CHAPTER XXXV

GOLDEN HOPES Mr Franz Lindner, _alias_ Signor Francesco of the London Pavilion, laid down his morning paper at his lodgings in Soho, with unmistakable outward and visible signs of a very bad humour. Montepulciano and Lacrima-Christi, as Florian put it, had evidently disagreed with him. But that was not all. The subject which roused his undisguised discontent was the marked success of the woman he once loved—the woman he loved now even more than ever. For this was what Franz had read, amid much else of the same chea…