"When you asked me to help you," Malipieri said, "you knew perfectly
well what my political career had been. I believe you voted for the
bill which drove me out of the country."
"Did I?" The Baron watched the smoke of his cigar curling upwards.
"I think you did. Not that I bear you the least malice. I only mean
that you might very naturally expect that I should be thought a
suspicious person, and that detectives would follow me about."
"Nobody cares a straw for your politics," retorted Volterra rudely.
"Then I shall be the more free to think as I please," Malipieri
answered with calm.
"Perfectly so. In the meantime it is not the Ministry of the Interior
that is watching you. The present Ministry does not waste time and
money on such nonsense. You are being watched because you are
suspected of trying to get some statues or pictures out of Italy, in
defiance of the Pacca law."
"Oh!" Malipieri blew a whiff of smoke out with the ejaculation, for he
was surprised.
"I have it from one of the cabinet," Volterra continued. "He told me
the facts confidentially after dinner. You see, as you are living in
my house, the suspicion is reflected on me."
"In your house?"
"The Palazzo Conti is my house," answered the Baron, taking his cigar
from his mouth for the first time since he had lighted it, and holding
it out at arm's length with a possessive sweep while he leaned back
and looked at the ceiling again.
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