the days that followed were some of the happiest of my life. there was, as may be imagined, more than ordinary delight in having been the instrument of that marvellous change from sorrow to joy, and such joy, the like of which it has been few men’s luck to witness. then came the happiness of my betrothal, and the sunny days seemed to glide by with scarcely a cloud on our horizon. and, as though everything conspired to complete our happiness, one that did seem in our graver moments to threaten, was suddenly dispersed. one morning i saw in an italian newspaper a paragraph to the effect that the count von rallenstein had on the previous day been seized with a paralytic stroke, and that the famous chancellor’s state of health gave occasion for considerable anxiety.
under the circumstances we could hardly pretend to take as anything but good fortune the news that the ruthless, vindictive autocrat’s power for harm was practically at an end. from von lindheim, now safe in paris, i had received news; the end of the chancellor’s reign would make all the difference to him; for, however matters might have otherwise changed (as by the failure of rallenstein’s marriage scheme), he would never have dared to risk a return to his native country under the old régime. i sent the good news to my friend, with a suggestion that he should [pg 239]join us at verona. strode, now well again, was expected; naturally asta’s parents were most anxious to make his acquaintance and thank him personally for the indispensable part he had taken in the rescue. we were going to be a very happy and merry party; but the night before our friend’s arrival a startling event happened which showed me on the brink of what an awful danger we were trifling.
that night we were invited to a rather grand reception at the guacini palace. naturally the rooms were crowded, so crowded that asta and i made our way from the crush, and finding a little room leading out of one of the salons we sat there cosily, out of touch, yet in sight of the restless crowd just beyond.
“what a change,” asta remarked, “in my hopes, in my life, from only a few days ago. think of me in that dismal room, a prisoner expecting every time the door opened that death would enter. could i ever have dreamt to have seen the world again like this?”
“you must not let your mind run on that gloomy time now that it is so happily past,” i remonstrated, clasping the hand which was slid into mine. “we have now only joy to look forward to, for it shall not be my fault if the future does not compensate for all you have gone through. it is hard, but you must try, dearest, to dismiss it all as a hideous dream.”
“we are going to be so happy,” she said lovingly, “that i am sure as time goes on i shall think less of those terrible days. but can i forget them without ignoring a certain dear brave englishman who——”
i stopped her. “asta, i wish you would forget that part of our acquaintance. i don’t want you to love me for that.”
she laughed. “for that only, you mean, sir. but as to forgetting one little incident—no; not if by that i might have no recollection of my terror and sufferings. and now all is life and joy again. a few [pg 240]days ago i had nothing before me but the choice of death—or worse.” she shuddered. “of becoming the countess furello; the wife of a murderer. can i ever thank you, ever love you enough? it is so hot here,” she said, after a pause which was not altogether blank; “let us come and see whether we can find our way to the garden.”
as we rose i noticed that a jewel in her hair had become disarranged and was in danger of falling out. she turned to a great mirror on the wall and made the ornament fast. suddenly, as she turned again, she gave a little half-gasping cry. i thought she must have hurt her head with the pin of the ornament, but soon saw that her cry had been called forth by something much worse than that, for she clasped my hand convulsively, and for some moments seemed speechless for very terror. at length she could answer me, in a frightened whisper:
“furello! i saw him there as i turned from the glass. his face there, looking in at us. he is here.”
“here!” i echoed incredulously, though with an uneasy feeling that the thing was quite possible.
“here, yes; i saw the hateful face in the doorway, i tell you. he looked into this room, only for a moment. jasper, my darling, you will save me from him, will you not?”
i reassured her as best i could, both on that point and on the likelihood of her being mistaken. “your mind is full of the man,” i argued. “some one resembling him looked in, and your nerves not having quite recovered made you think it was he.”
but she insisted; she was sure. “do you suppose i could ever be mistaken in that face?” she said. “it was count furello.”
“but what should he be doing here?” i reasoned. “here in one of the most exclusive gatherings in verona. his evil reputation is such that no decent [pg 241]countryman of his own would know him. of that you may be sure. and to think that prince guacini would admit him across his threshold is absurd.”
reason as i would, nothing would shake her conviction that it had been furello and none other that she had seen. it was distressing to me to see the mortal fear into which the sight, fancied or real, had thrown my darling.
