CHAPTER IV.



IN THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS.

Lord Harry Hawbury had been wandering for three months on the
Continent, and had finally found himself in Naples. It was always a
favorite place of his, and he had established himself in comfortable
quarters on the Strada Nuova, from the windows of which there was a
magnificent view of the whole bay, with Vesuvius, Capri, Baiæ, and all
the regions round about. Here an old friend had unexpectedly turned up
in the person of Scone Dacres. Their friendship had been formed some
five or six years before in South America, where they had made a
hazardous journey in company across the continent, and had thus
acquired a familiarity with one another which years of ordinary
association would have failed to give. Scone Dacres was several years
older than Lord Hawbury.

One evening Lord Hawbury had just finished his dinner, and was
dawdling about in a listless way, when Dacres entered, quite
unceremoniously, and flung himself into a chair by one of the windows.

"Any Bass, Hawbury?" was his only greeting, as he bent his head down,
and ran his hand through his bushy hair.

"Lachryma Christi?" asked Hawbury, in an interrogative tone.