Upon a heap of dirty, mouldy straw, lay a woman. Her dress was ragged
and faded, but she was very beautiful, with light golden hair, and a
face that betokened culture and refinement. Around her neck was a
curious band of a blood-red colour. Upon her countenance was a ghastly
pallor, the lips were bloodless, the jaw had dropped, the eyes were
fixed and had a stony, horror-stricken look in them, for she was a
corpse!
"You are satisfied that we are brigands?" he asked. "Good! Now I will
show you that we are contrabandists."
Ascending the steps, we went to another part of the great cave, where he
showed me kegs of cognac and wine, boxes of cigars, silks, and an
assortment of dutiable merchandise.
When we returned to where the other men were sitting, one of them, the
elder of the party, who spoke with authority, addressed me.
"Well," he said, "you have seen our stronghold, and recognise the
impossibility of any one escaping from here, eh?"
"Yes," I replied; "but I cannot conceive why I have been allured here.
I am a poor man, and not worth robbing."
"That is not our intention, signore," the contrabandist answered, with
mock politeness, as he puffed a cloud of smoke from his rank cigar.
"True, you have been entrapped, but if you consent to perform for us a
small secret service, you are at liberty to depart; and, moreover, our
good Giovanni will complete his contract, and see you safely to
Lanslebourg."
"What is the service?" I asked.
"It is not at all difficult, and you will run no risk," he replied. He
took from an ancient oak coffer a small sealed packet, and added, "We
desire this taken to Briancon; will you undertake to do so?"
"What am I to do with it?" I asked.
"The thing is simple enough. You will leave here and go to Lanslebourg,
thence to Briancon. Arrived there, you will remain at the Couronne
d'Or, and wear this peace of edelweiss in your coat. On the day after
to-morrow, a lady will call upon you and ask for the packet, as
promised. She will give her name as Madame Trois Etoiles, and will give
you a receipt for the packet. This you will send to Giovanni Oldrini at
the Poste Restante at Bardonnechia. There the matter will end."
"If she does not call?"
"Then you must advertise to find her, announcing that you particularly
desire an interview. Of course your undertaking will be binding, and
you will preserve the secret of the existence of this place under
penalty of death. Do you agree?"
I glanced round the weird cavern. The last straw of my self-possession
was broken, and I was prepared to promise anything in order to escape.
"Agree, signore," urged Giovanni anxiously. "There will be no risk, no
inconvenience, I assure you."
"Very well," I said at last; "if you stipulate this as the price of my
ransom, I suppose I am compelled to submit."
"You will swear to preserve our secret; to tell no living soul where you
obtained the packet, and to deliver it without fail and with the seals
intact?" the elder man asked, handing me a carved ivory crucifix.
"Yes, I swear," I said, taking it and pressing it to my lips.
"Good!" he exclaimed; "here is the packet. Deliver it safely, for its
contents, if lost, could never be replaced. Join us in another glass,
and then proceed. Oldrini will go with you to the outskirts of
Lanslebourg."
I emptied another glass of brandy with the smugglers, and a few minutes
later saw the sunlight and breathed the fresh mountain air again. When
we were well on our downward path, I felt inclined to reprimand my guide
for having taken me to the cavern; but on reflection it became plain
that he was in league with the contrabandists, and that he carried on
smuggling and thieving in the guise of guide.
Onward we trudged down the steep, slippery rocks, scarcely uttering a
word for an hour, when suddenly from a sentry-box there appeared a
French soldier with rifle presented.
He inquired our names, and why we wished to enter France. A civil reply
propitiated him, and he drew himself up at "Attention!" and allowed us
to proceed.
We were compelled by the steepness of the mountain to take a circuitous
route, so that the descent occupied longer than we had anticipated, and
when, soon after sunset, we emerged upon the high road to Lanslebourg,
he halted to take leave of me.
"Pardon, signore," exclaimed my guide. "I only took you to the cavern
because it is imperative that the packet should be delivered. I ask
your forgiveness;" and he raised his cap deferentially.
"For what reason is it imperative?" I inquired.
"I regret I cannot tell you," he replied. "_Addio_, signore. Remember
your trust, and keep your promise, or--"
He did not finish the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders
significantly, and, handing me my valise, turned and left me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two days later, I was sitting idly smoking at a little table outside the
Couronne d'Or inn at Briancon, that curious little town inside the great
fortress that commands the pass of Mont Genevre. The Alps were purple
in the glorious sunset. The sun had long ago been hidden by the
mountains behind, on whose tops the ice and snow glistened. Then, as
the calm twilight came on, a pale, rosy light suffused the eastern sky,
the moon rose, the aspens shook, the outlines of the valley shaded off
into darkness and uncertainty, and the last glow sank into the deepening
blue.
Having telegraphed to my friends, arranging to meet them at Grenoble on
the morrow, I sat silent, thoughtful, and expectant.
Suddenly a musical voice behind exclaimed in English.
