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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"A Man of Mark"

So overwhelmed was I by my position, and so occupied with my
frantic efforts to improve it, that I did not even find time to go and
see the signorina, much as I needed comfort; and, as the days went on,
I fell into such despair that I went nowhere, but sat dismally in my
own rooms, looking at my portmanteau, and wondering how soon I must
pack and fly, if not for life, at least for liberty.
At last the crash came. I was sitting in my office one morning,
engaged in the difficult task of trying to make ten into fifteen, when
I heard the clatter of hoofs.
A moment later the door was opened, and Jones ushered in Colonel
McGregor. I nodded to the colonel, who came in with his usual
leisurely step, sat himself down, and took off his gloves. I roused
myself to say:
"What can I do for you, colonel?"
He waited till the door closed behind Jones, and then said:
"I've got to the bottom of it at last, Martin."
This was true of myself also, but the colonel meant it in a different
sense.
"Bottom of what?" I asked, rather testily.
"That old scamp's villainy," said he, jerking his thumb toward the
Piazza and the statue of the Liberator.


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