"Besides," he supplemented, "Delgado is a dreaming degenerate! We must
get back into the game."
The Spaniard laughed. "As you say, Señor. After all, this mere
cruising grows monotonous. Playing the game is better."
When, at twilight that evening, the launch came chugging back to the
yacht with the mail from Naples, Benton caught sight of a blue envelope
in which he recognized the form of the Italian telegraph. He tore it
open and his brows contracted in incredulous wonderment as he read the
message.
"Miss Carstow and two other ladies arrive Parker's Hotel Naples Tuesday
afternoon. Rely on your meeting her with yacht. She will explain. Be
ready to sail immediately on arrival. Address reply Pagratide, care
Grand Palace Hotel."
Benton smiled almost happily as he scrawled, in reply, "Isis and self
at Miss Carstow's service. Waiting under steam. Benton."