Next morning after breakfast he wandered through the lobby and paused at
the little office, where he discovered that the proprietor of this hotel
was a brother of that Floriano who managed the Hotel du Vesuve. That
gave him an excuse to talk with the man, who spoke very good English and
was exceedingly courteous to his guests--especially when they were
American.

"I see you have Count Ferralti with you," remarked Uncle John.

"Whom, sir?"

"Ferralti--Count Ferralti. The young man standing by the window,
yonder."

"I--I did not know," he said, hesitatingly. "The gentleman arrived last
evening, and I had not yet learned his name. Let me see," he turned to
his list of guests, who register by card and not in a book, and
continued: "Ah, yes; he has given his name as Ferralti, but added no
title. A count, did you say?"

"Yes," replied Uncle John.

The proprietor looked curiously toward the young man, whose back only
was visible. Then he remarked that the eruption of Vesuvius was waning
and the trouble nearly over for this time.

"Are the Ferraltis a good family?" asked Uncle John, abruptly.

"That I cannot tell you, Signor Merrick."