The door opened, revealing an ugly old woman whose face was sallow and wrinkled, and who wore a red kerchief tied over her white hair.
As soon as she saw the chauffeur she welcomed him, addressing him as Paolo, and invited them in.
"This is the English signore," explained the man. "He has come to stay with you."
"The signore is welcome," replied the old woman as she clattered into the narrow, cheaply furnished little sitting-room, which was in half darkness owing to the persiennes being closed.
Truly, it was an uninviting place, which smelt of garlic and of the paraffin oil with which the tiled floors had been rubbed.
"You will require another certificate of identity, signore," said the man, who admitted that he had been engaged in smuggling contraband across the Alps. And delving into his pocket he produced an American passport. It was blank, though the embossed stamp of the United States Government was upon it. The places were ready for the photograph and signature. With it the man handed him a large metal disc, saying: "When you have your picture taken and affixed to it, all you have to do is to damp the paper slightly and impress this stamp. It will then defy detection."
"Where on earth did you get this from?" asked Hugh, noticing that it was a replica of the United States consular seal.
The man smiled, replying: "They make passports of all countries in Spain. You pay for them, and you can get them by the dozen. The embossing stamps are extra. There is a big trade in them now owing to the passport restrictions. Besides, in every country there are passport officers who are amenable to a little baksheesh!" And he grinned.
What he said was true. At no period has it ever been more easy for a criminal to escape than it is to-day, providing, of course, that he is a cosmopolitan and has money.
Hugh took the passport and the disc, adding: "How am I to repay you for all this?"
"I want no payment, signore. All I ask you is to conform to the suggestions of the worthy Signore Ravecca and his good wife here. You are not the first guest they have had for whom the police searched in vain."
"No," laughed the old woman. "Do you recollect the syndic of Porticello, how we had him here for nearly three years, and then he got safely away to Argentina and took the money, three million lire, with him?"
"Yes," was the man's reply. "I recollect it, signora. But the Signore Inglese must be very careful--very careful. He must never go out in the daytime. You can buy him English papers and books of Luccoli, in the Via Bosco. They will serve to while away the time."