"One is inclined to believe that Adam would have enjoyed the Garden of Eden if it had not been for Eve," I remarked, with a smile.

"Poor Adam," he answered, "I have always thought him a much-abused man.

Unlike ourselves, he was without experience; he had a companion forced upon him who worked his ruin, and his loss on the transaction was not only physical but financial."

"How long do you contemplate remaining in Venice?" I asked, after the little pause that followed his last speech.

"I scarcely know," he answered. "My movements are most erratic. I am that most unfortunate of G.o.d's creatures, a wanderer on the face of the earth. I have no relations and few friends. I roam about as the fancy takes me, remain in a place as long as it pleases me, and then, like the Arab in the poem, silently take up my tent and move on as soon as the city I happen to be in at the time has lost its charm. I possess a _pied-a-terre_ of four rooms in Cairo, I have lived amongst the Khabyles in the desert, and with the Armenians in the mountains. To sum it up, I have the instincts of the Wandering Jew, and fortunately the means of gratifying them."

What it was I cannot say, but there was something in his speech that grated upon my feelings. Whether what he had said were true or not, I am not in a position to affirm, but the impression I received was that he was talking for effect, and every one will know what that means.

"As you are such a globe-trotter," I said, "I suppose there is scarcely a portion of the world that you have not visited?"

"I have perhaps had more than my share of travelling," he answered. "I think I can safely say that, with the exception of South America, I have visited every portion of the known globe."

"You have never been in South America then?" I asked in some surprise.

"Never," he replied, and immediately changed the conversation by inquiring whether I had met certain of Anstruther's friends who were supposed to be on their way to Venice. A few minutes later, after having given him an invitation to dinner on the next evening, I bade him good-bye and left him. On my return my wife was eager to question me concerning him, but as things stood I did not feel capable of giving her a detailed reply. There are some acquaintances who, one feels, will prove friends from the outset; there are others who fill one from the first with a vague distrust. Not that I altogether distrusted Martinos, I had not seen enough of him to do that; at the same time, however, I could not conscientiously say, as I have already observed, that I was altogether prepossessed in his favour.

The following morning he accepted my invitation for that evening, and punctually at half-past seven he made his appearance in the drawing-room. I introduced him to my wife, and also to Miss Trevor when she joined us.

"My husband tells me that you are a great traveller," said Phyllis, after they had seated themselves. "He says you know the world as we know London."

"Your husband does me too much honour," he answered modestly. "From what I have heard of you, you must know the world almost as well as I do. My friend, Anstruther, has told me a romantic story about you. Something connected with a South Sea island, and a mysterious personage named----"

He paused for a moment as if to remember the name.

"Nikola," I said; "you do not happen to have met him, I suppose?"

"To my knowledge, never," he answered. "It is a strange surname."

At that moment Glenbarth entered the room, and I introduced the two men to each other. For some reason of my own I was quite prepared to find that the Duke would not take a fancy to our new acquaintance, nor was I destined to be disappointed. Before dinner was half over I could see that he had a great difficulty in being civil to the stranger. Had Martinos not been our guest, I doubt very much whether he would have been able to control himself. And yet the Spaniard laid himself out in every way to please. His attentions were paid chiefly to my wife, I do not believe that he addressed Miss Trevor more than a dozen times throughout the meal. Notwithstanding this fact, Glenbarth regarded him with evident animosity, insomuch that Miss Trevor more than once looked at him with an expression of positive alarm upon her face. She had not seen him in this humour before, and though she may have had her suspicions as to the reason of it, it was plain that she was far from approving of his line of action. When the ladies withdrew, and the wine was being circulated, I endeavoured to draw the two men into greater harmony with each other. The attempt, however, was unsuccessful. More than once Glenbarth said things which bordered on rudeness, until I began to feel angry with him. On one occasion, happening to look up suddenly from the cigar which I was cutting, I detected a look upon the Spaniard's face that startled me. It however showed me one thing, and that was the fact that despite his genial behaviour, Martinos had not been blind to the young man's treatment of himself, and also that, should a time ever arrive when he would have a chance of doing Glenbarth a mischief, he would not be forgetful of the debt he owed him. Matters were not much better when we adjourned to the drawing-room. Glenbarth, according to custom, seated himself beside Miss Trevor, and studiously ignored the Spaniard. I was more sorry for this than I could say. It was the behaviour of a school-boy, not that of a man of the world; and the worst part of it was, that it was doing Glenbarth no sort of good in the eyes of the person with whom he wished to stand best. The truth was the poor lad was far from being himself. He was suffering from an acute attack of a disease which has not yet received the proper attention of Science--the disease of first love. So overwhelmed was he by his pa.s.sion, that he could not bear any stranger even to look upon the object of his adoration. Later in the evening matters reached their climax, when my wife asked the Don to sing.

"I feel sure that you _do_ sing," she said in that artless way which women often affect.

