"I don't know."

"All right; you girls just hop in, and leave the rest to me."

He tumbled them all into the vehicle, bag and baggage, and then said
sternly to the driver:

"Ho-tel Ve-suve--Ve-suve--ho-tel Ve-suve! Drive there darned quick, or
I'll break your confounded neck."

The carriage started. It plowed its way jerkily through the dust-laden
streets and finally stopped at an imposing looking structure. The day
was growing darker, and an electric lamp burned before the entrance.
But no one came out to receive them.

Uncle John climbed out and read the sign. "Hotel du Vesuve." It was the
establishment he had been advised to stop at while in Naples. He
compared the sign with a card which he drew from his pocket, and knew
that he had made no mistake.

Entering the spacious lobby, he found it deserted. In the office a man
was hastily making a package of some books and papers and did not
respond or even look up when spoken to. At the concierge's desk a big,
whiskered man sat staring straight ahead of him with a look of abject
terror in his eyes.

"Good morning," said Uncle John. "Fine day, isn't it?"

"Did you hear it?" whispered the concierge, as a dull boom, like that of
a distant cannon, made the windows rattle in their casements.