One never hears of half of them. I never had heard
of the Prince d'Abruzzi until I went to Italy, and I've heard jolly well
little of him since, except indirectly."
Mr. Cadwallader lapsed into silence as he sat staring at a large group
photograph which was framed on a wall of the dining-room.
"Isn't that the royal family of Italy?" he asked. He rose and went over
to it. "By Jove, it is, and here is the prince in the group. The picture
was taken, I should say, about the time I knew him."
Mr. Grimm strolled over idly and stood for a long time staring at the
photograph.
"He can drive a motor, you know," said Mr. Cadwallader admiringly. "And
Italy is the place to drive them. They forgot to make any speed laws
over there, and if a chap gets in your way and you knock him silly they
arrest him for obstructing traffic, you know. Over here if a chap really
starts to go any place in a hurry some bally idiot holds him up."
"Have you ever been held up?" queried Mr. Grimm.
"No, but I expect to be every day," was the reply. "I've got a new
motor, you know, and I've never been able to see how fast it is.
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