The indecency of the whole place struck Mrs. Chailey forcibly.  There were no blinds to shut out the sun, nor was there any furniture to speak of for the sun to spoil.  Standing in the bare stone hall, and surveying a staircase of superb breadth, but cracked and carpetless, she further ventured the opinion that there were rats, as large as terriers at home, and that if one put one’s foot down with any force one would come through the floor.  As for hot water—­at this point her investigations left her speechless.

“Poor creature!” she murmured to the sallow Spanish servant-girl who came out with the pigs and hens to receive them, “no wonder you hardly look like a human being!” Maria accepted the compliment with an exquisite Spanish grace.  In Chailey’s opinion they would have done better to stay on board an English ship, but none knew better than she that her duty commanded her to stay.

When they were settled in, and in train to find daily occupation, there was some speculation as to the reasons which induced Mr. Pepper to stay, taking up his lodging in the Ambroses’ house.  Efforts had been made for some days before landing to impress upon him the advantages of the Amazons.

“That great stream!” Helen would begin, gazing as if she saw a visionary cascade, “I’ve a good mind to go with you myself, Willoughby—­only I can’t.  Think of the sunsets and the moonrises—­I believe the colours are unimaginable.”

“There are wild peacocks,” Rachel hazarded.

“And marvellous creatures in the water,” Helen asserted.

“One might discover a new reptile,” Rachel continued.

“There’s certain to be a revolution, I’m told,” Helen urged.

The effect of these subterfuges was a little dashed by Ridley, who, after regarding Pepper for some moments, sighed aloud, “Poor fellow!” and inwardly speculated upon the unkindness of women.

He stayed, however, in apparent contentment for six days, playing with a microscope and a notebook in one of the many sparsely furnished sitting-rooms, but on the evening of the seventh day, as they sat at dinner, he appeared more restless than usual.  The dinner-table was set between two long windows which were left uncurtained by Helen’s orders.  Darkness fell as sharply as a knife in this climate, and the town then sprang out in circles and lines of bright dots beneath them.  Buildings which never showed by day showed by night, and the sea flowed right over the land judging by the moving lights of the steamers.  The sight fulfilled the same purpose as an orchestra in a London restaurant, and silence had its setting.  William Pepper observed it for some time; he put on his spectacles to contemplate the scene.

“I’ve identified the big block to the left,” he observed, and pointed with his fork at a square formed by several rows of lights.

“One should infer that they can cook vegetables,” he added.

“An hotel?” said Helen.