11/19 The waiter vanished to execute his orders and Ferrari drew his chair closer to mine. "Can I offer you one of my cigars? Permit me," and he proffered roe a richly embossed and emblazoned silver cigar-case, with the Romani arms and coronet and MY OWN INITIALS engraved thereon. It was mine, of course--I took it with a sensation of grim amusement--I had not seen it since the day I died! "A fine antique," I remarked, carelessly, turning it over and over in my hand, "curious and valuable. A gift or an heirloom ?" "It belonged to my late friend, Count Fabio," he answered, puffing a light cloud of smoke in the air as he drew his cigar from his lips to speak. |