"It's a soft thing--that's my opinion, the girl Velia is devilish pretty, and the cousin isn't half bad-looking. I haven't been idle. Got in at six--an hour late, of course, had a bath and breakfast and out. Saw a dozen people I know before noon, lunched at that little _trattoria_ behind the post office where so many of the Deputies go, and learnt a lot. I'm no stranger here you know--lived here a year once-- did a splendid bit of business, but had to slip. That was the year before we joined our forces." "Well, what do you know?" "Boncini, her father is, of course, Minister of the Interior, and a pretty slick customer. Made pots of money, they say, and only keeps in office by bribery. Half the money subscribed by charitable people on behalf of the sufferers from the recent earthquake down in Calabria went into his pocket. He bought a big villa, and fine estate, close to Vallombrosa a month or so afterwards." His lordship grunted. "Picks up what he can?" he remarked. "One of us--it seems!" "Exactly. And to do any business, we'll have to be pretty cute. He's already seen and heard a lot of you, and he knows that you've met his pretty daughter. Perhaps he fancies you'll marry her." "The only use of marriage to a man, my dear Clayton," exclaimed the devil-may-care adventurer blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke from his lips, "is to enable him to make a settlement upon his wife, and so wriggle from the clutches of his creditors." The Parson laughed. Regarding the marriage tie his Highness, or "his lordship" rather as he was at that moment called, was always sarcastic. "Really, old chap, you spread your fame wherever you go. Why, all Rome is talking about this wonderful coup of yours at Monte." "It was Garrett's idea. He told them down in the garage, and Charles told a lady's maid or two, I think. Such things are quite easy when one starts out upon a big bluff. But if what you've discovered about his Excellency the Minister Boncini is really true, then I shall alter my tactics somewhat. I mean that I must make the dark-haired daughter a stepping-stone to her father." "With care--my dear fellow," exclaimed the Parson in that calm, clerical drawl habitual to him. "The girl's cousin, Miss Ethel Thorold, is English. The sister of the Signora Boncini married a man on the London Stock Exchange, named Thorold." "That's awkward," exclaimed his lordship thoughtfully, "upsets my plans." "But he's dead," the Parson declared. His companion nodded satisfaction. "Now Miss Ethel is, I've found, a rather religiously inclined young person--all praise to her. So I shall succeed very soon in getting to know her. Indeed, as you've already made her acquaintance you might introduce me as the vicar of some living within your gift." "Excellent--I will." "And what's your plans?"