He had at first thought of lying low in some quiet lodging till he could find out the lie of the land, but two factors had decided him against it. Firstly, the language difficulty would have proved a perpetual stumbling-block in any arrangements that he wished to make; secondly, he could not bear the. thought of wasting a single hour in any place where it was unlikely that he would be unable to obtain news of Isabella. By going to Crocielles it was a certainty that he would find people there who moved in Neapolitan society, so could give him without delay the information he was so anxious to secure.
The company at Crocielles amply justified his hopes. Half a dozen English milor's and their families had recently arrived to winter there, a score of French exiles had now made it their headquarters, and there were also a few wealthy Germans. As soon as he had had a meal he got in conversation with several gentlemen who were about to enjoy an evening concert in the music-room, and once more he found that the goddess Fortune was still beaming upon him.
To begin with the King and Queen were not in Naples. They had gone on a State visit to Sicily and were at present in Palermo; but they were expected back at the end of the week. Nothing could have suited him better as, had they been staying in Sicily longer, it would clearly have been his duty to follow them there; but if he did so now the probability was that he would pass them on their way home, and thus lose several days before he could catch up with them again. By remaining in Naples to await their return he would be acting in the best interests of his mission, and at the same time reap a bonus of an extra day or two for his own affairs.
While the conversation was on the subject of the Court, he adroitly turned it to the personages about the King and Queen, then asked casually if any of the gentlemen present were acquainted with the Conde and Condesa Sidonia y Ulloa.
A young wit who was in the party took snuff and said with a snigger: "Who, having once seen the lady with black caterpillars for eyebrows, could ever forget her?"
Roger could have slain him, but dared show no umbrage, so veiled his eyes and prayed that the red flush he felt mounting to his cheeks would pass unnoticed. Next moment the reflection on his beloved's beauty was driven from his mind by an older man remarking:
"If you carry a letter of introduction to Don Diego I fear that you will have no chance of presenting it as yet. He is one of the Court Chamberlains, so from home at the moment, attending Their Majesties in Palermo."
Instantly Roger's spirits soared up like a rocket. The statement surely implied that, of all the times in the year that he might have come to Naples, on just these few days he had earned so hardly he would find Isabella alone, unhampered by a jealous husband. Next second, his spirits fell like lead to his boots. It might equally well, or even better, be implied that she had accompanied her husband to Palermo; in which case those desperately won days would be utterly wasted, and from lack of even a sight of her become as gall and wormwood in his mouth.
From fear of compromising her, he could not possibly ask the all-important question that itched upon the tip of his tongue; so as soon as he could he excused himself, and next had a word with the hall porter.
A straight question elicited the fact that the Sidonia y Ulloas lived in a big villa half a mile further up the hill, and the man described its situation so clearly that it would have been difficult for a stranger to fail to find it, even at night. Then he added as an afterthought: "The Conde Diego is at present in Sicily with Their Majesties; but I saw the Condesa drive past in her carriage this morning."
Just as Roger could have slain the wit a few minutes earlier, he could now have kissed the porter. Fortune seemed to be wafting him on a magic carpet towards his dearest desires. Yet he did his utmost to conceal his elation, and remarked that, in that case, he must postpone his call.
Exercising an iron control over feet that itched to run, he sauntered slowly across the hall and upstairs to his room. Having collected his cloak he slipped quickly down a flight of back stairs to a side entrance, and so out into the garden. Darkness had come, and despite the warmth of the day the November night was chilly. Drawing his cloak about him, he slid like a shadow between the oleanders along a path to the road, then turning, he set off in yard-long strides up the hill.
Within a quarter of an hour he found the villa. It was a big house standing in about three acres of its own grounds. Its front facade was in complete darkness, except for a lantern above the porch. He walked some way round the wall that encircled the garden, hoping to get a full view of the back of the house; but that proved impossible, owing to intervening trees. As far as he could see there were no lights in the upper windows. A sudden depression descended on his mind like a damp, cold hand, as it occurred to him that Isabella might be out at some party and not be returning until the small hours of the morning.
To find out if she was or was not there now seemed more than ever a matter of desperate urgency. Feverishly he began to hunt for a foothold in the wall. After a few minutes' search he found one, stuck the toe of his boot in it, kicked off hard with his other foot, grabbed the top of the wall and hauled himself up till he was astride its coping.
He could see better now. There were lights in three of the downstairs windows. Instantly his depression lifted. Dropping down on the far side of the wall, he thrust his way through a screen of bushes and emerged on to a path. Treading gently now he advanced towards the house. The path ran round a fish-pond, and as he skirted it he could see the lighted windows only from an oblique angle. It was not until the path turned inward again, quite near the house, that he could see into the room on to which the three tall windows gave.
His view was partially obscured by muslin drapes, but the heavy brocade curtains behind them had not been drawn, so between the drapes three diamond-shaped sections of the interior were visible. The room was long but of only medium height; the windows ran almost up to its ceiling, and Roger now saw that the centre one was really a pair of narrow double-doors that opened on to the garden. He took another few paces forward to get a more direct view of the room. As he did so a section of a woman's skirt, beyond the nearest muslin drape, came into his line of vision. Next moment he could see the whole figure. It was Isabella.
She was sitting in a low chair reading a book, and as she read she occasionally took a puff at a long cheroot. Roger knew that many Spanish ladies smoked. He had never seen Isabella do so before, but it occurred to him that perhaps she had been unable to obtain tobacco in that form in France.
His heart was pounding like a sledge-hammer in his chest. Had he, six nights before in Paris, been presented with a djinn out of the Arabian Nights to do his bidding, it could not have served him better than his own endurance and luck. He could hardly believe it to be true that he had really found his adorable Isabella again—and found her alone. But there she was, within a dozen yards of him. He had only to open the french window and walk through it to hold her in his arms.
It remained only to let her know of his presence without frightening her and causing her to alarm her household. Stooping, he picked up a few little pieces of lava, from which the path he was standing on was made; then he threw one gently at the window.
At the faint tap it made she looked up, but after a second reverted to her reading. He threw two more in quick succession. She looked up again, staring straight towards him now, yet not seeing him outside in the dark. He threw another. She closed her book, put down her cheroot, stood up, came over to the window, and opening it a little, called in Spanish: "Who is there?"
Roger's voice came in a whisper: " 'Tis I, dear heart."