“i will settle this at once,” i said. “come back to your father while i search the rooms. if the count is here i will find him. but i think it far more likely i shall light on the double who has frightened you.”
she clung to me as we made our way through the crowd to where her parents were sitting. so far no one in the least like count furello came under my notice, though i kept a sharp look-out on all sides. i gave general von winterstein a hint of what had happened, and with a word of encouragement to asta went off on my search.
it was vain. the thorough scrutiny i made in the rooms and all likely and unlikely places in the palace showed me no count furello or any one resembling him closely enough to have deceived asta. one man, indeed, i pitched upon as being perhaps sufficiently near to the count’s general appearance to have suggested that arch villain, especially when seen casually for a moment. but upon my pointing him out to asta she was quite convinced that he was not the man she had seen, and that it had indeed been furello.
the episode, mysterious and disquieting enough, seemed suddenly to plunge us from an unclouded happiness and confidence into fear. not that there was any danger of open violence there. it was quite certain that if furello was really among the guests, a word to the prince would be enough to have him [pg 242]turned out not only of the palace but probably of the country. the worst part of it was, though, that the count’s methods were essentially cunning and secret; had he been an open enemy there would have been little ground for fear.
i was inclined, however, to regard the whole affair as the effect of asta’s unstrung nerves. rallenstein was now practically hors de combat, and it was scarcely likely that the count would have ventured to follow us with any sinister purpose on his own account. the idea in my mind was that he was somewhat of a coward who required the impelling will of a stronger man behind his fell enterprises.
for the rest of the time i stayed at the palace i did not cease to look about for the man; had he been there i certainly must have lighted upon him. the report of my fruitless search at last reassured asta a little, and when i parted from her at her aunt’s house i was glad to see that she seemed to have got over the worst of her fear. we had arranged to meet strode next day, and i turned towards my hotel full of pleasant anticipations.
when i arrived there it was past midnight; a sleepy porter let me in, and i went straight to my apartment, which consisted of a sitting-room, with a bedroom, en suite. here i found a long letter awaiting me from von lindheim. tired as i was, i lighted the candles on my table and began to read it, being eager to know what his plans were. this was the first letter of any length i had received from him; it was closely written, and contained an account of the incidents of his long journey, including some narrow escapes he had had from being detected and falling into the hands of rallenstein’s emissaries. i had drawn a chair to the table and sat down to study the closely-written pages, when, in turning over one and raising my eyes to the beginning of the next, they caught on the opposite wall [pg 243]an arresting movement, a stirring of the shadow thrown by a full moon on the opposite wall. my back was to the window, and the phenomenon betokened that the drawn curtains behind me were being stealthily moved apart. realizing this, i raised the letter to the level of my eyes, as though it were difficult to decipher. looking over the paper, i watched the wall before me. slowly the streak widened, and in the middle there appeared a shadow—the form, unmistakably, of a man’s head, framed, as it were, in the aperture.
then, with a thrill, i knew that a crisis, the most desperate of all, had come. assuredly nothing but sheer presence of mind was between me and death. this thought nerved me; every moment now was critical. a suspicious movement on my part would mean a bullet through me; before i could turn i should be a dead man. my one chance lay in taking my concealed enemy by surprise.
“tchut! i do wish, my dear friend, you would write legibly,” i said aloud. “was there ever such a fist! i shall have to get a reading-glass to you, mein herr. let’s see, there was one on this table.”
muttering thus, always distinctly enough for my words to be heard, i moved away quickly and crossed to a little writing-table that stood in the corner of the room. by this i was somewhat out of that uncomfortable direct line of fire. the bell was at the other side of the room; to have attempted to reach it would have been madness. making a pretence of seeking the glass among the nick-nacks on the writing-table i was able to get out my revolver, which events had now taught me never to be without.
“ah, here it is!” i said, going back as to my chair.
next instant, by a quick movement, i had turned and flung aside the curtain, my revolver covering the place where i knew the intruder must be.
[pg 244]
“count furello!” i cried. “come out and show yourself, you cowardly villain!”
i do not know why my revolver hung fire, for i had resolved to shoot him on sight. but the moment’s hesitation as i brought the count—it was he—to view, showed him to me standing against the window with dropped hands, and none of the expected signs of attack. i could not shoot, even him, like that; if only he had made the slightest aggressive movement i would not have hesitated. as it was i stayed looking at him. he stood there quite motionless, his arms by his side, and, so far as i could see, with no weapon in his hand. his face looked absolutely white, the mouth was drawn behind the bristling moustache into the suggestion of an ugly grin, not reflected in the eyes, which glittered with repressed viciousness.
i think we must have stared at one another for some seconds before i spoke.
“what are you doing here, count?”
the grin deepened. “a scarcely necessary question. you are going to shoot. please don’t delay. i am ready to pay the penalty of my rashness and your superior—luck.”
the hatred with which he spoke the last words was indescribable.
