certain persons are inquisitive.
the half-open door through which i had been watching the men’s mysterious movements, and the discovery of the fugitive’s hidden wealth, suddenly closed of its own accord, with the heavy clang of iron.
besides startling me, it left me in semi-darkness in the great salon.
i heard them rush frantically towards it, trying to open it, but their efforts were unavailing. loud imprecations escaped them, for they believed that some person had imprisoned them. if they succeeded in escaping they would certainly discover me, therefore my position was one of extreme peril.
but i recollected the strange ticking of that clock which had commenced when the secret cupboard had been opened. the ticking had now ceased, therefore the door had closed automatically upon the intruders. by some clever contrivance nardini had connected his secret hiding-place with the door that had been strengthened and lined with steel, enamelled white to match the wood-work of the salon. by a clockwork arrangement the door would evidently close upon the inquisitive person who opened the cupboard at a certain time afterwards.
when the little clock standing upon the pearl-inlaid cabinet had suddenly broken the silence by ticking it had attracted my attention, but i quickly forgot it in watching the trio so narrowly. the study window was evidently strongly barred, as were all the windows of the ground floor of the villa, the bars being built into the wall outside the house in such a manner that they could only be filed through, an operation which would take considerable time even with proper tools.
they hammered upon the door and threw their weight upon it, but it did not budge. evidently by the same mechanical contrivance several strong steel bolts had been shot into their sockets.
the trio at the very moment of their sudden acquisition of nardini’s dishonestly obtained wealth had been entrapped.
“we’re discovered!” i heard miller cry in english.
“whoever has found us has locked us in!”
it never occurred to them that the cupboard and the door were connected, or that nardini had invented such an ingenious contrivance in order to entrap any thief who might discover his secret.
“we must get out of this as quickly as possible!” gavazzi exclaimed breathlessly. “let’s make the division of the money afterwards.”
“the window!” suggested the younger man, but a rapid examination proved it to be too strongly barred.
i heard them within the room consulting with each other as to what could be done, and was amused at their chagrin, having discovered the dead man’s hoard only to be so unexpectedly imprisoned with the wealth upon them.
the two italians showered fierce imprecations upon whoever had bolted them in, and vowed that the police should never take them alive. they knew, too well, the serious charge they would have to face, for they knew that the body of the detective left in charge would be discovered behind the side door.
a heavy piece of furniture was brought to play upon the study door, but the sound made as they battered with it revealed to them that they were endeavouring to break down iron.
“hush!” cried miller suddenly. “we mustn’t make a noise like that. there are probably contadini living in the vicinity, and it will awaken them.”
“bah!” responded the doctor. “they’ll only believe that it’s a ghost. here the contadini are most superstitious.”
“but the carabinieri are not,” remarked the young accomplice apprehensively. “my own idea is that we’ve been followed. i noticed a man in a dark suit looking very hard at us when we left the train.”
“what kind of man?” the doctor inquired quickly.
“looked like an inglese signore, rather tall, about thirty, and wore a dark suit.”
“why in the name of fate didn’t you mention it to us at the time?” cried miller. “an inglese! who could he possibly be? have you ever seen him before?”
“never.”
“then he may have followed us here and alarmed the carabinieri!” gasped the doctor. “we must escape—before they arrest us!”
i saw that the young thief had noticed me when i had followed them out into the darkness from the station at tivoli. he would therefore recognise me if we met again.
they would, no doubt, make a desperate attempt at escape. yet should i raise the alarm and call the police? was it policy on my part to do so? if lucie’s father were arrested, lucie herself must surely be implicated, and perhaps through gordon-wright my own dear love might also find herself in the criminal’s dock.
the mystery had grown so complicated and so inexplicable that i feared to take any step towards the denunciation of the thieves.
my only policy was to wait and to watch.
i recollected ella’s appeal to me to remain silent concerning the scoundrel under whose banal thrall she had so mysteriously fallen, and i feared that if i made my statement it might lead to the fellow’s arrest.
what, i wondered, was the true explication of the mystery of the unknown girl being found in that room wherein the three thieves were entrapped? who was she? what did lucie know concerning her?
a great fear possessed me that the police, in searching, would discover lucie in leghorn, though in italy the detectives always find more difficulty in tracing foreigners than the italians themselves. every italian, when he moves his habitation even from one street to the other, is compelled to give notice to the police. but not so the large foreign floating population who are for ever moving over the face of what is essentially a tourists’ country.
another great crash upon the door awakened me to a sense of my peril, should these men succeed in escaping. with as little compunction as they had struck down the guard, they would, i knew, strike me down, and even though i had a revolver they were three to one. besides, a pistol is no use against a knife in the hands of such an expert as the young thief in the grey hat whom they had so swiftly taken into their confidence.
with regret that they had seized that large amount in money, and yet in the hope that they might regain their liberty and remain for some time longer—at least until i had learned the truth concerning my well-beloved—i crept softly back along the great salon, feeling my way before me with my hands. so thick was the carpet that my feet fell noiselessly, and my escape was rendered all the more easy by the noise the men were making by trying to batter down the door.
