Her mother, however, thought they had done quite enough already for Constantine’s sake. Maggie, after a terrible scene in London on the day we were in Liverpool, obtained Mrs. Hutchinson’s consent to the abrupt closing of a professional career and a departure forthwith to the Italian Lakes, where they could live in economical retirement, and Maggie might devote herself to painting. The mother yielded because she feared for her daughter’s reason. In sober earnest, the girl was nearly distraught, and was not in her right mind until they quitted England. But although adamant in her resolve to withdraw from the world (had Maggie been a Roman Catholic nothing could have kept her from entering some religious community), she rapidly recovered her normal good health and abounding good spirits. Hence, Mrs. Hutchinson exercised her native shrewdness when the solicitors ran her to earth, and it was proposed that her daughter should forego the fortune thrust upon her. She referred the lawyers to the firm who looked after her own moderate investments; there was much legal squabbling, and, you may be sure, some nice grapes off the bunch fell into the legal maw. Ultimately, the other Constantines purchased the business interests of their kinsman at about half their value--it would never do for Christian accountants to be taking annual stock of their dealings--and Maggie received, from this source and from the dead man’s personal investments, nearly three quarters of a million sterling! “Yes, sir,” said Hooper, in whom the keen air of New York had brought out the latent financial instinct, “over three and a half million dollars”--how he rapped out those wonderful syllables in clear staccato accents--“that was what Maggie scooped out of the pot when Karl called Paul and she saw both hands.” “Where are Maggie and the millions now?” I asked admiringly. “I’ve bin thinkin’. There ain’t much in this codification-of-laws notion anyhow. Guess I’ll take a vacation, an’ work up some sort of telegnomy that will materialize,” said he. But he was not serious. He was already earning a reputation as a smart young lawyer, having passed with distinction all the qualifying examinations in the States, and, indeed, he told me later that he was “chewing on,” the offer of a post as legal adviser to the Paris Embassy. So far as he knew, the Hutchinson ladies never left Italy. In the winter, Maggie might be seen copying pictures in the galleries of Florence or studying architectural effects in Rome or Venice--her pictures having attained some fame for their vivid handling of sunlight on the brilliant Italian exteriors. In the summer, she and her mother dwelt in a small castle, the Castello Rondo, to be precise, on a wooded hill overlooking Lake Como. These details Hooper had gathered from people who had friends among the American colony at Florence. Maggie was very pretty, very reserved, devoted to her art and to old silver. That was all he knew about her.