ignorant of their system of police.  And then, again, I did not know what was the Italian for the word.

“I will speak to the landlord,” I said.

“If you will have the goodness to send for the police at once, I will be obliged to you.”  And as she thus reiterated her command, she stamped with her foot upon the floor.

“There are no police at Bellaggio,” said Sophonisba.

“What on earth shall I do for money to go on with?” said Mr. Greene, looking piteously up to the ceiling, and shaking both his hands.

And now the whole house was in an uproar, including not only the landlord, his wife and daughters, and all the servants, but also every other visitor at the hotel.  Mrs. Greene was not a lady who hid either her glories or her griefs under a bushel, and, though she spoke only in English, she soon made her protestations sufficiently audible.  She protested loudly that she had been robbed, and that she had been robbed since she left the steamer.  The box had come on shore; of that she was quite certain.  If the landlord had any regard either for his own character or for that of his house, he would ascertain before an hour was over where it was, and who had been the thief.  She would give him an hour.  And then she sat herself down; but in two minutes she was up again, vociferating her wrongs as loudly as ever.  All this was filtered through me and Sophonisba to the waiter in French, and from the waiter to the landlord; but the lady’s gestures required no translation to make them intelligible, and the state of her mind on the matter was, I believe, perfectly well understood.

Mr. Greene I really did pity.  His feelings of dismay seemed to be quite as deep, but his sorrow and solicitude were repressed into more decorum.  “What am I to do for money?” he said.  “I have not a shilling to go on with!”  And he still looked up at the ceiling.

“You must send to England,” said Sophonisba.

“It will take a month,” he replied.

“Mr. Robinson will let you have what you want at present,” added Sophonisba.  Now I certainly had said so, and had meant it at the time.  But my whole travelling store did not exceed forty or fifty pounds, with which I was going on to Venice, and then back to England through the Tyrol.  Waiting a month for Mr. Greene’s money from England might be even more inconvenient to me than to him.  Then it occurred to me that the wants of the Greene family would be numerous and expensive, and that my small stock would go but a little way among so many.  And what also if there had been no money and no jewels in that accursed box!  I confess that at the moment such an idea did strike my mind.  One hears of sharpers on every side committing depredations by means of most singular intrigues and contrivances.  Might it not be possible that the whole batch of Greenes belonged to this order of society.  It was a base idea, I own; but I confess that I entertained it for a moment.

I retired to my own room for a while that I might think over all the circumstances.  There certainly had been seven boxes, and one had had a hole in the canvas.  All the seven had certainly been on board the steamer.  To so much I felt that I might safely swear.  I had not counted the seven into the small boat, but on leaving the larger vessel I had looked about the deck to see that none of the Greene trappings were forgotten.  If left on the steamer, it had been so left through an intent on the part of some one there employed.  It was quite possible that the contents of the box had been ascertained through the imprudence of Mrs. Greene, and that it had been conveyed away so that it might be rifled at Como.  As to Mrs. Greene’s assertion that all the boxes had been put into the small boat, I thought nothing of it.  The people at Bellaggio could not have known which box to steal, nor had there been time to concoct the plan in carrying the boxes up to the hotel.  I came at last to this conclusion, that the missing trunk had either been purloined and carried on to Como,—in which case it would be necessary to lose no time in going after it; or that it had been put out of sight in some uncommonly clever way, by the Greenes themselves, as an excuse for borrowing as much money as they could raise and living without payment of their bills.  With reference to the latter hypothesis, I declared to myself that Greene did not look like a swindler; but as to Mrs. Greene—!  I confess that I did not feel so confident in regard to her.

Charity begins at home, so I proceeded to make myself comfortable in my room, feeling almost certain that I should not be able to leave Bellaggio on the following morning.  I had opened my portmanteau when I first arrived, leaving it open on the floor as is my wont.  Some people are always being robbed, and are always locking up everything; while others wander safe over the world and never lock up anything.  For myself, I never turn a key anywhere, and no one ever purloins from me even a handkerchief.  Cantabit vacuus—, and I am always sufficiently vacuus.  Perhaps it is that I have not a handkerchief worth the stealing.  It is your heavy-laden, suspicious, mal-adroit Greenes that the thieves attack.  I now found out that the accommodating Boots, who already knew my ways, had taken my travelling gear into a dark recess which was intended to do for a dressing-room, and had there spread my portmanteau open upon some table or stool in the corner.  It was a convenient arrangement, and there I left it during the whole period of my sojourn.

Mrs. Greene had given the landlord an hour to find the box, and during that time the landlord, the landlady, their three daughters, and all the servants in the house certainly did exert themselves to the utmost.  Half a dozen times they came to my door, but I was luxuriating in a washing-tub, making up for that four-o’clock start from Chiavenna.  I assured them, however, that the box was not there, and so the search passed by.  At the end of the hour I went back to the Greenes according to promise, having resolved that some one must be sent on to Como to look after the missing article.

There was no necessity to knock at their sitting-room door, for it was wide open.  I walked in, and found Mrs. Greene still engaged in attacking the landlord, while all the porters who had carried the luggage up to the house were standing round.  Her voice was loud above the others, but, luckily for them all, she was speaking English.  The landlord, I saw, was becoming sulky.  He spoke in Italian, and we none of us understood him, but I gathered that he was declining to do anything further.  The box, he was certain, had never come out of the steamer.  The Boots stood by interpreting into French, and, acting as second interpreter, I put it into English.

Mr. Greene, who was seated on the sofa, groaned audibly, but said nothing.  Sophonisba, who was sitting by him, beat upon the floor with both her feet.

“Do you hear, Mr. Greene?” said she, turning to him.  “Do you mean to allow that vast amount of property to be lost without an effort?  Are you prepared to replace my jewels?”

“Her jewels!” said Sophonisba, looking up into my face.  “Papa had to pay the bill for every stitch she had when he married her.”  These last words were so spoken as to be audible only by me, but her first exclamation was loud enough.  Were they people for whom it would be worth my while to delay my journey, and put myself to serious inconvenience with reference to money?

A few minutes afterwards I found myself with Greene on the terrace before the house.  “What ought I to do?” said he.

“Go to Como,” said I, “and look after your box.  I will remain here and go on board the return steamer.  It may perhaps be there.”

“But I can’t speak a word of Italian,” said he.

“Take the Boots,” said I.

“But I can’t speak a word of French.”  And then it ended in my undertaking to go to Como.  I swear