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'"
At this moment there was a tapping at the door.
"It is himself," said Edwards.
"Enter!" Calabressa called out.
The man who now came into the room was a very different looking person
from the wild, unkempt creature who had confronted Natalie Lind in
Curzon Street. The voluminous red beard and mustache had been cropped;
he wore the clothes of a decent workman, with a foreign touch here and
there; he was submissive and docile in look.
"Well, where have you been, my friend?" Calabressa said to him in
Italian.
Kirski glanced at Gathorne Edwards, and began to speak to him in
Russian.
"Will you explain for me, little father? I have been to many churches."
"The police will not suspect him if he goes there," said Calabressa,
laughing.
"And to the shops in the Piazza San Marco, where the pictures are of the
saints."
"Well?"
"Little father, I can find no one of the saints so beautiful as that one
in England that the Master Calabressa knows."
Calabressa laughed again.
"Allons, mon grand enfant! Tell him that if it is only a likeness he is
hunting for, I can show him one.


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