Tracks in the Snow by Godfrey R. Benson — Read

Whether it was that my fancies pursued me to the inn, or that Vane-Cartwright's words had unconsciously impressed me, I took and have retained a great dislike to the gentleman who was just arriving at the inn. He came, as he said, for dry-fly fishing, but his accent and his looks showed him to be native to a land where dry fly-fishing is, I believe, not practised. He was near me and about me several times in the course of that day, and though he molested me in no way, my dislike deepened. It was now near midday and I contemplated taking no further step till evening, so I had plenty of time for thought, and I needed it. It may be imagined that I was in a state of some tension. I had rested little since I left Vane-Cartwright's hotel at Florence, and on arriving at the inn I had news which increased my agitation. My wife had telegraphed to my home saying she had gone for a day or two to the Hôtel de Brunswick, saying also, that I must pay no attention to any wire, purporting to be from her, which did not contain the word "Fidele. " Evidently there was someone in Florence whom she suspected would send false messages. I conjectured that Vane-Cartwright had an understanding with the Mafia, and had obtained through them the services of some villain. Well, here was a wire: "Regret to acquaint respected sir, Mrs. Driver suddenly unwell.

-- Direttore Hôtel Brunswick."