"When the bill was brought Diffendorfer turned his back to me, took out a roll of bills from his hip-pocket, and passed a new bank-note to Auguste with a contemptuous side wiggle of his forefinger and the remark in English in a tone intended for Auguste's ear alone: 'No change.' "Auguste laid the bill on his tray and walked up to the desk with a face struggling between joy over the fee and terror for my safety. A fellow who lived on ten-lire wine and who gave money away like water must murder people for a living and have a cemetery of his own in which to bury his dead. He evidently never expected to see me alive again. "Dinner over and paid for, my host put on his coat, said 'Good-night' with rather an embarrassed air, and without looking at anyone in the room--not even Roscoff, who made a move as if to intercept him--Roscoff had some pictures of his own to sell--walked dejectedly out of the caffe and disappeared in the night. "When I crossed the traghetto the following evening the storm had not abated. It was worse than on the previous night; the wind was blowing a gale and whirling the fog into the narrow streets and choking up the archways and _sotti portici_. "As my foot touched the nagging of the Campo, Diffendorfer stepped forward and laid his hand on my arm. "'You are late,' he said. He spoke in the same crisp way he had the night before. Whether it was an assumed air of bravado, or whether it was his natural ugly disposition, I couldn't tell. It jarred on me again, however, and I walked on. "He stepped quickly in front of me, as if to bar my way, and said, in a gentler tone: "'Don't go away. Come dine with me.' "'But I dined with you yesterday.' "'Yes, I know--and you hated me afterward. I'll be better this time.' "'I didn't hate you, I only----' "'Yes, you did, and you had reason to. I wasn't myself, somehow. Try me again to-day.' "There was something in his eyes--a troubled, disappointed expression that appealed to me--and so I said: "'All right, but on one condition: it's my dinner this time.' "'And my wine,' he answered, and a satisfied look came into his face. "'Yes, your wine. Come along.' "The fellow's blunt, jerky way of speaking had somehow made me speak in the same way. Our talk sounded just like two boys who had had a fight and who were forced to shake hands and make up. My own curiosity as to who he might be, what he was doing in Venice, and why he was pursuing me, was now becoming aroused. That he should again throw himself in my way after the stupid dinner of the night before only deepened the mystery.