"The signore wears the edelweiss, I observe."
"Yes," I replied, turning and confronting a tall, handsome, middle-aged
lady, attired in deep black. She was evidently of the upper class, and
spoke English with an accent scarcely perceptible. A fact which struck
me as very remarkable was that around her neck she wore a band of
blood-red silk exactly the same as that upon the corpse in the brigand's
cave! What could it denote?
"I presume I am not mistaken in addressing you. I am Madame Trois
Etoiles."
"I have been expecting you," I said.
"You have been commissioned to deliver something to me, have you not?"
she asked, seating herself in the chair on the opposite side of the
table.
"Yes. I must confess, however, that my mission is a somewhat mysterious
one." And I drew the packet from my pocket.
"Mine is also mysterious," she laughed nervously. "But tell me, who
gave it to you?"
"Unfortunately, I must not tell, madame; I am sworn to secrecy," I
replied. Then I asked, "Why is it imperative that the packet should be
conveyed to you in this manner?"
"Ah, signore, I am as ignorant as yourself. Besides, I also have taken
an oath. It was a stipulation that I should explain nothing. I was to
meet you here and receive the packet--to act as messenger, in fact.
That is all."
"Then we cannot exchange confidences," I said disappointedly.
She shook her head.
"Very well; there is the mysterious packet;" and I handed it to her.
Then I tore a leaf from my pocket-book, and, together with a pencil,
handed it to my strange visitor, who wrote in Italian the words,
"Received of Signore the Englishman, the packet with seals intact.--
Madame * * *"
Passing the paper back to me, she drew on the glove she had removed,
and, rising, wished me a haughty adieu, remarking that she was obliged
to leave for Modane by the diligence which would start almost
immediately from the Hotel de Ville.
I raised my hat, and after a graceful bow she turned, and, walking away
along the quiet, old-world street, was soon lost in the gathering gloom.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
One evening, quite recently, I was sitting in the Trattoria di Piazza
San Carlo, that great, gilded restaurant that overlooks the handsome
square in the centre of Turin. Major Malaspina, of the National Guard,
was with me, and we were chatting over our coffee and cigars. Giulio
Malaspina is an old friend whom I first met ten years ago, when, in the
performance of my journalistic duties, I visited the cholera hospitals
of Naples with King Humbert and Queen Margherita. Mainly through him,
various facilities were afforded me for visiting the hospitals and
passing the military _cordon_ as often as I pleased, hence our
acquaintance ripened into warm and lasting friendship. Short and
thick-set, with closely-cropped, iron-grey hair, and a fierce, bristly
moustache, he is a merry little man, and at the present time the most
popular officer of the Turin garrison.
He was glancing through the _Tribuna_, which the waiter had just
brought, while I sat lazily contemplating the groups of diners through a
veil of tobacco smoke.
"Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, removing the cigar from his lips and
looking up from the paper. "I see they've captured a band of robbers in
the Carpathians. It is really remarkable that brigands should exist in
Europe in these highly civilised days."
"Are there any in the Alps?" I asked, half inclined to relate my
extraordinary experience, but suddenly remembering that I had bound
myself to secrecy.
"There were, but there are none now. I assisted in clearing out the
last band. They were clever, daring scoundrels, who exhibited much
remarkable ingenuity. The discovery of the gang caused a good deal of
sensation about two years ago. But of course you were in England at
that time; possibly you heard nothing about it?"
"No; tell me," I said anxiously. "I'm always interested in stories of
brigands."
"Plots for novels, eh?" he said, laughing merrily, contemplating the
fine diamond that glittered on his finger. "Well," he began, "for a
long time it had been known that a number of contrabandists were
smuggling goods from France over the almost impassable summit of Mont
Cenis."
"They were Piedmontese brigands, then?" I exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes. Travellers had been robbed, diligences on the Modane road had
been stopped, baggage rifled, and various depredations were being
constantly reported. It was evident that they were in league with some
receivers of stolen property at Milan, but the ingenious manner in which
they disposed of their booty baffled all efforts to discover the
identity of the thieves. Probably they would have continued their
nefarious operations unmolested until the present time, had they not
committed a most daring robbery, which very nearly culminated in a
public scandal. _Per Bacco_! there is more comedy than tragedy in the
story. You must be discreet if I relate it to you, for it is not
generally known, and if it got about, a good deal of displeasure might
be created at the Ministry at Rome."
And, amused at his own thoughts, he laughed heartily.
"It happened about three years ago," he continued, "that the King, while
inspecting the crown jewels, discovered that the small jewelled cross
which surmounts the great historic diamond of enormous value that forms
the apex of the royal crown was loose, and, moreover, the great gem
itself required resetting. After much consideration, it was at length
resolved to entrust the work to a renowned jeweller in Paris, and the
portion of the insignia was dispatched thither by royal messenger. The
latter, it appears, took train by way of Turin and the Mont Cenis
tunnel, but on arrival at the Alpine frontier, found that some repairs
were being carried out in the tunnel, which necessitated it being closed
to all traffic for several days. He was unable to walk through, because
there had been a landslip. That the crown should be renovated without
delay was imperative, as it was required for an important State
ceremonial, therefore the messenger resolved to go by mule over the
mountain to Modane. On the way, however, he and his guide were
attacked, and the contrabandists carried away, among other things, the
precious packet containing the most valuable portion of the regal
crown!"
