At noon next day Count Castellani, the Italian Ambassador to the Court
of St James, stood at the window of his private room gazing out upon
cabs and carriages passing and repassing around Grosvenor Square.
In his hand was a secret and highly important despatch which had only
ten minutes before arrived from Rome by special messenger. His brows
were knit, and he was pondering deeply over it. He stroked his grey
beard and sighed, murmuring to himself--
"Extraordinary! Most extraordinary! If I had suspected such a
complication as this, I should have never accepted this Embassy. True,
this is the highest office in our diplomatic service--an office which I
have coveted ever since I was a young attache at Brussels. And now that
I have fame in my own country, and honour among these English, I am
unable to enjoy it. Ah! the fruits of life are always bitter--always!"
Then he drew another heavy sigh, and remained silent, gazing moodily
out, his dark eyes fixed blankly upon the handsome square. No sound
reached that well-furnished room with its double windows and hangings of
dark-red velvet, the chamber in which the greatest of English statesmen
had often sat discussing the future of the European situation and the
probabilities of war; the room in which on one memorable day a defensive
alliance had been arranged between Italy and England, the culminating
master-stroke of diplomacy which had obviated a great and disastrous
European war. And it was the tall, handsome, grey-bearded man, at that
moment standing at his window plunged in melancholy, who had thus
successfully saved his own country, Italy, by concluding the treaty
whereby the fine Italian Navy would, in the event of war, unite with the
British fleet against all enemies--the alliance whereby England would be
strengthened against all the machinations of the Powers, and bankrupt
Italy would still preserve her dignity among nations. It had been a
truly clever piece of diplomacy. By careful observation and cunning
ingenuity, Count Castellani had obtained knowledge of the projected
action of France, of Germany, and of Russia, while the British Foreign
Office had remained in utter ignorance. Then one day he had invited
Lord Felixtowe, His Majesty's principal Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs, and in that room he had plainly told the story of the
conspiracy in progress against England. The Foreign Minister was so
surprised that at first he could not credit that the Powers implicated
could have the audacity to contemplate the invasion of our island; but
when His Excellency brought forward certain undeniable proofs, he was
compelled to admit the truth of his assertion.
Then, without a moment's hesitation, the subject of a defensive alliance
was mooted. United with the magnificent vessels of the Italian Navy,
the battleships of Britain could hold the seas against all comers.
There was no time to be lost, for Russian diplomacy was shrewdly at work
in Rome with the object of contracting an alliance between the
Government of the Czar and that of King Humbert. Therefore, without
consulting the Cabinet, Lord Felixtowe had accepted the Ambassador's
proposals, and within twenty-four hours a treaty was signed, which has
ever since been Europe's safeguard against war. It was a short
document, its draft only covering half a sheet of foolscap; but it was a
bond between two friendly nations, which, it is to be hoped, will never
be severed.
Yet the life of an Ambassador is by no means enviable. Even when
promoted to the first rank, he obtains but little thanks from his chief,
and less from his own compatriots at home. In this instance, Count
Castellani, through whose ingenuity and far-sightedness England, and
perhaps the whole of Europe, had been saved from an encounter of so
fierce, sanguinary, and frightful a nature as the world has never yet
witnessed, obtained not a word of thanks from the Italian people.
Indeed, beyond a private autograph note from his sovereign and a long
and formal despatch from the Marquis Montelupo, his master-stroke had
passed by unnoticed and unknown save to those who had for years been
plotting the down fall of the British Empire. The result was that in
this, as in nearly every case where clever diplomacy is needed, the
result of the negotiations remained hidden from the public. In this
case, as in so many others, the alliance was entirely secret, and only
after some months was its existence allowed to leak out, and only then
in order that the enemies of England should hesitate before embarking
upon any desperate step.
Sometimes, in his fits of melancholy, Count Castellani, like all other
men, could not help feeling discontented. He was but human. When he
reflected upon the glory which the German and French Ambassadors were
accorded in their own countries each time they carried through some
paltry, unimportant little piece of diplomacy, his heart grew weary
within him. It was in this mood, unhappy and discontented, that he
stood at the window with the secret despatch in his white, nervous hand.
What he had read there brought back to him a recollection of days
bygone--a recollection that was painful and bitter now that he had risen
to be chief of the service in which he had spent the greater part of his
life.
Yet it held him stupefied.
Again he sighed. His daughter Carmenilla, a slim, dark-haired girl of
twenty, entered softly and, seeing her father silent and pensive, moved
noiselessly across the room. He was wifeless, and all his love was
bestowed upon his daughter, who held her father in absolute reverence.
