“Inglese?” he asked.

Dion nodded.

“Les Inglesi tres forts, molto forte!” he observed, mixing French with Italian to show his linguistic accomplishments, “Moi tres fort aussi.”

Dion talked to the man.  When he left the boat at the quay he said he would take it again on the morrow.  The intention to go away from Buyukderer, to drown himself again in the uproar of Pera, was already fading out of his mind.  Mrs. Clarke’s silence had, perhaps, reassured him.  The Villa Hafiz did not summon him.  He could seek it if he would.  Evidently it was not going to seek him.

Again he felt grateful to Mrs. Clarke.  Her silence, her neglect of him, increased his faith in her friendship for him.

His second day in Buyukderer dawned; in the late afternoon of it, now sure of his freedom, he went to the Villa Hafiz.

He did not know that Mrs. Clarke was rich.  Indeed he had heard in London that she only had a small income, but that she “did wonders” with it.  In London he had seen her at Claridge’s and at the marvelous flat in Knightsbridge.  Now, at Buyukderer, he found her in a small, but beautifully arranged and furnished, villa with a lovely climbing garden behind it.  Evidently she could not live in ugly surroundings or among cheap and unbeautiful things.  He saw at a glance that the rugs and carpets on the polished floors of the villa were exquisite, that the furniture was not merely graceful and in place but really choice and valuable, and that the few ornaments and pieces of china scattered about, with the most deft decision as to the exactly right place for each mirror, bowl, vase and incense holder, were rarely fine.  Yet in the airy rooms there was no dreary look of the museum.  On the contrary, they had an intimate, almost a homely air, in spite of their beauty.  Books and magazines were allowed their place, and on a grand piano, almost in the middle of the largest room, which opened by long windows into an adroitly tangled rose garden where a small fountain purred amongst blue lilies, there was a quantity of music.  The whole house was strongly scented with flowers.  Dion was greeted at its threshold by a wave of delicious perfume.

Mrs. Clarke received him in her most casual, most impersonal manner, and made no allusion to the fact that she knew he had already been for two days in Buyukderer without coming near her.  She asked him if his room at the hotel was all right, and when he thanked her for bothering about him said that Cyril Vane had seen to it.

“He’s a kind, useful sort of boy,” she added, “and often helps me with little things.”

That day she said nothing about the Ambassador and Lady Ingleton, and showed no disposition to assume any proprietorship over Dion.  She took him over the house, and also into the garden.