Constance patted him on the arm. 'There, Dad. I haven't a doubt his story is true. He was born in Budapest, and he's a naturalized American citizen. It's the duty of the United States Government to protect him--but it won't be difficult; I dare say he's got his naturalization papers with him. A word in the morning will set everything straight.' 'Leave him in jail all night?' 'But you can't do anything now; it's after ten o'clock; the authorities have gone to bed.' She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring. 'In the morning we'll get some American warships to bombard the jail.' 'Signorina, you joke!' His tone was reproachful. She suddenly looked anxious. 'Gustavo, is the jail strong?' 'Ver' strong, signorina.' 'He can't escape and get over into Austria? We are very near the frontier, you know.' 'No, signorina, it is impossible.' He shook his head hopelessly. Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father's arm. 'Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we'll go down to the jail and cheer him up. There's not the slightest use in worrying any more to-night. It won't hurt Tony to be kept in--er--cold storage for a few hours--I think on the whole it will do him good!' She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, toward the house. CHAPTER XVII Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In the light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terse formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forgo the temptation of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations. 'We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so exasperating?' She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with gleeful malice.