to adopt this course, hereflected, yet he knew Jules too well as a man in whose heart there didnot exist a single spark of either respect or true affection for theopposite sex.
"Come," exclaimed the elegant Frenchman, with a look of determination onhis pallid countenance. "Write the note quickly, or it will be toolate. Recollect, if Montebruno speaks, I shall tell the truth."
"And betray me?"
"Of necessity."
Then Angelo Borselli, seeing that all his elaborate preparations for a_coup_ were checkmated by the very man who had rendered him suchvaluable help, threw himself into a chair, and muttering some hardwords, scribbled three lines to the man, his puppet, who was to hurlthose terrible charges against the Minister of War.
"Good," exclaimed Dubard airily, as he took the letter and thrust itinto his pocket. "You have done well to save your own reputation, mydear Angelo. It would not be wise for the public to know everything,would it? Excuse me running away so quickly, but I have only just timeto drive down to the Camera." And snatching up his hat he rushed out,leaving the Under-Secretary standing in the centre of the room, silentin disappointment and chagrin.
Meanwhile, in the Chamber the excitement among the Socialist group hadgradually increased as the hands of the big clock moved on towards thehour of five. They watched Montebruno seated in his place armed withmany formidable documents, and saw how he was preparing himself for oneof those oratorical efforts for which he was so famous. He was a thin,black-bearded man with small dark eyes and aquiline features--a man whohad made the law a stepping-stone to politics like so many of his_confreres_. Time after time he fidgeted, changed his position, strokedhis beard thoughtfully, and re-examined his papers, every action beingwatched anxiously by his party, among whom it was whispered that he wasto put some sensational question--but of what character was to them amystery.
The hand of the big clock pointed to the hour of five, and the Chamberwas occupied with other business. Vito Ricci, sitting in his placealmost opposite Montebruno in the great horseshoe chamber, waitedbreathlessly, well knowing that the words which would fall from his lipswould seal the doom of that man waiting so patiently in his library inthe far-off Apennines.
The tension of those moments of expectancy was terrible.
The clock marked five, ten, fifteen minutes past the hour, when, of asudden, the voluble Socialist rose, and began by expressing regret atbeing compelled to take up the time of the Chamber upon a most importantand very pressing matter. He had just arrived at that point, holdingthe whole Camera in attention by his clever oratory, when a prominentmember of his own party pulled his coat-tails and handed him a letter.This he tore open mechanically while still speaking, but on glancing atthe contents, he hesitated and stopped short in utter confusion.
"Go on! Go on!" urged his party wildly, eager to hear what allegationshe was about to make against the Government.
But regaining his self-possession in a moment, he turned to them, andwith a smile said--
"Gentlemen, I have just learned, and very fortunately perhaps, that Ihave been somewhat misinformed regarding certain matters to which Iintended directing the attention of the Camera, and therefore I will nolonger occupy your time."
And he sat down abruptly, whereat those in opposition jeered at him, andeven the Socialists themselves rose and went out in disgust,disappointed at relinquishing what was promised to be a staggering blowagainst the Government. With them went Vito Ricci, who, ten minuteslater, was in the Ministry of War describing the curious scene toCamillo Morini over the telephone.
The words he spoke put fresh life and hope into the despairing Minister.He breathed again when he heard how he had been saved almost by amiracle. Then he walked to his table, and the letters he had written hecarried to the fireplace and there lit them with a wax vesta and watchedthem consume--all save the order for Solaro's release and reinstatement.
He held the latter in his hand for a long time thinking deeply. But atlast the temptation grew too strong within him, for slowly, and withseeming reluctance, he opened it, applied a match, destroying it as hehad done the others, and as he watched it burn to black tinder hemurmured to himself--
"No! I dare not release him. If I did they might suspect--suspect.And yet Mary declares that he is innocent! What, I wonder, can sheknow?"
