awkward to have that sort of a past raked up."

"I should say it would be awkward if that part of his past were
raked up. He wasn't a Puritan, Bob."

"They are a bit scarce at best."

"He was known in those days as Giovanni Pavesi, and he wasn't in
such dire financial straits, either. It was his money that backed
the enterprise, and it was common property, undenied by him or
anyone else, that the chief object in the speculation was the love
of the prima donna, Carmenita Malban. And, Bob, she was the most
beautiful woman I ever saw. The story was that she was a countess or
something of the sort. Poverty forced her to make use of a glorious
voice, and the devil sent Pagani to young Pavesi, who was then a
student with some ripping big master, in the hope that he would
interest the young man in a scheme to tour South America. It seems
that Signorita Malban's beauty set his heart on fire, and he
promptly produced the coin to back the enterprise, the only
condition being that he was to sing the tenor roles. All this came
out in the trial, you know." "The trial! What trial?"

"Giovanni's. Let me think a minute. She was killed on the 29th of
March, and he was not arrested until they had virtually convicted
one of the chorus men of the murder. Pagani and Pavesi quarrelled,
and the former openly accused his 'angel' of the crime. This led to
an arrest just as the tenor was getting away on a ship bound for
Spain."

"Arrested him for the murder of the woman? On my life, Quentin, you