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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
50
A
suspicion
flashed
across
my
mind.
"Look
here,"
I
said
firmly,
"if
the
scene
of
this
story
is
laid
in
the
Highlands,
I
refuse
to
listen
to
it.
Call
it
off."
"No,
no,"
Sinclair
answered
quickly,
"that's
all
right.
It's
laid
in
Italy
...
time
of
Pius
the
something.
He
comes
in--say,
but
he's
great!
so
darned
crafty.
It's
him,
you
know,
that
persuades
this
Franciscan...."
"Pause,"
I
said,
"what
Franciscan?"
"Fra
Fraliccolo,
of
course,"
Sinclair
said
snappishly.
"You
see,
Pio
tries
to...."
"Whoa!"
I
said,
"who
is
Pio?"
"Oh,
hang
it
all,
Pio
is
Italian,
it's
short
for
Pius.
He
tries
to
get
Fra
Fraliccolo
and
Carlo
Carlotti
the
Condottiere
to
steal
the
document
from
...
let
me
see;
what
was
he
called?...Oh,
yes
...
from
the
Dog
of
Venice,
so
that
...
or
...
no,
hang
it,
you
put
me
out,
that's
all
wrong.
It's
the
other
way
round.
Pio
wasn't
clever
at
all;
he's
a
regular
darned
fool.
It's
the
Dog
that's
crafty.
By
Jove,
he's
fine,"
Sinclair
went
on;
warming
up
to
enthusiasm
again,
"he
just
does
anything
he
wants.
He
makes
this
Demonio
(Demonio
is
one
of
those
hirelings,
you
know,
he's
the
tool
of
the
Dog)...makes
him
steal
the
document
off
Porphirio,
and...."
"But
how
does
he
get
him
to
do
that?"
I
asked.
"Oh,
the
Dog
has
Demonio
pretty
well
under
his
thumb,
so
he
makes
Demonio
scheme
round
till
he
gets
old
Pio--er--gets
him
under
his
thumb,
and
then,
of
course,
Pio
thinks
that
Porphirio--I
mean
he
thinks
that
he
has
Porphirio--er--has
him
under
his
thumb."
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