swiftly i retraced my steps along the corridors, through the picture-gallery and the older wing of the great house, until i came to the long dim stone corridor. i shuddered as i passed into it, for there lay still undiscovered, and in the same position in which the assassins had left it, the body of the unfortunate police agent who had been left in charge of the fugitive’s property which had been seized by the government. on tiptoe i approached it, and bending, replaced the revolver.
then with a final glance at the evidence of a horrible deed—a deed committed for the lust of gold—i crept out into the early morning air which blew fresh and cool from over the mountains, causing the leaves of the vines to rustle while a loose sun-shutter creaked mournfully as it swung to and fro overhead.
retracing my steps through the vineyard i gained the high-road, when the fancy took me to ascend to the back of the villa and listen if i could hear the imprisoned intruders.
hardly had i reached the top of the hill when the truth was revealed to me, as i expected. their voices could be distinctly heard, for one of those strongly barred windows that looked out upon the roadway was that of the room wherein the absconding ex-minister had concealed the money he had filched from the public purse.
i halted in the darkness beneath the window, trying to catch the drift of the conversation, and even while i stood there one of them pulled aside the heavy curtains and allowed a stream of light to fall across the roadway. it was surely an injudicious action, yet they could not examine the bars without so doing.
standing back in the shadow i saw them open the window and feel the strength of that thick prison-like grating, the defence in those turbulent days when the place had been a miniature fortress.
“without a file, it’s impossible to break them,” declared gavazzi, in a tone of deep disappointment. “but we must get out somehow. every moment’s delay places us in graver peril. what shall we do?”
i saw that their position was utterly hopeless. they had been caught like rats in a trap. therefore i crept along under the old stone wall of the villa and made my way down the hill in the direction of where the electric street lamps of the town of tivoli were shining.
it was, i saw by my watch, already half-past two.
after walking near half a mile, at a bend in the road two carabineers in uniform, with their guns slung upon their shoulders, emerged suddenly upon me and called me to halt.
imagine my confusion. i held my breath, and perhaps it was fortunate for me that the darkness hid the pallor of my face.
“who are you?” demanded one of the rural guards in italian, with a strong northern accent. he was piedmontese, i think.
“i am an englishman,” i answered, quite frankly, but making a strenuous effort to remain calm.
“so i hear by your speech,” the man replied gruffly. “and what are you doing here? the english don’t usually walk about here at this hour?”
“i’ve walked from palestrina, and lost myself in the darkness. is that tivoli down yonder?”
“yes it is. but what’s your name?” he inquired, as though my quick reply had aroused his suspicions. i regretted my words next instant. i intended to mislead the man, but he evidently did not believe me. i saw that if i was not now perfectly frank i might be arrested on suspicion and detained in the carabineer barracks until morning.
i recognised into what deadly peril my intrepidity had now led me. if they detained me the discovery of the tragedy and robbery at the villa verde would certainly be made, and i should find myself implicated with those three assassins. the circumstantial evidence against me would be very strong, and it might be many months before i regained my freedom. in such circumstances i should, alas! lose my ella for ever!
“my name is godfrey leaf, native of london,” was my reply.
“and what brings you here? you certainly haven’t walked from palestrina. you’d be more dusty than you are.”
“of course he would,” remarked the man’s companion, shifting his carbine to his other shoulder. “he’s lying.”
“well,” i said, feigning to be insulted by the fellow’s inquiries, “why should i tell you my business? it is no affair of yours, surely. do you think i’m an assassin, or on my way to rob some contadini of his poultry?”
“we can never tell a man by his dress. besides, how are we to know who you are—that you are really the person you say?”
i was silent. his question was an awkward one. but suddenly i recollected.
“well, perhaps this will convince you that i’m a respectable person, eh?” and taking from my pocket-book my italian revolver licence i handed it to him. he opened it suspiciously, then said; “come farther down with us, to that light, and let’s have a good look at you.”
now an italian licence to carry a revolver is a very different document from that in england. it is issued only in very rare cases by the police themselves to responsible persons who first have to show that they are in danger of their lives from vendetta or some other cause, and that to carry a weapon is for them personal defence. upon the licence is the minute police description of the person to whom it is issued, as well as his signature, while the document is also countersigned by the prefect of the city whence it is issued. it is therefore the best of all identification papers.
obeying the guards, i walked with them down to the light at the town gateway where they read the official permit, closely scrutinising me as they reached each individual description, colour of hair and eyes, shape of nose, forehead and head, and the dozen other small details, all of which they found tallied with the licence.
“born in london and domiciled in milan, i see,” remarked the carabineer.
“i was living in milan when i applied to the public security department for the permit.”
