But though the old-fashioned Roman workman still looks upon all traditional information about his trade as secret and never to be revealed, that fact alone might seem insufficient to account for the behaviour of Gigi the carpenter and of Toto the mason under the particular circumstances here narrated, still less for the contempt they showed for the snuffy expert who was apparently looking for the “lost water.”  An invisible witness would have gathered that they had something of more importance to conceal.  To the expert, their conduct and answers must have been thoroughly unsatisfactory, for the Vatican was even said to have refused to pay the additional fifty thousand francs, On the ground that the state of the foundations was doubtful and that the timbers of the upper story were not sound.

Baron Volterra’s equanimity was not in the least disturbed by this.  On the contrary, instead of setting the price lower, he frankly told all applicants, through his agent, that he was in no hurry to sell, as he had reason to believe that the land about the Palazzo Conti would soon rise in value.  He had settled with the representatives of the Conti family, and it was said that he had behaved generously.  The family had nothing left after the crash, which might partially account for such an exhibition of generosity; but it was hinted that Baron Volterra had given them the option of buying back the palace and some other property upon which he had foreclosed, if they should be able to pay for it in ten years.

Soon after the visit of the snuffy expert, Volterra’s agent informed the porter that a gentleman had taken the small apartment on the intermediate story, which had formerly been occupied by a chaplain but had been disused for years.  It had been part of the Conti’s folly that they had steadily refused to let any part of the vast building since the old Prince’s death.

On the following day, the new-comer moved in, with his belongings, consisting of a small quantity of new furniture, barely sufficient for himself and his one servant, and a number of very heavy cases, which turned out to be full of books.  Gigi, the carpenter, was at once sent for to put up plain shelves for these, and he took stock of the lodger while the latter was explaining what he wanted.

“He is a gentleman,” said Gigi to Toto, that very evening, as they stood filling their pipes at the corner of the Vicolo del Soldati.  “His name is Malipieri.  He is as black as the horses at a funeral of the first-class, and he is not a Roman.”

“Who knows what race of animal this may be?” Toto was not in a good humour.

“He is of the race of gentlemen,” asserted Gigi confidently.

“Then he will end badly,” observed Toto.  “Let us go and drink.  It is better.”

“Let us go and drink,” repeated Gigi.  “You have a sensible thought sometimes.  I think this man is an engineer, or an architect.  He wants a draughtsman’s table.”