"An exception, Beverley," explained Mr. Jaques. "An exception. One of the peculiarities of the French language. But this might help you to remember. Silence is one of the things that a woman cannot keep, therefore the French place that word in the masculine gender----" "I say, sir," interrupted Dick Beverley. "Look at that moth. Rather late for this time of year, isn't it?" "Never mind the moth," said his house-master. "You'll see plenty of varieties of moths during the next few months," he sighed, envious of the high-spirited youth. "Now, say in French: 'Will you kindly tell me the way to the police-station'. Good; 'poste' has two different meanings: 'post-office' and 'police-station', according to gender. Now say the same sentence in Italian. H'm, yes, passable. You have that written slip of directions the Head gave you? And your Italian passport: you're keeping that in a different pocket to your notes? And don't address strangers on Continental railways. If in doubt ask someone in uniform. All railway officials are in uniform on the other side of the Channel, you know." Dick Beverley nodded. Already the well-meaning Mr. Jaques had dinned the various and somewhat bewildering instructions and injunctions into his excited head at least half a dozen times between Charing Cross and Folkestone. But the boy's brain had closed its doors, temporarily at least, to the advice of his house-master. On the eve of a vast adventure it is often so, although before long a confidant would be welcome. "Monsieur Deschamps will meet you at the Gare du Nord," continued Mr. Jaques. "The journey across Paris is the most difficult part of the business, but that difficulty will, I trust, be eliminated. I believe there is a _wagon lit_ straight through from Paris to Brindisi." Dick again nodded, but his attention was centred on the animated harbour as viewed from the lounge of the hotel. "From Brindisi," resumed the master, "you proceed to Taranto. If the _Titania_ should not be there, what do you do?" "Stop at the Hotel d'Annunzio, Strada Miratore," replied Dick promptly. He knew that bit. "That is so," agreed the pedantic Mr. Jaques; "and above all, be discreet. Remember what I told you about 'silence'. I was given to understand, during a brief interview with your brother, that absolute discretion is necessary--not only for your own welfare but for the people you are about to join. Remember also to keep your French paper money in a different compartment of your pocket-book from your Italian notes, and examine your change carefully. There is a lot of bad money about in those countries, I believe." "Like a lot of bacon we get in England, sir," added the irrepressible youth. Mr. Jaques nodded. He could well afford to be sympathetic on that subject. "You have your keys, I hope," he asked, returning to the lengthy exhortation to a juvenile traveller. "The _douaniers_--custom-house people--will want to examine your luggage, you know."