"Seeing her, and letting her know that when she likes to return home there is a place for her, either there or with me. That's all." "And you mean to let her stay with this--this scoundrel." "Yes, Charley; I suppose he is her husband. We can do nothing." "Have you any suspicion of where she is?" "Yes, old man. In this town, and I have set a waiter to work to bring me news. They're ten times better than detectives. But it's very good of you, Charley, and I'm sorry I abused you so." "You have been abusing me, then?" said Melton with an amused look. "Yes, for giving up so easily," said Tom. "Oh, here's my man. I suppose," he added hastily, as the hotel waiter entered, "some one for me." "Yes, milor, the head waiter from the Vesuvio." "Show him in. Now, Charley, there'll be news." "All right, get it then," said Melton, and he walked to the window, while Tom turned to face a little dark Italian, with a face suggestive of his being developed from a shaven rat. The interview was short and decisive, and accompanied by much gesticulation, terminating in a chinking of coin as the man left. "There, old fellow," cried Tom, excitedly, "I've done more than you have. I've run them to earth." "You have? They are in Naples?" "They are _here_!" cried Tom, excitedly. "In this very hotel, where I've been drawn by a sort of filial--no, that's not it--fraternal magnetic attraction, and now." "Stop," cried Melton. "I thought you were not going to interfere." "That's what I thought," said Tom, "a little while ago; but hang it all, now I am under the same roof with the scoundrel who deluded my poor sister away, curse his Italian blood, I'll strangle him." "But you must be wrong, Tom; such a man as you suspect would not stay in an hotel like this. What do you say, Miss Wilder?" "I say," cried Tryphie, with a malicious look, "that there seems to be some mistake." "Tryphie--Tryphie, my child!" came from without. "Coming, aunt," said the girl, rising. "Not a word to the old girl, Tryphie," cried Tom. "Not tell her?" "Not a word. There, I beg of you." "Very well," she said with another peculiar look and tripped out of the room. "That's better," cried Tom. "Now come along." "Where are you going?" "To _dieci otto_. That's where the man said they were--not _they_, he said she was alone now. Come on: I'll get her away, and if he comes to claim her, why then, damn him!" "No violence, Tom, for your sister's sake. He may be there. Let me go and see her." "You? Not me, my boy. Why, I might mark the scoundrel, but you would kill him." "No," said Melton, thoughtfully, "I don't think I should do that to the man she loved." "You're a good fellow, Charley. There, I'll go. I haven't hunted them all this time to give up at the last. Don't hinder me, old chap." "But look here, there has been _expose_ enough. Had it not all better be settled quietly?"