"Expecting him!" echoed Lambro. "I am always expecting him. He never gives warning of his coming, either by letter or messenger. A loud knock of the door, and there he is! He may arrive to-night, he may not arrive for six months. But present or absent the larder must always be full, and the dining-room and the bedroom ready for his immediate reception. A hard man is the Master." "And how long do his visits last?" "That depends upon the mood of his companion." "His companion? Do you mean his wife?" "His wife?" repeated Lambro, with a peculiar laugh. "The Master is a bachelor and will always remain such. He is a member of a peculiar brotherhood pledged to the repudiation of women." "What is the object of his visits?" But Lambro was not disposed to be more communicative. "Captain Cressingham," he said with a deprecatory shake of his head, "you must not ask me to betray my Master's secrets." Paul accepted the rebuke with a good grace. "You speak truth. I have no right to pry into his affairs. I apologize." Secrecy is always suspicious. Lambro's reticence served but to whet Paul's curiosity. A weird interest began to gather around the unknown owner of Castel Nuovo, who was so studious of concealing his identity, who without previous warning came and vanished at irregular intervals on errands that necessitated a reserve in speaking of them. At this point Jacintha reappeared carrying a lighted lamp. "Would my lady like to retire now?" Yes, my lady would, and arose for that purpose. Paul held the door as she passed forth. "Good night, signorina." She returned the valediction, accompanying it with a graceful inclination of her head, and a grateful smile that said as plainly as words could say, "But for you I should now be without bed." The room to which Jacintha conducted Barbara was intended as a lady's bedchamber, as the toilet accessories sufficiently proved. A princess could not have found fault with its dainty tasteful appointments. And, surprising to relate, not a particle of dust was visible anywhere; the place was clean, swept, and garnished as if prepared that very day for the reception of a visitor. "You are not giving up your own room to me, I hope?" said Barbara. "Oh, no, my lady. I do not sleep here." Barbara stared hard at the speaker. Seeing that the "Master," according to Lambro's statement, was a foe to womankind, it was singular, to say the least of it, that Castel Nuovo should contain a chamber of this description. Tired as Barbara was, her curiosity would not let her rest, and she wandered about the room asking a variety of questions. Had this been a bridal-chamber, or a death-chamber, or both? Had the mysterious "Master," mourning the loss of a wife or a daughter, given command that this apartment should be attended to every day, preserved in the same order as that in which it was when last occupied? Barbara could extract nothing from the reticent Jacintha, who seemed troubled by her visitor's catechism.