Orsino went back to the head clerk, interrupting his conversation with the others.  He inquired if it were true that Del Ferice were not coming.

“It is not probable,” answered the clerk with a grave face.  “They say that the Signora Contessa is not likely to live through the day.”

“Is Donna Tullia ill?” asked Orsino in considerable astonishment.

“She returned from Naples yesterday morning, and was taken ill in the afternoon—­it is said to be apoplexy,” he added in a low voice.  “If you will have patience Signor Principe, I will be at your disposal in five minutes.”

Orsino was obliged to be satisfied and sat down again by Contini.  He told him the news of Del Ferice’s wife.

“That will make matters worse,” said Contini.

“It will not improve them,” answered Orsino indifferently.  “Considering the state of affairs I would like to see Del Ferice before speaking with any of the others.”

“Those men are all involved with Prince Montevarchi,” observed Contini, watching the group of which the head clerk was the central figure.  “You can see by their faces what they think of the business.  The short, grey haired man is the steward—­the big man is the architect.  The others are contractors.  They say it is not less than thirty millions.”

Orsino said nothing.  He was thinking of Maria Consuelo and wishing that he could get away from Rome that night, while admitting that there was no possibility of such a thing.  Meanwhile the head clerk’s gestures to his interlocutors expressed more and more helplessness.  At last they went out in a body.

“And now I am at your service, Signor Principe,” said the grave man of business coming up to Orsino and Contini.  “The usual accommodation, I suppose?  We will just look over the bills and make out the new ones.  It will not take ten minutes.  The usual cash, I suppose, Signor Principe?  Yes, to-day is Saturday and you have your men to pay.  Quite as usual, quite as usual.  Will you come into my office?”

Orsino looked at Contini, and Contini looked at Orsino, grasping the back of a chair to steady himself.

“Then there is no difficulty about discounting?” stammered Contini, turning his face, now suddenly flushed, towards the clerk.

“None whatever,” answered the latter with an air of real or affected surprise.  “I have received the usual instructions to let Andrea Contini and Company have all the money they need.”

He turned and led the way to his private office.  Contini walked unsteadily.  Orsino showed no astonishment, but his black eyes grew a little brighter than usual as he anticipated his next interview with San Giacinto.  He readily attributed his good fortune to the supposed well-known prosperity of the firm, and he rose in his own estimation.  He quite forgot that Contini, who had now lost his head, had but yesterday clearly foreseen the future when he had said that Del Ferice would not let the two partners fail until they had fitted the last door and the last window in the last of their houses.  The conclusion had struck him as just at the time.  Contini was the first to recall it.