“well,” he said, “it’s lucky for you you had it upon you, otherwise you might have spent a day or two in prison for the untruth you told us.” and he handed back the licence to me with a grim smile. “perhaps you’ll tell me now where you really have been?”
i saw it necessary to alter my tactics, therefore i answered with a laugh:—
“to tell the truth i came out from rome last night to keep an appointment—a secret one—with a lady—if you really must know.”
“then you’d better go back again to rome,” was his answer, apparently well satisfied, and believing that story more probable. “there’s a train in twenty minutes or so, and we’ll see you into it. we are on our way to the station.”
from that moment we grew friendly, for the carabineers are a splendid body of picked men, and are always polite to the foreigner.
“you were coming down from the villa yonder,” explained the man who had interrogated me half apologetically. “therefore we had to ascertain who you were.”
“what villa do you mean?”
“the onorovele nardini’s. he’s absconded, as i daresay you’ve heard.”
“ah?” i said, “i did read in the english journals something about it. and did he live up there?”
“yes. at the big villa. you must have passed it. he used to live here a great deal, and every one believed him to be an honest man.”
“wasn’t he?”
“dio no! he got a million francs of the public money, and no one knows what has become of it.” was either of these men the son of the old concierge in the via del tritone, i wondered? i longed to ask them, but dare not. they, of course, told me nothing regarding the mysterious discovery of a woman’s body in the ex-minister’s study. perhaps, indeed, they, like all others outside the confidential branch of the police service, were ignorant of it.
“and doesn’t any one know where he is?” i asked, as we strolled at length upon the dark platform of the railway station.
“oh! he’s in estero somewhere. we shall never get him, you may be sure. when once a man like that gets over the frontier he’s gone for ever.”
what, i wondered, would these two men think when, on the morrow, the truth of what had occurred at the villa verde became revealed! the body of the detective would be found, and another mystery would succeed the one which was being so carefully suppressed.
both men accepted cigarettes from my case as we idled up and down the platform awaiting the train for rome. it was their duty to meet all the night trains and note all arrivals and departures, therefore we passed an idle half-hour gossiping pleasantly until the train drew up, and entering a first-class compartment i bade them farewell and breathed freely again as we moved off towards the “eternal city.”
the instant the train was clear of the station i saw my imminent peril. by ill-fortune these guards had met me, they had read my name, seen my description, and knew me well. as soon as the discovery was made in the villa verde—indeed, at any moment—they would telegraph those details all over the country and eagerly seek to arrest me as an accomplice. whether miller and his friends were arrested or not, they would naturally connect me with the affair. that was but natural.
fortunately i had succeeded in impressing upon them that i was a respectable person, but i recognised that if i desired to retain my liberty—my liberty to free my love from that mysterious bond which held her to a scoundrel—i must escape from italy both immediately and secretly.
before arrival in rome i took off the gold pince-nez i habitually wore, discarded my collar and cravat, tied my handkerchief around my neck in attempt at disguise, and so passed the barrier. afterwards i walked some distance, and then took a cab to the hotel.
at eight o’clock, with a ticket for florence by way of pisa, i was in the express for the frontier at modane. i purposely took a ticket for florence, and then from pisa, at two o’clock in the afternoon, i took another ticket to turin. if my departure had been noted, they would search for me in florence.
that journey was, perhaps, one of the most exciting in all my life. i travelled third-class, attired in an old suit, old boots, and a handkerchief tied about my neck. in turin i had four hours to wait, as the express to paris did not convey third-class passengers, and those four hours passed slowly, for being a constant traveller i was known by sight by the waiters in the buffet and many officials. therefore i was compelled to avoid them. besides, was i not still in italy? the police had no doubt already discovered what had occurred at the villa verde, and from rome my description had probably been telegraphed along every line of railway.
next morning, however, before it was light, i descended from the omnibus-train that had crawled up the alpine slopes and through the mont cenis tunnel, and found myself upon the long dreary platform at the french frontier, modane.
i had now to face the pair of scrutinising italian detectives who i knew stood at the door of the custom house watching every one who leaves the country.
it was a breathless moment. if i passed them without recognition i should be free. if not—well it would mean disaster, terrible and complete, both for me and to the woman i so dearly loved.
i was risking all, for her sake, because she was mine. i was striving to solve the mystery, and to gain knowledge that would place her beyond the reach of that blackguard who held her so irrevocably in his power.
summoning all my courage i gripped the bundle which contained a few necessaries—for the remainder of my luggage i had sent direct to charing cross and posted the receipt for it to my club—and went forward into the custom house, displaying my belongings to the french douanier.
they had been viséd, i had tied them up again in the big handkerchief, and was passing out.
another moment and i should be upon french territory.
suddenly, however, a heavy hand was placed upon my shoulder, and a voice exclaimed in italian:—
“one moment! excuse me. i have a word to say to you!”
turning with a start i faced a short man in a light tweed suit, while behind him stood the two detectives.
my heart sank within me. i knew that the affair at the villa verde had been discovered, and that i was lost!
