CULCH. As you choose. I gave you the opportunity--out of kindness. If you prefer to make yourself ridiculous by hanging about here, it's no concern of mine. I dare say I shall enjoy Florence at least as well by myself. [_He sulks until they arrive at the Hotel Dandolo, where they are received on the steps by the_ PORTER. PORTER. Goot afternoon, Schendlemen. You have a bleasant dimes at Torcello, yes? Ach! you haf gif your gondoliers vifdeen franc? Zey schvindle you, oal ze gondoliers alvays schvindles eferypody, yes! Zere is som ledders for you. I vetch them. [_He bustles away._ MR. BELLERBY (_suddenly emerging from a recess in the entrance, as he recognizes_ CULCHARD). Why, bless me, there's a face I know! Met at Lugano, didn't we? To be sure--very pleasant chat we had too! So you're at Venice, eh? I know every stone of it by heart, as I needn't say. The first time I was ever at Venice---- CULCH. (_taking a bulky envelope from the_ PORTER). Just so--how are you? Er--will you excuse me? [_He opens the envelope, and finds a blue official-looking enclosure, which he reads with a gradually lengthening countenance._ MR. B. (_as_ CULCHARD _thrusts the letter angrily in his pocket_). You're new to Venice, I think? Well, just let me give you a word of advice. [Illustration: READS WITH A GRADUALLY LENGTHENING COUNTENANCE.] Now you _are_ here--you make them give you some tunny. Insist on it, Sir. Why, when I was here first---- CULCH. (_impatiently_). I know. I mean, you told me that before. And I _have_ tasted tunny. MR. B. Ha! well, what did you think of it? _Delicious_, eh? CULCH. (_forgetting all his manners_). Beastly, Sir, _beastly_! [_Leaves the scandalized_ MR. B. _abruptly, and rushes off to get a telegram form at the bureau._ MR. CRAWLEY STRUTT (_pouncing on_ PODBURY _in the hall, as he finishes the perusal of his letter_). Excuse me--but surely I have the honour of addressing Lord George Gumbleton? You may perhaps just recollect, my Lord----? PODB. (_blankly_). Think you've made a mistake, really. MR. C. S. Is it possible! I have come across so many people while I've been away that--but surely we have met _somewhere_? Why, of course, Sir John Jubber! you must pardon me, Sir John---- PODB. (_recognizing him_). My name's Podbury--plain Podbury, but you're quite right. You _have_ met me--and you've met my bootmaker too, "Lord Uppersole," eh? That's where the mistake came in! MR. C. S. (_with hauteur_). I think not, Sir; I have no recollection of the circumstance. I see now your face is quite unfamiliar to me. [_He moves away_; PODBURY _gets a telegram form and sits down at a table in the hall opposite_ CULCHARD. CULCH. (_reading over his telegram_). "Yours just received. Am returning immediately." PODB. (_do., do._). "Letter to hand. No end sorry. Start at once." (_Seeing_ CULCHARD.) Writing to Florence for room, eh?