“you will have to pay the penalty,” i said, trying to bring myself to press the trigger. his face was calm now except for the gleam of desperation in his eyes. my better judgment told me to send a bullet through that scoundrel’s heart, yet i paused, perhaps in the very certainty that the heart was covered by my pistol.
“we are rivals, it seems,” furello said calmly. “may we not settle our differences in the approved fashion?”
“rivals! you and i!” was my scornful answer. “was that your intention, count?”
[pg 245]
he gave a shrug and a look of devilish mockery. “i had not made up my mind. i have not an englishman’s good fortune. but it is plain that the time for one of us has arrived.”
in talking to me like this he must have felt pretty confident of the difference between my nature and his own; had the positions been reversed, little time would he have given me for parley, except, perhaps, as a cat prolongs a mouse’s agony. i had evidently taken him by surprise, and so at a disadvantage; no chance was left for him but to calculate upon my sense of chivalry. chivalry with that murderous reptile! i wonder how i allowed such a consideration to influence me; but somehow it seemed hard to pull the trigger in cold blood.
“will you give me a chance, my dear tyrrell?” he demanded again, but without the ugly grin. “or are you going to shoot me here as i stand defenceless? if so, for heaven’s sake be quick about it.”
instead of taking him at his word, i, like a fool, began to retort. the thought of asta and all this loathsome brute had made her suffer came to my mind with the recollection of the pitiable state of fear she had shown that evening.
“chance!” i cried. “what chance did you mean to give me when you pressed me to eat poisoned sweetmeats at your cursed table? what chance was i to have in that assassin’s room you gave me to sleep in? what chance did you give that poor priest whom you decoyed to your devil’s den—the man who, three hours after, was lying in his grave in the wood. you talk to me of—ah! you——!”
he had suddenly stooped and made a desperate rush at me. perhaps he saw that i was working myself up to do what i should have done long before. no doubt my vehemence had relaxed my alertness. his move was a clever one, for in his stooping position, [pg 246]he offered a much worse mark for a shot, and greatly reduced the certainty of a mortal wound. in that one fierce crouching spring he was upon me and at close quarters, while my advantage was almost gone. i must have fired, but have no recollection of the shot. i only know that each seized the other’s right wrist with the left hand. so he was safe from my revolver, and i from something i could see shining in his grasp.
i think the feeling uppermost in my mind at that supreme moment was one of bitter disgust at my own folly; but, after the first pang of discomfiture there was no room for any thought but of mastering the human hyena that had fastened on me. it was evident to me that i was the stronger and more athletic man, but then my adversary had the strength of desperation; he had gained the first advantage, and would naturally fight like a demon.
it was scarcely a violent struggle at first. we stood for a while wrestling warily, confining our efforts almost entirely to the arms. i can see now furello’s horrible face close to mine; it was as though in those critical moments every evil passion of his life, every crime, every knavery, sprang its index into his countenance. if ever the devil looked out of a man’s eyes, there he was in that glare of desperate vicious hatred and rage. soon i put forth a greater effort, and to my relief it confirmed the idea that my adversary’s strength was less than my own. i forced him backwards step by step till i held him against the wall. suddenly he pressed himself close against me, struggling furiously to force towards me the hand i held. in it was an object which scarcely suggested a weapon. a short metal instrument, square at the butt and tapering to a very fine point. i could not tell what it actually was, but the fact of the count’s using it was enough to give me a shrewd idea of its purpose. at any rate i thought i would make trial of its effectiveness on its owner. [pg 247]so, holding away from the sting-like point, i forced furello round from the wall, then against the table, then backwards upon it, where naturally he was at my mercy. then i set myself to force down the hand with its mysterious weapon upon him. as he realized my intention he, even at the disadvantage of that almost helpless position, struggled with such convulsive fury that for a time he baffled my purpose. then gradually my greater strength told, the point was forced down till it entered his cheek.
“a——h!”
such a cry, as the stylet dug into the flesh. the grip on my revolver hand relaxed so that with a sharp wrench i could release it. the fingers of the count’s other hand still rigidly clutched the strange weapon. i had now the pistol free and pressed to his temple.
“let go!” i said, “or i’ll blow your brains out!”