New life had been created within him, new hope, new aspirations. Amoment before he had looked upon that tiny tube with its fatal tabloidsas the only means by which he could escape his enemies, but now helaughed to himself as he placed it in a drawer of the writing-table--laughed at his own cowardice.
He never dreamed that he had been saved by Mary's self-sacrifice. Theincident, as related by Ricci over the telephone, was curious andmysterious. The letter handed to the man who had risen to denounce himhad evidently contained something which prevented him making thecharges, but what it was he could not imagine.
To him the whole affair was a complete mystery, which he left to VitoRicci to unravel and report.
When his wife and the girls returned, they found him idling on theterrace beneath the pretty arbour from which spread that glorious viewof the Arno valley up to Florence. He was a changed man from an hourbefore--that hour when he had come face to face with ruin and death. Bythe mysterious turn which events had taken a new life had suddenlyopened to him. The blow they intended to aim at him had apparently beenabandoned, even though all preparations had been made. The reason wasan utter enigma.
He laughed merrily with Mary and the English girls as they came alongthe terrace where he was sitting idly smoking a cigar, inquiring wherethey had been and how they had found the lady they had visited.
All three began to chatter, as was their wont, while Her Excellency,fatigued after the drive, entered the house to rest before dinner. She,however, did not fail to notice her husband's unusual good-humour, forof late he had been thoughtful and depressed, silent and moody when inher presence, and apparently full of serious state affairs.
The instant Mary saw her father's countenance she read the truth. Shehad left the villa well knowing--through Dubard, who had sent her wordin secret--that the blow was to be dealt that afternoon. She knew allthat her father was suffering, and she feared the worst, even though shehad made that compact with the man she suspected and despised. She haddreaded to return lest some hideous tragedy should have occurred, andall the time she was absent she had reproached herself that she had notremained at his side to support and encourage him in face of thethreatened peril.
But the danger was over. He had no doubt received word over thetelephone, for he was his own old self again, and began chaffing VioletWalters, the blue-eyed daughter of the London barrister, regarding ayoung lieutenant of the _bersaglieri_, an aristocrat of Florence, whohad dined with them on the previous evening, and towards whom she hadbeen very much attracted.
"It is really too bad!" declared the English girl, blushing to her eyes."You declare that I'm in love with every good-looking man, and I'm sureI'm not."
"We Italians always find English girls very charming," His Excellencysaid, smiling. "That is why I married an Englishwoman myself," whereatthe two Fry girls, pale-faced and insipid, tittered to themselves.
"Really it was most disgraceful of Violet to flirt with young Capponi asshe did last night!" exclaimed Mary mischievously, upholding herfather's view.
"I did not!" protested the barrister's daughter. "You know I didn't,Mary!"
"He'll be proposing next Monday when he comes again to dinner, andyou'll be the Marchesa Capponi," Mary said, spreading out her skirts andbowing with mock obeisance.
Her father, full of good-humour now that the terror of those anxioushours had passed, rose, and placing his hand kindly on Violet'sshoulder, assured her that his words were not meant to be takenseriously; for he saw the girl's indignation was rising, and that sheresented being accused of flirtation before the two daughters of theGenoese merchant.
They all gossiped together for some time, until presently Mary we
ntforth, as usual, to accompany her father on his evening stroll throughthe pine woods.
When alone, His Excellency was the first to speak, explaining to her allthat Vito Ricci had related over the telephone.
"Then the crisis is prevented," she remarked, in a strange, mechanicalvoice, he thought. He had expected her to betray surprise and joy, but,on the contrary, she received the information of his escape with aninertness which surprised him. "It must have been the letter handed tothe Socialist deputy," she added.
"Without doubt," he remarked. "But how annoyed and disappointed Angelomust be at the failure of his scheme just at the very moment when histriumph was assured."
"I expect so," his daughter said, walking slowly at his side, her eyesfixed upon the ground. Her father had been saved at the cost of her ownhappiness, her own