hand.
And yet it seemed impossible--utterly impossible--that the safe couldreally have been opened and its contents examined.
"I can't understand Count Dubard's reason for accepting our hospitalityand then acting as a thief during your absence, father," the girlremarked, looking him full in the face. "I've told mother nothing, as Ipreferred to come straight to you. That is why I asked you to call mehere by telegraph."
"Quite right, my dear; quite right," he said. "It would upset yourmother unnecessarily."
"But there is another matter about which I want to talk," she said,after some hesitation; "something that the count has told me inconfidence."
"Oh! What's that?" he asked quickly.
"It concerns yourself, father. He says that there is a deep politicalplot against you--to secure the downfall of the Cabinet and to bringcertain unfounded charges against you personally."
Her father smiled quite calmly.
"That news, my dear, is scarcely fresh," he replied. "For twenty-fiveyears my political enemies have been seeking to oust me from everyoffice I've ever held. Therefore that they should be doing so now isonly natural."
"I know! I know!" she said, with earnest apprehension. "But he saysthat the plot is so formed that its result will reflect upon youpersonally," and then she went on to describe exactly what Dubard hadtold her.
His Excellency, nervously toying with the quill, listened, and as he didso reflected upon what Ricci had already told him.
How was it, he wondered, that the Frenchman, who was outside the innerring of Italian politics, knew all this? He must have some secretsource of knowledge. That was plain.
Morini looked into his daughter's great brown eyes, and read the deepanxiety there. Within his own heart he was full of apprehension for thefuture lest the Socialists might defeat the Government; yet, with thetact of the old political hand, he betrayed no concern before her. Whatshe told him, however, revealed certain things that he had not hithertosuspected, and rendered the outlook far blacker than he had beforeregarded it.
"The count has also told me that there is a charge of treason againstCaptain Solaro."
Instantly her father's face changed.
"Well?" he snapped.
"The captain is innocent," she declared. "He must be. He would neverbetray the military secrets of his country."
"That is a matter which does not concern you, Mary," he exclaimedquickly. "He has been tried by court-martial and been dismissed thearmy."
"But you surely will not allow an innocent man to suffer, father!" sheurged in a voice of quick reproach.
"It is not a matter that concerns either of us, my dear," he answered ina hard tone. "He has been found guilty--that is sufficient."
She was silent, for suddenly she recollected what the count had said,namely, that any effort on her part to prove poor Solaro's innocencemust reflect upon her father, whose enemies would use the fact to provethat Italy had been betrayed with the connivance of the Minister of War.
She sighed. She had suspicions--grave ones; but she knew that at leastFelice Solaro had been made the scapegoat of some cunning plot, and thathis sentence was unjust. Yet what could she do in such circumstances?She was powerless. She could only remain patient and wait--wait,perhaps, for the final blow to fall upon her father and her house! Asilence fell, broken only by the low ticking of the marble clock and themeasured tramp of the sentry down in the sun-baked courtyard.
Her father sighed, rose from his chair, and with his hands behind hisback paced anxiously up and down the room.
"Mary!" he exclaimed suddenly, in a changed voice, hoarsely in earnest,"if the secrets hidden in that safe have actually fallen into the handsof my enemies, then I must resign from office?" His face was nowblanched to the lips, for all his self-possession seemed to havedeserted him in an instant as the ghastly truth became revealed. "Iknow--I know too well--how cleverly the conspiracy has been formed, butI never dreamed that that safe could be opened, and the truth known.No," he said in a low voice of despair, his chin sunk upon his breast;"it would be better to resign, and fly from Italy."
His daughter looked at him in silence and surprise. She had never seenhim plunged in such despair. A bond of sympathy had always existedbetween father and daughter ever since her infancy.
"Then you dare not face your enemies if they are actually in possessionof what is contained in the safe?" she said slowly, rising and placingher hand tenderly upon her father's shoulder. She realised for thefirst time that her father, the man whom she had trusted so implicitlysince her childhood, held some guilty secret.
"No, my dear, I dare not," was his reply, placing his trembling handupon her arm.
"But you are unaware of how much knowledge Count Dubard has obtained,"she pointed out.
"Sufficient in any case to cause my ruin," replied the grey-hairedMinister of War. "That is, of course, if he is not after all myfriend."
"But he is your friend, father," she was compelled to exclaim, in orderto give him courage, for she had never in her life seen him so overcome.
"Those midnight investigations are, as you have said, a curious way ofdemonstrating friendship," he remarked blankly. "No," he added in adry, hard tone. "To-day is the beginning of the end. These are my lastdays of office, Mary. The vote may be taken in the Chamber any day, andthen--" and his eyes wandered involuntarily to that drawer in hiswriting-table wherein reposed his revolver, which, alas! more than onceof late he had handled so fondly.
"And after that--what?" his daughter asked anxiously.
But only a deep sigh ran through the lofty room, and then she realisedthat her father's kindly eyes were filled with tears.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE SAZARAC AFFAIR.
The great gilded ballroom of the French Embassy in Rome was thronged bya brilliant crowd, even though it was out of the season and the majorityof the official and diplomatic world were still absent from the EternalCity, in the mountains or at the baths.
The bright uniforms, the glittering stars and coloured ribbons worn bythe men, and the magnificent toilettes of the women, combined to form aperfect phantasmagoria of colour beneath the huge crystal electroliers.
The orchestra was playing a waltz, and many of the guests were dancing;for the floor at the Farnese Palace was the best in Rome. CamilloMorini, though in no mood for gaiety and obliged to attend, waswandering aimlessly through the rooms, exchanging salutes with the menhe knew and now and then bowing low over a woman's hand. In hisbrilliant uniform as Minister of War, with the cerise and white ribbonof the Order of the Crown of Italy and a number of minor decorations, hepresented a strikingly handsome figure, tall, erect, anddistinguished-looking, as he strode through the huge painted salonsdazzling with their heavy gilt mirrors and giant palms, a man of powerin that complex nation, modern Italy.
After Mary had sought him and revealed the amazing fact of Dubard'ssecret investigations, she had gone on home to the palace with her maidTeresa, where he had joined her about six o'clock.
Father and daughter had dined alone in the long, high, old frescoedroom. Few words they exchanged, for both felt that a crisis wasimminent, and that if the blow fell the catastrophe must be overwhelmingand complete. A true bond of deepest sympathy had always existedbetween them, for, as an only child, he had lavished upon her all hisaffection, while she, in turn, regarded him with a strong affectionunusual in these decadent days. More than once since she had returnedfrom the Broadstairs school she had been his assistant and adviser inthe hours when she had found him alone and agitated as he so often was.More than once, indeed, he had confided in her, telling her of affairswhich he withheld even from his wife for fear of unduly disturbing herin her delicate state of health. Often he had, of his own accord,sought his daughter's counsel. Hence she was in possession of manyconfidential facts concerning persons and politics in Rome, and with herwoman's keen perception had already in consequence become a traineddiplomat.
In the long and p
ainful silence during dinner he urged her to accompanyhim to the French Ambassador's reception, adding with a sigh, "I wouldrather remain at home with you, my dear; but I must go. It will not dofor me to betray any sign of fear."
"Go, certainly. It is your duty, father. But I am really too tiredafter my journey."
And so she excused herself from accompanying him, and went off early toher room.
His Excellency had been chatting with the Prince Demidoff, the RussianAmbassador, and was passing into the great ballroom, where the gaietywas then at its height, when he came face to face with Angelo Borselli,gorgeous in his brilliant general's uniform.
"Ah, my dear Camillo!" exclaimed the latter. "I only returned