“About as bad as is possible, in spite of having been at sea so much. But we had a talk while they were loading at Genoa. You know Williams, I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, trustworthy and sensible; so is Bailey, for that matter; and they both know how to hold their tongues.” “It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing a thing like this.” “So I told him, and he only looked sulky and said: 'What business is that of yours?' Just the sort of thing one would expect him to say. If I met Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him and say: 'Good-morning, Englishman.'” “But I can't conceive how you managed to get their consent; Williams, too; the last man I should have thought of.” “Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the ground of danger, though, but because the thing is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to win him over after a bit. And now we will go into details.” ***** When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun had set, and the blossoming pyrus japonica that hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading light. He gathered a few sprays and carried them into the house. As he opened the study door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and ran towards him. “Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!” His first impulse was to ask her sharply what business she had in his study; but, remembering that he had not seen her for three weeks, he held out his hand and said, rather frigidly: “Good-evening, Zita; how are you?” She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved past as though he had not seen the gesture, and took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next instant the door was flung wide open, and the collie, rushing into the room, performed an ecstatic dance round him, barking and whining with delight. He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog. “Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands, like a good dog!” The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face. “Shall we go to dinner?” she asked coldly. “I ordered it for you at my place, as you wrote that you were coming this evening.” He turned round quickly. “I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have waited for me! I will just get a bit tidy and come round at once. P-perhaps you would not mind putting these into water.” When he came into Zita's dining room she was standing before a mirror, fastening one of the sprays into her dress. She had apparently made up her mind to be good-humoured, and came up to him with a little cluster of crimson buds tied together. “Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in your coat.”