Carmenilla was not beautiful, but she was her father's companion,
helpmate, and friend. She stood behind him, and heard him exclaim, in a
low voice only just audible--
"If what I suspect is true, then the secret is out. I must obtain leave
of absence and go to Rome. Perhaps even now my letters of recall are on
their way! Nevertheless, it is too strange to believe. No; at present
I must wait. I can't--I won't believe it!"
At that moment there was a tap at the door, and as Carmenilla slipped
out noiselessly, the liveried Italian servant announced that Dr Malvano
had called.
"Show him in here," His Excellency answered, crossing instantly to his
writing-table, unlocking one of the drawers, and placing the secret
despatch therein.
When Malvano entered, rosy, buxom, and smiling, well dressed in
frock-coat, and carrying his silk hat and stick with that air adopted by
members of the medical profession, the Count shook him by the hand and
greeted him cordially. Without invitation, His Excellency's visitor
tossed his hat and stick upon the sofa, sank into the nearest chair, and
stretched out his legs, apparently quite at home.
The Ambassador, first raising the heavy velvet _portiere_, and slipping
the small brass bolt of the door into its socket, took a seat at his
table, and fixing his eyes upon the man who had served him with wine the
night before, said, with a sigh--
"Well, Filippo. A crisis appears imminent."
"You have heard from Rome?" Malvano exclaimed quickly. "I met Varesi,
the messenger, in the hall."
"Yes," His Excellency said. "I've received certain instructions from
the Minister, but it is impossible to act upon them."
"Why?"
"For the prestige of Italy, for our own reputations, for the personal
safety of the one to whom we owe our knowledge, it is impossible to
act," the Count answered gravely. "My hands are tied absolutely."
"And you will stand by and see murder committed without seeking to bring
pressure to bear against those who seek our ruin? This is not like you,
Castellani."
"No, Filippo," the other said, in a tone of confidence quite unusual to
him, for he was a stern, rather harsh, diplomat, who never allowed any
personal interest to interfere with his duties as Ambassador. "Not a
word of reproach from you, of all men. You alone know that I have
secretly done my best in this affair; that I have more than once risked
my appointment in order to successfully accomplish the work which you
and I have in hand."
"And I, too, have done my utmost," Malvano observed. "Up to the
present, however, our enemies have been far too wary to be caught
napping."
"Yes," the Ambassador said. "In this matter I have relied absolutely
upon your patriotism. Like myself, you have run great risks; but I fear
that all is to no purpose."
"Why?"
"Because we have not yet fathomed the mystery of the death of the girl
Vittorina Rinaldo. If we could do that it would give us a clue to the
whole affair."
"Exactly," Malvano answered. "In that matter we are no nearer the truth
than we were on the first day we commenced our investigation. And why?
Because of one thing--we fear `La Gemma.'"
"Where is she now?"
"Ah! Unfortunately she quarrelled with young Armytage, left the Hotel
Victoria suddenly, and--"
"And her whereabouts are unknown," His Excellency gasped. "Dio mio!" he
cried. "Then she may actually have gone back to Italy and betrayed
everything!"
"I think that very probable," Malvano said gravely. "For the past
fortnight I've been daily at the Bonciani, and have kept my ears open.
There is something secret in progress."
"What's its nature?"
"I don't know."
"Then you ought to know," His Excellency cried petulantly. "You must
find out. Remember, you are the secret agent of this Embassy, and it is
your duty to keep me well informed."
Malvano smiled. The expression upon his round ruddy face at that moment
was the same as when, on the night Romanelli dined with him at
Lyddington, he had urged his young friend to travel to Livorno, and make
a declaration of love to the unfortunate Vittorina. It was a covert
glance of cunning and double dealing. "I always report to you all I
know," he answered. "Yes, yes," His Excellency said hastily, in a more
conciliatory tone. "I withdraw those words, Filippo. Forgive me,
because to-day I'm much worried over a matter of delicate diplomacy. In
this affair our interests are entirely mutual. You and I love our
country, our beloved Italia, and have taken an oath to our Sovereign to
act always in his interests. It therefore now becomes our duty to
elucidate this mystery. In you Italy has a fearless man of marvellous
resource and activity--a man who has, in the past, obtained knowledge of
secrets in a manner which has almost passed credence. Surely you will
not desert us now and relinquish all hope of obtaining the key to this
extraordinary enigma. What have you heard at Lady Marshfield's?"
"I sent in my daily report this morning," the Doctor answered rather
coldly. "You have, I suppose, read it?"
"I have," His Excellency said, leaning both his arms upon the table. "I
cannot, however, believe that your surmise has any foundation. It's
really too extraordinary."
"Why?"
"Such a thing seems not only improbable, but absolutely impossible," the
Count replied.
There was a pause, brief and painful. The men looked at one another
deeply in earnest. At last Malvano spoke.
