The Romance of Giovanni Calvotti | Page 9

poor
friend's favourite, and whatever the old man died possessed of went by
will to him with a mere injunction to look after his sisters. He had not
been heard of for more than a year, but was believed to be somewhere
in Italy. The scoundrel professed to be a painter, and might have made
a decent sign-writer, if he hadn't been a drunkard. I could not find even
him, and the girls have been advertised for, vainly. Now, the lawyer has
just received a letter from this young ne'er-do-weel, who wants to
borrow money. I will tell you what I want you to do. If this scamp
learns that ten thousand pounds belong to him, he will take every penny,
though he left the girls to starve. But I want things so managed that he
shall share with his sisters--a thing he will be very reluctant to do. Now,
will you go to Naples, find this man out, get to know from him the
whereabouts of his sisters, manoeuvre him, and, if possible, induce him
to accept half? Will you remember that there is absolutely no receipt in
existence for the money which lies in my hand--that I am not legally
bound to pay a penny of it? That is my only power over this fellow.
Keep my name dark. Let him know there is a certain sum of
money--never mind telling him how much--in the hands of a certain
person in London, who is willing, on his written undertaking to divide
with his sisters whatever his father may have left, to pay over to him
his moiety. Let him understand distinctly that the person in whose
hands the money lies will not pay him one farthing without this bond
unless he produces the receipt given to his father. When you have
secured his written undertaking, will you bring him to me? I will be
answerable for all your charges in the matter.'
I had listened attentively to this story, and I said Yes, at once. I added,
that it seemed to me a very easy task and an honourable one.
'I want it done at once,' he said, 'because I know the girls must be in a
very poor position wherever they are. When can you start? There is a
tidal train at eight o'clock this evening, and the man is now in Naples. I

have the papers here all ready: you can study them on the way.'
'I will start to-night,' I answered.
'Thank you, Calvotti, thank you,' he said heartily. 'Do you remember
how I excused myself for overturning that little girl who was carrying
the first picture I ever saw of yours to your estimable uncle round the
corner, as you called him?'
'Yes. There was a man in the street you were anxious to speak to, and
you jumped from a cab to catch him, and lost sight of him through the
accident.'
'That was the man I want you to see--Charles Grammont.'
I had only time to catch at the name and weave Cecilia and her sister
into this romance with one throw of the shuttle, when there came a
knock at the door.
'Come in,' I said. The door opened, and a man entered. Seeing my
patron and myself, he drew back.
'I have made a mistake,' he murmured awkwardly. 'I wish to find Miss
Grammont. I was told she lived here.'
'Talk of the devil!' cried my patron. 'Charles Grammont!'
'That is my name,' said the new-comer, standing awkwardly in the
doorway. 'You have the advantage of me, sir.'
'H'm!' said my patron, returning to the manner he had first worn in my
presence. 'Likely to keep it too. Good-day, Calvotti. You'll remember
that little commission. Things may perhaps be easier than I thought
they would be.' He muttered this to himself so that the new-comer did
not hear him. He pushed uncourteously past the young man and went
out.
'You will find Miss Grammont upstairs, sir,' I said. 'If you are Mr.
Charles Grammont, the brother of the ladies upstairs, I shall be glad to

speak to you in an hour's time, on a matter of much advantage to you.'
The young man had a disagreeable swagger and a bloated face. His
swagger was intended to hide the discomfiture in the midst of which
that sort of man's soul lives always.
'If you have any thing to say to me,' he answered, still holding the
handle of the door, 'you can say it now, or save yourself the trouble of
saying it at all.'
'Sir,' I replied with some asperity, 'it is not a matter which concerns me
at all, but you.
Your late father left some money in which you are interested, that is
all.'
He looked bewildered.
'My father left