It was Count Roseveldt who caused the change of programme, of which an
explanation is needed.
Shortly before, the Count, forming one of the circle around Kossuth, had
slipped quietly away from it--sent forth by Kossuth himself to
reconnoitre the ground.
His knowledge of London life--for he had long lived there--caused him to
be thus chosen.
The object was to discover how the spies were placed.
The dark night favoured him; and knowing that the spies themselves loved
darkness, he sauntered toward a spot where he supposed they might be
found.
He had not been long in it, when voices in conversation admonished him
that men were near. He saw two of them.
They were approaching the place where he stood.
A garden gate, flanked by a pair of massive piers, formed a niche, dark
as the portals of Pluto.
Into this the Count retreated; drawing himself into the smallest
dimensions of which his carcase was capable.
A fog, almost palpable to the feel, assisted in screening him.
The two men came along; and, as good luck would have it, stopped nearly
in front of the gate.
They were still talking, and continued to talk, loud enough for
Roseveldt to hear them.
He did not know who they were; but their conversation soon told him.
They were the spies who occupied the house opposite Kossuth--the very
individuals he had sallied forth in search of.
The obscurity of the night hindered him from having a view of their
faces. He could only make out two figures, indistinctly traceable
through the filmy envelope of the fog.
But it mattered not. He had never seen these spies, and was, therefore,
unacquainted with their personal appearance. Enough to hear what they
were saying.
And he heard sufficient for his purpose--sufficient to keep him silent
till they were gone; and then bring him back with an excited air into
the circle from which he had late parted.
He burst into the room with a speech that caused astonishment--almost
consternation!
"You must not go, Governor?" were the words that proceeded from his
lips.
"Why?" asked Kossuth, in surprise, the question echoed by all.
"_Mein Gott_!" responded the Austrian. "I've learnt a strange tale
since I left you."
"What tale?"
"A tale about this rising in Milan. Is there on the earth a man so
infamous as to believe it?"
"Explain yourself, Count!"
It was the appeal of all present.
"Have patience, gentlemen! You'll need it all, after hearing me."
"Go on!"
"I found there _forbans_, as we expected. Two of them were in the
street, talking. I had concealed myself in the shadow of a gateway;
opposite which the scoundrels shortly after came to a stand. They did
not see me; but I saw them, and, what's better, heard them. And what do
you suppose I heard? _Peste_! you won't one of you believe it!"
"Tell us, and try!"
"That the rising in Milan is a sham--a decoy to entrap the noble
Governor here, and others of us into the toils of Austria. It has been
got up for no other purpose--so said one of these spies to the other,
giving the source whence he had his information."
"Who?"
"His employer, Lord --."
Kossuth started. So did his companions; for the information, though
strange to them, was not by any means incredible.
"Yes?" continued Roseveldt; "there can be no doubt of what I tell you.
The spy who communicated it to his fellow gave facts and dates, which he
must have derived from a certain source; and for my own part I was
already under the belief that the thing looked like it. I know the
strength of those Bohemian regiments. Besides there are the Tyrolese
sharpshooters--true body-guards of a tyrant. There could have been no
chance for us, whatever Guiseppe Mazzini may think of it. It's
certainly intended for a trap; and we must not fall into it. You will
not go, Governor?"
Kossuth looked around the circle, and then more particularly at Maynard.
"Do not consult me," said the soldier-author. "I am still ready to take
you."
"And you are quite sure you heard this?" asked the ex-Governor, once
more turning to Roseveldt.
"Sure, your Excellency. I've heard it plain as words could speak. They
are yet buzzing in my ears, as if they would burn them?"
"What do you say, gentlemen?" asked Kossuth, scrutinising the
countenances of those around him. "Are we to believe in an infamy so
atrocious?"
Before reply could be made, a ring at the gate-bell interrupted their
deliberations.
The door opened, admitting a man who came directly into the room where
the revolutionists were assembled.
All knew him as Colonel Ihasz, the friend and adjutant of Kossuth.
Without saying a word, he placed a slip of paper in the ex-Governor's
hands.
All could see it was the transcript of a telegraphic message.
It was in a cipher; of which Kossuth alone had the key.
In sad tone, and with trembling voice, he translated it to a circle sad
as himself:
"_The rising has proved only an `emeute.' There has been treachery
behind it. The Hungarian regiments were this morning disarmed. Scores
of the poor fellows are being shot. Afazzini, myself, and others, are
likely to share the same fate, unless some miraculous chance turns up in
our favour. We are surrounded on all sides; and am scant escape. For
deliverance must trust to the God of liberty_.
"Turr."
Kossuth staggered to a seat. He seemed as though he would have fallen
on the floor!
"I too invoke the God of Liberty!" he cried, once more starting to his
feet, after having a little recovered himself. "Can He permit such men
as these to be sacrificed on the altar of Despotism?--Mazzini, and still
more, chivalrous Turr--the bravest, the best, the handsomest of my
officers?"
No man, who ever saw General Turr, would care to question the eulogy
thus bestowed upon him. And his deeds done since speak its
justification.
The report of Roseveldt had but foreshadowed the terrible disaster,
confirmed by the telegraphic despatch.
The Count had spoken in good time. But for the delay occasioned by his
discovery, Kossuth and Captain Maynard would have been on their way to
Dover; too late to be warned--too late to be saved from passing their
next night as guests of Louis Napoleon--_in one of his prisons_!