"I know well the conflicting interests in this matter. If we do our
best for Italy, we do the worst for ourselves--eh?"
The Ambassador nodded. "My political enemies in Rome have, I fear,
ingeniously plotted my downfall," the Count replied in a low tone, as he
pressed the other's hand. "A single spark is only required to fire the
mine. Then the Ministry will be overthrown, and the country must
inevitably fall into the hand of the Socialists. Look what they have
already done in Venice and in Milan. At the latter city they've closed
La Scala, one of the finest theatres in the world; they've dissolved the
dancing-school, and have done their worst in every direction. Venice
has been revolutionised and now at every local election one reads,
written with black paint upon the walls, `Down with the King and the
robbers! Long live the Revolution!' I'm a staunch supporter of law and
order, a firm upholder of country and of King, therefore my days of
office are numbered."
"Not if we successfully solve this enigma."
"Why? By doing so I shall defeat the plots of my enemies, and thus
embitter them against me far more than before."
"You fear La Gemma?"
His Excellency nodded.
"Why?"
"She knows too much."
"So did Vittorina. She was silenced."
"What do you mean, Malvano?" the Ambassador cried, pale and agitated.
"That she should share the same fate?"
"No," the other answered gravely. "As far as I can see no life need be
taken if we act with cunning and discretion. Can you trust me?"
"I do so implicitly," His Excellency answered, seeing that the secret
agent was now entirely in earnest. "More than once you have obtained
knowledge by means little short of miraculous."
"Briefly, I'm an excellent spy--eh?" the Doctor laughed. "Well, I
didn't spend ten years at the Questura in Firenze, and practise as a
doctor at the same time, without obtaining a little wholesome
experience. If you'll give this affair entirely into my hands, I'll
promise to do my level best, and to assist you out of your dilemma.
Your position at this moment is, I know, one of the most extreme peril;
but by playing a desperate game we may succeed in discovering what is
necessary, thereby placing ourselves and our country in a position of
absolute security."
"You are an extremely good friend, Filippo," the Count answered quickly.
"In this country, surrounded as I am by traitors and spies, you are the
only one in whom I can absolutely trust--except Carmenilla."
"Your daughter must know nothing," the Doctor exclaimed quickly. "This
is no woman's affair. If life must be sacrificed, then she might
inadvertently expose us--women are such strange creatures, you know."
"Whose life, then, do you fear may be taken?" His Excellency eagerly
asked.
The Doctor raised his shoulders with a gesture expressive of profound
ignorance.
"Not Gemma's?"
"Why not Gemma's?" Malvano inquired, in an intense voice. "In this
affair we must speak plainly. Is she not your enemy?"
"Certainly."
"Then, if a life must be taken, why not hers?"
There was a silence, broken only by the low rumble of carriages and cabs
outside.
"No," His Excellency answered. "Before I give you perfect freedom in
this matter you shall promise me that she shall be spared. I have
reasons--strong ones."
"Certainly, if you desire it," the secret agent replied. The thought at
that moment flashed across his mind that, if for the preservation of
their secret her lips must necessarily be closed, there were others
beside himself who would compass her death. The life of a man or woman
can always be taken for a sovereign in London, if one knows where to
look for men ready to accomplish such work.
"Then you give me your promise?" the Count asked eagerly.
"On one condition only," Malvano replied in a firm voice, while his eyes
fixed themselves upon those of the Ambassador.
"What is your condition?" His Excellency inquired.
"There must be no secret between you and me, for in order to
successfully accomplish this stroke of diplomacy we must act
deliberately, with forethought, and yet boldly face the facts, risking
everything--even our lives," he answered. Then, gazing straight into
the other's face, he added, "I shall not act unless you allow me to read
the despatch you received to-day from Rome." The Ambassador's brows
instantly contracted, and he held his breath. For the first time, he
became seized with a suspicion that this man, whose deep cunning as a
secret agent was almost miraculous, was now playing him false.
"No," he answered, "that is impossible. My oath to the King prevents me
showing any one a despatch marked as confidential."
"Then your oath to the King prevents you from acting in the interests of
Italy and the Crown; it prevents me from forging a weapon wherewith to
fight the enemies of our beloved country."
"The despatch is entirely of a private character, and concerns myself
alone," His Excellency protested.
"In other words, you can't trust me--eh?" the Doctor said, with a hard
look of dissatisfaction. "I therefore refuse to act further in this
affair, and shall leave you to do as you think fit. I must be in
possession of all the known facts before I embark upon the perilous
course before us; and as you decline absolutely, I am not prepared to
take any steps in the dark. The risks are far too great."
The Ambassador was silent for a few moments, his eyes riveted upon those
of the secret agent. Then, in a deep, intense voice, he said--
"Malvano, I dare not show you that despatch."