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Vincenti
,
member
of
the
Vesuvius
Company
,
had
landed
and
were
pushing
their
way
,
bluff
,
hearty
and
nonchalant
,
through
the
crowd
on
the
narrow
sidewalk
.
Clad
in
white
linen
,
big
,
debonair
,
with
an
air
of
good-humoured
authority
,
they
made
conspicuous
figures
among
the
dark
mass
of
unimposing
Anchurians
,
as
they
penetrated
to
within
a
few
yards
of
the
steps
of
the
Casa
Morena
.
Looking
easily
above
the
heads
of
the
crowd
,
they
perceived
another
that
towered
above
the
undersized
natives
.
It
was
the
fiery
poll
of
Dicky
Maloney
against
the
wall
close
by
the
lower
step
;
and
his
broad
,
seductive
grin
showed
that
he
recognized
their
presence
.
Dicky
had
attired
himself
becomingly
for
the
festive
occasion
in
a
well-fitting
black
suit
.
Pasa
was
close
by
his
side
,
her
head
covered
with
the
ubiquitous
black
mantilla
.
Mr.
Vincenti
looked
at
her
attentively
.
"
Botticelli
's
Madonna
,
"
he
remarked
,
gravely
.
"
I
wonder
when
she
got
into
the
game
.
I
do
n't
like
his
getting
tangled
with
the
women
.
I
hoped
he
would
keep
away
from
them
.
"
Captain
Cronin
's
laugh
almost
drew
attention
from
the
parade
.
"
With
that
head
of
hair
!
Keep
away
from
the
women
!
And
a
Maloney
!
Has
n't
he
got
a
license
?
But
,
nonsense
aside
,
what
do
you
think
of
the
prospects
?
It
's
a
species
of
filibustering
out
of
my
line
.
"
Vincenti
glanced
again
at
Dicky
's
head
and
smiled
.
"
Rouge
et
noir
,
"
he
said
.
"
There
you
have
it
.
Make
your
play
,
gentlemen
.
Our
money
is
on
the
red
.
"
"
The
lad
's
game
,
"
said
Cronin
,
with
a
commending
look
at
the
tall
,
easy
figure
by
the
steps
.
"
But
'
tis
all
like
fly-by-night
theatricals
to
me
.
The
talk
's
bigger
than
the
stage
;
there
's
a
smell
of
gasoline
in
the
air
,
and
they
're
their
own
audience
and
scene-shifters
.
"