The major's eyes twinkled merrily, and he laughed immoderately.
Suddenly, noticing my grave, anxious expression, he said--
"Ah, of course you are interested! _Dio mio_! it was a huge joke. You
desire to hear the _denouement_? Well, you may easily imagine His
Majesty's wrath when the matter was reported to him; but the gravity of
the situation lay in the fact that any hue and cry raised would create a
public scandal, and in all probability cause the thieves to destroy the
jewels. Had the newspapers got wind of the theft, the whole of Europe
would be laughing at Italy's ludicrous discomfiture. For several weeks
the frontier guards kept a sharp look-out on the mountains, but no
traces of the thieves could be discovered, therefore at Rome a good deal
of anxiety began to be felt. At length, however, the King himself
received a letter from the scoundrels, stating that they had discovered
the nature of their booty, and as loyal subjects of His Majesty, and
upholders of the dignity of the kingdom, they desired to return the
portion of the crown. They stipulated, however, that the packet
containing the jewels would only be given up to the Countess di Palermo,
one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, and that if she called on a
certain evening at an inn at Briancon, the packet would be duly
delivered to her. Cool, audacious impudence, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I said; "but how ineffably loyal they were!"
"Most extraordinary rascals! Of course the King gave a pledge that no
attempt would be made to trace whence the jewels came, and that the
Countess alone would keep the appointment. She did so; and, remarkable
to relate, the packet was handed to her by some wayfaring Englishman,
whose name never transpired. In that manner the most valuable of the
crown jewels was recovered, greatly to the satisfaction of His Majesty,
the Council of Ministers, and all who were in the secret."
Malaspina puffed vigorously at his cigar for a few seconds, and then
continued--
"The recklessness of the outlaws was amazing. Robbery and extortion
became more frequent, and thefts were committed with as cool
determination as if the scoundrels held special licence from the King.
At length the Minister of Police decided that such a state of things
should no longer be allowed to continue. Hence it was that I found
myself at the head of a company of Bersaglieri, scouring the mountains
from Mont Blanc to Mont Rosa. After much fruitless search, we
discovered that the stronghold of the bandits was a remarkable cave
almost on the summit of the Cenis, at a point accessible only by a
secret by-path. Having carefully laid our plans, we advanced to the
attack early one morning. Unfortunately, the mountain afforded no
cover, therefore our presence must have been immediately detected.
Eventually, however, we battered down the door of their hiding-place,
and entered. To our surprise, we found the cavern was an enormous one,
and it took us a considerable time to explore its recesses. In the
meantime, the occupants, whoever they were, must have escaped by another
exit, for we never saw them, and they have not been apprehended to this
day. In the cavern I found quantities of contraband goods stored, and
every evidence of extensive smuggling. One discovery I made was indeed
horrible, yet on closer investigation it proved as grimly humorous as
the other incidents. Into a lower chamber I had descended with a light,
and found, to my amazement, the body of a beautiful woman, who had
evidently been kept a prisoner, and had died under harsh treatment.
Apparently she had expired quite recently, for there were no signs of
decomposition. At first I felt inclined to retreat, but the expression
in the wide-open, staring eyes attracted my attention, and I bent and
touched the face. It was clammy and cold, but quite hard. A portion of
it came off in my hand. _Dio_! I had been deceived--it was of wax!"
"Wax?" I cried, astonished.
"Yes. Inquiries I subsequently made showed that a travelling waxwork
show on its way across the frontier had been attacked a couple of years
before, and among other things stolen was this wax figure. With cunning
ingenuity, the contrabandists had contrived to transform the ruddy
visage of a wax `Desdemona' into the pallid countenance of a corpse,
which they placed upon a heap of filthy straw in the damp, dark lower
chamber. Around its neck, for some reason unaccountable, they had
placed a scarlet band, similar to that always worn by the Countess di
Palermo to conceal a cicatrice. The object, I suppose, was to show the
corpse to travellers, whom they entrapped in order to extort money from
them by threatening to keep them in the Dantean dungeon, and starving
them to death."
"A most ingenious device," I said in abject astonishment. "The cave is
now deserted, I suppose?"
"The cave? _Pouf_!" and he raised both his hands with a movement
indicative of an explosion. "Acting under orders from Rome, a party of
engineers blew it up with dynamite. As regards the thieves, no one
knows what became of them. It must be admitted, however, that they had
one redeeming characteristic--that of loyalty to their exemplary
sovereign!"
And Major Malaspina laughed, sipped his vermouth, and lapsed into the
full enjoyment of his long cigar.