Page 341 - tender-is-the-night

violet dawn fell shrilly upon his pink mask and upon the
linen sack that supported his mustache; then Baby was
standing on the front steps alone. She had been in the em-
bassy ten minutes.
The piazza whereon it faced was empty save for an old
man gathering cigarette butts with a spiked stick. Baby
caught a taxi presently and went to the Consulate but there
was no one there save a trio of wretched women scrubbing
the stairs. She could not make them understand that she
wanted the Consul’s home address—in a sudden resurgence
of anxiety she rushed out and told the chauffeur to take her
to the jail. He did not know where it was, but by the use of
the words semper dritte, dextra and sinestra she manoeu-
vred him to its approximate locality, where she dismounted
and explored a labyrinth of familiar alleys. But the build-
ings and the alleys all looked alike. Emerging from one trail
into the Piazzo d’Espagna she saw the American Express
Company and her heart lifted at the word ‘American’ on the
sign. There was a light in the window and hurrying across
the square she tried the door, but it was locked, and inside
the clock stood at seven. Then she thought of Collis Clay.
She remembered the name of his hotel, a stuffy villa
sealed in red plush across from the Excelsior. The woman
on duty at the office was not disposed to help her—she had
no authority to disturb Mr. Clay, and refused to let Miss
Warren go up to his room alone; convinced finally that this
was not an affair of passion she accompanied her.
Collis lay naked upon his bed. He had come in tight and,
awakening, it took him some moments to realize his nudity.

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