“shoot!” he cried. “shoot! i defy you, cursed englishman! you dare not!”
he raised his head and tried furiously to bite my hand. i beat his head back with the revolver and drove by sheer weight the stylet into his neck. he screamed and wriggled like a wounded animal, but i had no pity for him, only heartily wishing the part i was forced to play had fallen to another man’s lot. as i held him there an idea crossed my mind and determined me to get from him the murderous little weapon which he held so tenaciously. after a sharp struggle i succeeded in unloosening the nervous fingers, and, obtaining possession of the instrument, flung it to the farther end of the room.
the count now lay absolutely still, except for his heaving chest. suspicious of his further power for mischief i began to feel for any weapon he might have about him. there was a revolver in a pocket of his coat. i took it out, and then drew a little away, [pg 248]contenting myself with watching keenly for any suspicious movement.
he lay quite passive on the table just as i had forced him down: on his back with his legs dangling, his feet scarcely touching the floor. it seemed as though all the fight was beaten out of him. the situation was a hideous one for me, and i began to speculate how long it would last and how it would end, when suddenly a convulsive shudder seemed to run through the man as he lay before me. his hands opened and clenched thrice, then another convulsion shook him and he called me by name.
“shoot me!” he gasped in a voice thick and hardly recognizable. “if you are a man send a bullet through me and put me out of my agony.”
the conjecture in my mind now became a certainty; i returned no answer; simply waited in silence.
another spasm seemed to madden him.
“shoot me! shoot me, curse you!” he cried, breaking out into a string of hideous imprecations.
i said nothing, and sat quite still.
“tyrrell!” he screamed; and then, by what seemed a terrible effort, sat upright.
i sprang from my chair in horror. the face, which had been hidden from me as he lay, was now dark purple, almost black. the blazing eyes protruded from their sockets, the swollen lips, jet black were drawn back into a frightful grin; the man was a human being no longer; it seemed as though he were already a devil, as hideous as the imagination of man ever conceived. the sight brought back to me poor szalay’s appearance in his death agony, but the effect of the poison here was indescribably more fearful.
for the first time in that perilous half-hour i felt fear—sickening fear. the thing opposite to me was so unutterably loathsome that the very idea of his breath reaching me was horrible. i recall that in sheer [pg 249]panic, i raised my revolver, but before i could fire, the count, with a sound of words which the tumid tongue would not utter, fell back. i could endure the terrible sight no longer, but rushed from the room, locking the door behind me. when i had roused the hotel people and the door was opened again, count furello lay still on the table—dead.
so perished this villain by the horrible means he had prepared for me. when i think of that hideous death, the idea of my narrow escape sends a shiver through me. when we came to examine the lethal instrument which inflicted it, we found it to be a hollow stiletto with a collapsible handle, this forming a receptacle for the virulent poison with which it was charged. a slight prick, as it must have been in the case of poor szalay, would be enough to cause death, and the venom acted so rapidly that a remedy was out of the question. a very pretty and effective implement of the great chancellor’s vaunted statecraft!
it appeared that the count had taken a room on the same floor, whence it had been easy for him to slip into mine and await my return. but von lindheim’s letter saved me.
there was, of course, an inquiry into the facts of that strange and appalling tragedy. happily for me, all the circumstances confirmed my straightforward story, which was further corroborated by the dead man’s antecedents. it appeared that before he quitted italy several mysterious deaths of the same character as this one had occurred, with which he had seemed closely connected; but nothing beyond strong suspicion had been fastened upon him.
but at last the terribly appropriate retribution had overtaken him; and surely no man had ever greater cause than i to be thankful for the gift of a strong arm and an athletic frame.
[pg 250]
with that night the story of my series of adventures ends. i had certainly had my fill of them, and ever since then my appetite for that sort of thing has been considerably less keen. but apart from the more selfish advantage i derived, the winning of a most charming wife, it has always been a satisfaction to me to reflect that what i did served a useful purpose in ridding the world of a gang of precious villains. i have since visited the monastery of st. tranquillin in the geierthal; it is now the innocent abode of a prosperous farmer, who occasionally entertains stray sportsmen in rather different fashion from his predecessors, and is, happily, ignorant of what lies beneath the ground he plods over, or the dark history of the rooms in which his children play.
after the death of count rallenstein the rule of the jaguar was known no more, and von lindheim, after spending several months with us in england, was able to return to his estate, there to live in peace and safety.
from the subsequent marriage of the poor princess casilde there sprang, as every student of european affairs knows, the consort of one of the most illustrious rulers; but the keenest and most diligent of students has never found the name von orsova in her family tree, and yet that was undoubtedly the princess’s name before her marriage. still, i have made a journey, more than once, to lay a wreath on the grave of the handsome rittmeister von orsova, the man whose fate, though it brought terror and death to others, yet gave supreme happiness to me.
