to meet me. There was a quaint diffident smile on his lips. "It is good to see you again, old fellow," he said, with an amiability that surprised me. "I was afraid you might hold a grievance against me. You Americans are queer chaps, you know. Our little tilt of the other evening, you understand. Stupid way for two grown-up men to behave, wasn't it? Of course, the explanation is simple. We had been drinking. Men do silly things in their cups." Consummate assurance! I had not touched a drop of anything that night. "I assure you, Count Tarnowsy, the little tilt, as you are pleased to call it, was of no consequence. I had quite forgotten that it occurred. Sorry you reminded me of it." The irony was wasted. He beamed. "My dear fellow, shall we not shake hands?" There _was_ something irresistibly winning about him, as I've said before. Something boyish, ingenuous, charming,--what you will,--that went far toward accounting for many things that you who have never seen him may consider incomprehensible. A certain wariness took possession of me. I could well afford to temporise. We shook hands with what seemed to be genuine fervour. "I suppose you are wondering what brings me here," he said, as we started toward the entrance to the loggia, his arm through mine. "I do not forget a promise, Mr. Smart. You may remember that I agreed to fetch a man from Munchen to look over your fine old frescoes and to give you an estimate. Well, he is here, the very best man in Europe." "I am sure I am greatly indebted to you, Count," I said, "but after thinking it over I've--" "Don't say that you have already engaged some one to do the work," he cried, in horror. "My dear fellow, don't tell me _that_! You are certain to make a dreadful mistake if you listen to any one but Schwartzmuller. He is the last word in restorations. He is the best bet, as you would say in New York. Any one else will make a botch of the work. You will curse the day you--" I checked him. "I have virtually decided to let the whole matter go over until next spring. However, I shall be happy to have Mr. Schwartzmuller's opinion. We may be able to plan ahead." A look of disappointment flitted across his face. The suggestion of hard old age crept into his features for a second and then disappeared.