"Da Rocha! By Jove! Da Rocha!" he cried, wringing the monk's hand. "Man, I've come all the way from England to find you. Why the deuce did you drop writing? And what do you mean by growing gray hairs? How's José and all the little Josés, and the champagne and all the little champagnes, and the orange brandy? Have you pawned the spoons? Da Rocha! By Jove!" "Come round and sit beside me," said Antonio. As the deluge from the overturned water-pot had soaked the cloth all round him the monk bade the waiter remove his cover and young Crowberry's to the little table by the window. "And ask him to bring green wine," said young Crowberry. "Quarts, Gallons, Buckets, Hogsheads, Bottomless pits. I'm as thirsty as the devil." When orderly conversation became possible, the monk was able to puzzle out a mystery which had pained him. By comparing notes and sifting dates they found that one letter from Antonio must have gone down in the wreck of the mail-boat _Hortensia_, and that another letter had reached England while an unsatisfactory sub-tenant was occupying young Crowberry's chambers. After this misunderstanding had been righted the monk proceeded to draw out his friend's recent history. He found that young Crowberry, in his own phrase, had made three fortunes, of which he had lost two and three-quarters in financing foreign railway companies by whom he had been employed. "But what does it matter?" demanded young Crowberry. "I've a quarter of a fortune left, and I'm hoping it'll be enough for my scheme. The man I'm trying to get in with isn't greedy." "Explain," asked the monk. "I'm hoping to buy a share of a snug little business and settle down," young Crowberry answered. "A wine business. I was born among bottles, and a cellar's better than a tunnel. That's why I've come to Portugal. I've invested four thousand pounds in British Funds for miscellaneous purposes, and to-morrow I'm going to offer my remaining five thousand to a man named da Rocha for a partnership." Antonio heard him without visible emotion. For a long minute he gazed quietly into the street. At last he said: "Edward, you asked me half an hour ago if I had pawned the spoons. They were pawned two years ago, to pay a Jew twenty per cent interest on a loan I'd repaid twice over. But it's a long story. Drink your coffee. Then we will go to your room."