He made no answer. But fortunately his sister was too much agitated to wait for one. “Bursting in on me--crying and looking a disgusting sight--and says she has been to see the Italian. Couldn’t even talk properly; pretended she had changed her opinions. What are her opinions to us? I was very calm. I said: ‘Miss Abbott, I think there is a little misapprehension in this matter. My mother, Mrs. Herriton--’ Oh, goodness, my head! Of course you’ve failed--don’t trouble to answer--I know you’ve failed. Where’s the baby, pray? Of course you haven’t got it. Dear sweet Caroline won’t let you. Oh, yes, and we’re to go away at once and trouble the father no more. Those are her commands. Commands! COMMANDS!” And Harriet also burst into tears. Philip governed his temper. His sister was annoying, but quite reasonable in her indignation. Moreover, Miss Abbott had behaved even worse than she supposed. “I’ve not got the baby, Harriet, but at the same time I haven’t exactly failed. I and Signor Carella are to have another interview this afternoon, at the Caffe Garibaldi. He is perfectly reasonable and pleasant. Should you be disposed to come with me, you would find him quite willing to discuss things. He is desperately in want of money, and has no prospect of getting any. I discovered that. At the same time, he has a certain affection for the child.” For Philip’s insight, or perhaps his opportunities, had not been equal to Miss Abbott’s. Harriet would only sob, and accuse her brother of insulting her; how could a lady speak to such a horrible man? That, and nothing else, was enough to stamp Caroline. Oh, poor Lilia! Philip drummed on the bedroom window-sill. He saw no escape from the deadlock. For though he spoke cheerfully about his second interview with Gino, he felt at the bottom of his heart that it would fail. Gino was too courteous: he would not break off negotiations by sharp denial; he loved this civil, half-humorous bargaining. And he loved fooling his opponent, and did it so nicely that his opponent did not mind being fooled. “Miss Abbott has behaved extraordinarily,” he said at last; “but at the same time--” His sister would not hear him. She burst forth again on the madness, the interference, the intolerable duplicity of Caroline. “Harriet, you must listen. My dear, you must stop crying. I have something quite important to say.” “I shall not stop crying,” said she. But in time, finding that he would not speak to her, she did stop. “Remember that Miss Abbott has done us no harm. She said nothing to him about the matter. He assumes that she is working with us: I gathered that.” “Well, she isn’t.” “Yes; but if you’re careful she may be. I interpret her behaviour thus: She went to see him, honestly intending to get the child away. In the note she left me she says so, and I don’t believe she’d lie.” “I do.”