"Toob"--he pondered upon it as at last the old servant withdrew and he leaned back against the pillows, glad of the somewhat scanty breakfast. Presently he heard steps. A knock sounded on the door, and in came four men, staggering under a heavy burden. It proved to be an enormous bath, of the kind one associates with a fixed base and many fittings, utterly devoid of paint. McTaggart watched with wide eyes. It was bumped down before the stove, which Mario proceeded to light, and then under Beppo's guidance a sheet was spread over the vast sarcophagus and tucked in to form a lining. Then the men filed out. The bath was filled with cold water and beside it--like a tender offspring!--a small foot-tub was arranged. From the latter a cloud of steam arose--a welcome sight to McTaggart--and on a chair before the stove was laid a garment in bath-toweling. Mario approached the bed. "Good morning to Him. His 'toob' is ready." He smiled with a flash of strong white teeth that lit up the olive face and lingered in the sloe-like eyes. His tub! McTaggart solved the enigma. And what a tub! He checked a laugh as Beppo gravely took his tray with a glance in which triumph lurked. But still Mario stood, expectant. His coat was off, his sleeves rolled up and--Beppo, lingering in the rear--he began a long respectful inquiry. McTaggart, bewildered, shook his head. He caught the words "fregamento"--"massage" ... Good Heavens!--they were going to bathe him! "Non, non!"--he stammered--"solo!" He pointed to the door, confused, as the two men consulted together. Beppo resumed his pantomime. He took Mario's strong hand and rubbed it sharply across his chest. "Ecco! ... 'friction'?" His anxious eyes watched his master's amazed face. "Io," said McTaggart stoutly--"always ... sempre." He waved them away. "Grazia--ma ... _addio_!" At this very obvious hint the two servants slowly withdrew. McTaggart shot from his bed and turned the key in the door. Then his stifled mirth exploded and he laughed until he cried. "That was a narrow shave," he said, staring into the huge bath. "My uncle had some funny habits--muslin night-shirts and massage! Horrible, this wet sheet..." He dipped a finger in and shivered. "I'll swear there's ice in it----" he said. "Happy thought!" He took the foot-tub and poured in the boiling water. His bath over, he dressed quickly, then rang the bell for the man, after a vain hunt for razors among the many toilette articles. But Mario was prepared for this. He shaved McTaggart skilfully, produced powder, produced perfumes--which Peter hurriedly declined. Then Beppo reappeared, with a message from the Marchesa. She would receive her new nephew as soon as it suited him.