"I try sometimes to amuse my friends," said he, and begging us to excuse him he retired to his own rooms, to presently return with a large Spanish guitar. Having taken a seat near the window, and when he had swept his fingers over the strings in a few preliminary chords, he commenced to sing. He was the possessor of a rich baritone, which he used with excellent effect. My wife was delighted, and asked him to sing again. Miss Trevor also expressed her delight, and seconded my wife's proposal. This was altogether too much for Glenbarth. Muttering something about a severe headache he hurriedly left the room. My wife and I exchanged glances, but Martinos and Miss Trevor did not appear to notice his absence. This time he sang a Spanish fishing-song, but I did not pay much attention to it. A little later the Don, having thanked us for our hospitality, took his departure, and when Miss Trevor had said good-night to us, and had retired to her own room, my wife and I were left alone together.

"What could have made the Duke behave like that?" she said.

"He is madly in love, my dear, and also madly jealous," I answered. "I hope and trust, however, that he is not going to repeat this performance."

"If he does he will imperil any chance he has of winning Gertrude's love," she replied. "He will also place us in a decidedly awkward position."

"Let this be a lesson to you, my dear, never to play with fire again," I replied. "You bring two inflammable people together, and wonder that there should be an explosion."

"Well, I'm really very angry with him. I don't know what the Don Jose must have thought."

"Probably he thought nothing about it," I replied. "You mustn't be too angry with Glenbarth, however. Leave him to me, and I'll talk to him.

To-morrow, I promise you, he'll be sorry for himself. If I know anything of women, Gertrude will make him wish he had acted differently."

"I don't think she will bother about the matter. She has too much sense."

"Very well; we shall see."

I then bade her go to bed, promising myself to sit up for Glenbarth, who, I discovered, had gone out. It was nearly midnight when he returned. I noticed that every trace of ill-humour had vanished from his face, and that he was quite himself once more.

"My dear d.i.c.k," he said, "I don't know how to apologize for my ridiculous and rude behaviour of to-night. I am more ashamed of myself than I can say. I behaved like a child."

Because he happened to be in a repentant mood I was not going to let him off the chastising I felt that I ought to give him.

"A nice sort of young fellow you are, upon my word," I said, putting down the paper I had been reading as I spoke. "I've a very good mind to tell you exactly what I think of you."

"It would be only wasting your time," he returned. "For you can't think half as badly of me as I do of myself. I can't imagine what made me do it."

"Can't you?" I said. "Well, I can, and as you are pretty certain to catch it in one particular quarter to-morrow, I fancy, on mature reflection, that I can afford to forgive you. The man had done you no harm; he not only did not interfere with you, but he was not trespa.s.sing upon your----"

"Don't speak of him," said the young fellow, flaring up at once. "If I think of him I shall get angry again. I can't bear the look of the beggar."

"Steady, my young friend, steady," I returned. "You mustn't call other people's friends by that name."

"He is not your friend," said Glenbarth excitedly. "You've never seen him until to-night, and you've known me ever since I was about so high."

"I began to imagine you only 'so high' this evening," I said. "It's a good thing for you that the wife has gone to bed, or I fancy you would have heard something that would have made your ears tingle. After the foolish manner of women, she has come to the conclusion that she would like you to marry Miss Trevor."

"G.o.d bless her!" he said fervently. "I knew that she was my friend."

"In that case you would probably have enjoyed a friend's privilege, had you been here to-night before she retired, and have received a dressing-down that is usually reserved for her husband. I live in hopes that you may get it to-morrow."

"Bosh!" he answered. "And now, if you have forgiven me, I think I will go to bed. I've had enough of myself for one day."

With that we shook hands, and bade each other good-night. At his bedroom door he stopped me.

"Do you think she will forgive me?" he asked, as humbly as would a boy who had been caught stealing sugar-plums.

"My wife," I answered. "Yes, I think it is very probable that she will."

"No, no; how dense you are; I mean----" Here he nodded his head in the direction of the room occupied by Miss Trevor.

"You'll have to find out that for yourself," I replied, and then went on to my dressing-room.

"That will give your Grace something to think about all night," I said, as I took off my coat.

As it turned out, I was destined to be fairly accurate in the prophecy I had made concerning Miss Trevor's treatment of Glenbarth on the morrow.

At breakfast she did not altogether ignore him, but when I say that she devoted the larger share of her attention to myself, those of my readers who are married, and have probably had the same experience, will understand. My wife, on the other hand, was affability itself, and from her behaviour toward him appeared to be quite willing to forgive and forget the unfortunate episode of the previous evening. I chuckled to myself, but said nothing. He was not at the end of his punishment yet.

All that day we saw nothing of Martinos. Whether he remained at home or went abroad we could not say. On returning to the hotel to lunch, however, we discovered a basket of roses in the drawing-room, with the Don's card tied to the handle.

"Oh, what lovely flowers!" cried my wife in an ecstasy. "Look, Gertrude, are they not beautiful?"