Giovanna, in her clear simple way, related to her uncle all that had passed—all except that last speech of Sir Gilbert, which she left to be told later on. The Captain rubbed his hands gleefully. “All has gone well so far, very well indeed,” he said; “and now that the worst is over—by which I mean now that Luigi has been introduced to the old man and accepted by him as his grandson, as, from what you tell me, seems undoubtedly to be the case—now that the most difficult part of our task has been successfully accomplished, I don’t mind saying that I shall sleep more soundly to-night than I have for the last week or more.” “It seems to me that Sir Gilbert favoured me with a precious cool reception,” said Luigi, in an aggrieved tone; “in fact it was enough to freeze one. And those eyes of his seemed to go right through me; I was never so nervous in my life. I wouldn’t go through such a quarter of an hour again for a good deal.” “There will be no call for you to do so,” replied the Captain. “As I said before, you have gone through the worst. You know now the kind of man he is, and must act accordingly. If you only knew how”—adding, to himself, “and were not so self-opinionated and conceited”—“you might lead Sir Gilbert anywhere with your little finger. In the case of such a man, you have only to fall in with his humours, or make believe to fall in with them, and you may do anything in reason with him.” “If I had but your head on my shoulders, uncle!” exclaimed Luigi, with a smile that had a spice of mockery in it. “Or my brains in your numbskull,” retorted the Captain. “Oh, the chance—the golden chance that is now yours! One can but hope that you will know how to make the best of it.” It seemed to Giovanna that the time had now come for making her uncle acquainted with what Sir Gilbert had said about him. The Captain pulled a wry face for a moment, and then broke into one of his short harsh laughs. “What a cantankerous old shaver he is!” he exclaimed. “I was sure from the first that he had taken a dislike to me.” Then laying a hand on his niece’s arm, he added in a voice which had become suddenly grave: “It matters not a grain of salt in what light Sir Gilbert chooses to regard me, so long as you and Luigi—especially the boy—contrive to keep in his good graces. That is the only thing of any real consequence.”