"Certainly," interposed Giacomo; "how could he dare to speak, let him
love ever so well?"

Jemima shook her head.

"Oh, never fear," said Riccabocca, observing this gesture; "I will give
him the trial. If he entertain but mercenary views, I shall soon detect
them. I know human nature pretty well, I think, my love; and, Giacomo,
just get me my Machiavelli;--that's right. Now leave me, my dear; I must
reflect and prepare myself."

When Randal entered the house, Giacomo, with a smile of peculiar suavity,
ushered him into the drawing-room. He found Riccabocca alone, and seated
before the fireplace, leaning his face on his hand, with the great folio
of Machiavelli lying open on the table.

The Italian received him as courteously as usual; but there was in his
manner a certain serious and thoughtful dignity, which was perhaps the
more imposing, because but rarely assumed. After a few preliminary
observations, Randal remarked that Frank Hazeldean had informed him of
the curiosity which the disappearance of the Riccaboccas had excited at
the Hall, and inquired carelessly if the doctor had left instructions as
to the forwarding of any letters that might be directed to him at the
Casino.

"Letters!" said Riccabocca, simply; "I never receive any; or, at least,
so rarely, that it was not worth while to take an event so little to be
expected into consideration. No; if any letters do reach the Casino,
there they will wait."