CHAPTER XV.
HUNSTON AGAIN AT WORK-THE DANCING GARDEN--MARIETTA AND HERGOSSIP-GREAT NEWS--THE ARREST--WHAT CHARGE?--MURDER.
Hunston's infirmity had told in many ways.
He had sunk to be a mere nonentity in the band.
Now he was but too pleased to be left at peace when in his greatsuffering; yet no sooner did he recover health and spirits a littlethan his old interest revived, and with his interest all the oldjealousies.
He bitterly resented Toro's assumption of the command.
"Let the blustering bully fool impose upon them if he will," he said tohimself again and again; "he never could take me in. It shall be mytask to show them who can render the most real service to the band."
Their programme suited Hunston well.
What could better have accorded with his humour than the devotion ofall their time, thought, and energies to the persecution--perhaps tothe entire destruction, of the Harkaway family?
It was all gone on with avowedly to avenge the death of Mathias.
Little cared Hunston about the dead brigand chief.
Indeed, but for the presence of his widow in their midst, and theoccasional mention of his name, Hunston would, in all probability, haveforgotten that he had ever existed.
As it was, he made it his especial task to hang about the parts of thetown where the Harkaways were most likely to be met. And never did heappear twice in the same dress.
One evening, strolling into a dancing garden, he chanced to come upon asmart young lady, whose appearance attracted his attention at once.
"I know her well," he said to himself, "though where I have seen her isa puzzle to me for a moment."
The merry antics of one of the dancers caused her to laugh, and then herecognised the sound of her voice immediately.
"Marietta!"
Surely he should not so soon have forgotten her.
Was it not upon the occasion of her memorable exploits at the gardensof the Contessa Maraviglia that he had last seen her--that night whenpoor Magog Brand met his fate?
As soon as he recognised her, he made up his mind to escort her.
So first (to assure himself of the excellence of his disguise) catchinga cursory glance of his shadow in a mirror, he crossed the garden, andstepping up to her side, he addressed her.
"Do you not join the dance, signorina?" he said.
The waiting maid in reply only cocked her chin haughtily and movedaway.
"You are proud, Marietta, to-night," said Hunston.
She turned upon hearing her name mentioned.
"I do not know you, sir."
"But you see I know you, Marietta, and what is more, if you were to askyour master Mr. Harkaway or Mrs. Harkaway about their friend Saville, Idare say they would not say any thing very bad about him."
Marietta curtseyed in some confusion.
"I don't remember seeing you at the villa, signor," she said, "so prayexcuse me."
"No excuses, pretty Marietta; I am not a very constant visitor, yet Ihave seen you, and yours is a face once seen not easily forgotten."
Marietta, like a true daughter of Eve, did not object to this sort ofthing.
And so she fell into the trap which he set for her with so littlepains.
That is, she grew gossipy and communicative.
"And does Master Jack come here sometimes?" asked the sham Mr. Saville.
She shook her head.
"Never."
"Mamma would object, of course," he said lightly; "this is such awicked place for her good, mild, innocent boy to come to."
Marietta laughed a good deal at hearing young Jack spoken of thus.
"Neither of the young gentlemen are too innocent," she said; "but yetthey don't come here."
"Possibly they have no taste for this sort of thing," suggestedHunston.
Marietta shrugged her shoulders.
"They are forbidden to go about alone."
"Why?"
"I don't know--some fancy of the ladies. They think that the brigandsare always lurking about, ready to drop upon their boys."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hunston; "a very good joke."
"Is it not? Although I must tell you that there is some reason forfear, for I have twice come across the--"
"Across who?"
"The brigands."
"Impossible."
"It is true."
"The miscreants. Did they steal any thing?"
"Well, only a few--a few kisses."
"Hum!" said Hunston, "that was excusable. It is a sort of pilferingwhich I would willingly indulge in myself."
"I dare say," answered Marietta saucily, "but I have discovered how touse my weapons in self-defence."
"What weapons?"
"These."
She held up her ten pretty little claws. A tiny hand they were mountedon, too.
Hunston surveyed it with the eye of a connoisseur, and looked theadmiration he wished to convey quite extravagantly enough for a vainwoman to understand his meaning.
"Exquisite," he said. "It would be flattery even to be scratched bysuch models."
She laughed.
He resumed.
"And so they never go forth for fear of the brigands?"
"Never."
"Their lives must be wretched, so confined to the house."
"Aye, but they go out to sea."
"To sea?"
"Yes, in their sailing boat; the two boys are always out fishing,sailing, and what not."
Hunston pricked up his ears at these tidings.
"Yes, on the water they are allowed full liberty, for brigands andcats, according to Signor Harvey, are the two animals that fear thewater most."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hunston, "very good indeed, but I never knew thatbrigands so feared the water."
"So Signor Harvey says," replied Marietta. "Indeed he says that a barof soap and a bowl of water would frighten a brigand more than a wholearmoury of firearms."
This was true.
Brigands may look picturesque when seen from a distance.
At close quarters they are, to put it mildly, objectionable.
If they do not hold soap and water in absolute fear, as Dick Harveysaid, they at least look upon them as vanities and effeminaciesunworthy of desperadoes.
* * * * *
"So, so," muttered Hunston, as he walked away, "I shall secure themyet. For through the boys I can get at the father and at Harvey. Hah!"
At this precise moment a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder.
There was a professional touch in it, which once felt could never beforgotten.
Hunston had felt such a clutch once in England, and the recollectionwas likely to last him as long as he lived.
He forgot where he was, every thing, and instinctively he faltered thisinquiry--
"On what charge?"
"Murder!"
He knew the voice.
He had no need to look round; the voice was not one easily forgotten.
It was our old friend Pike, the English detective.
"Yes, Hunston," replied the officer coolly. "You have been giving me alot of trouble, but it was only a question of time and patience, Iknew. Come along; you are my prisoner."