"Well?" Gemma exclaimed, quickly recovering herself, and looking keenly
into the dark face of the newcomer.
"Well?" he said, imitating with a touch of sarcasm the tone in which she
had spoken, at the same time taking a cigarette from his case and
lighting it with a vesta from the china stand upon the table.
"What does this mean?" she inquired in Italian, regarding him with a
look which clearly showed his presence was unwelcome.
"Finish your coffee and come out with me. I must speak with you. Here
it's too risky. We might be overheard. St James's Park is near, and
we can talk there without interruption," he said. Evidently a
gentleman, aged about fifty-five, with long iron-grey side-whiskers and
hair slightly blanched. His eyes were intelligent and penetrating, his
forehead broad and open, his chin heavy and decisive, and he was
undoubtedly a man of stern will and wide achievements. He spoke
polished Italian, and his manner was perfect.
Gemma kept her eyes fixed upon him, fascinated by fear. Her gloved hand
trembled perceptibly as she raised her cup to her lips.
"You had no idea that you would meet me--eh?" he laughed, speaking in an
undertone. "Well, drink your coffee, and let us take a cab to the
Park." He flung down sixpence to the waiter, and they went out
together. She walked mechanically into the street, dumbfounded,
stupefied.
By his side she staggered for a few paces, then halting said, in a
sudden tone of anger--
"Leave me! I refuse to accompany you."
Her companion smiled. It was already dark, the shop windows were lit,
and the hurrying crowd of passers-by did not notice them.
"You'll come with me," the man said sternly. "I want to talk to you
seriously, and in privacy. It was useless in that place with half a
dozen people around, all with ears open. Besides," he added, "in a cafe
of that sort I may be recognised." Then he hailed a passing cab.
"No, no!" she cried, as it drew up to the kerb. "I won't go--I won't!"
"But you shall!" he declared firmly, taking her arm. "You know me well
enough to be aware that I'm not to be trifled with. Come, you'll obey
me."
She hesitated for a moment, gazed blankly around her as if seeking some
one to protect her, sighed, and then slowly ascended into the vehicle.
"Athenaeum Club," he shouted to the driver, and sprang in beside the
trembling woman. It was evident from her manner that she held him in
repugnance, while he, cool and triumphant, regarded her with
satisfaction.
During the drive they exchanged few words. She was pensive and sullen,
while he addressed her in a strangely rough manner for one of such
outward refinement. They alighted, and descending the steps into the
Mall at the point where a relic of old-time London still remains in the
cow-sheds where fresh milk can be obtained, crossed the roadway and
entered the Park by one of the deserted paths which ran down to the
ornamental water.
"You thought to escape me--eh?" her companion exclaimed when at last
they halted at one of the seats near the water. He was well acquainted
with that quarter of London, for he had served as attache at the Court
of St James twenty years ago.
"I had no object in so doing," she answered boldly. In their drive she
had decided upon a definite plan, and now spoke fearlessly.
"Why, then, have you not answered my letters?"
"I never answer letters that are either reproachful or abusive," she
replied, "even though they may be from the Marquis Montelupo, His
Majesty's Minister for Foreign Affairs."
"If you had deigned to do so, it would have obviated the necessity of me
coming from Rome to see you at all this personal risk."
"It's well that you risk something, as well as myself. I've risked
enough, Heaven knows!" she answered.
"And you've found at last a confounded idiot of a lover who will prove
our ruin."
"My love is no concern of yours," she cried quickly. "He may be left
entirely out of the question. He knows nothing; and further, I've
parted from him."
"Because he has ascertained who you really are," the great statesman
said.
"For that I have to thank you," she retorted quickly. "If you had been
a trifle more considerate and had not allowed the police of Livorno to
act as they did, he would still have been in ignorance."
"I acted as I thought fit," her companion said in an authoritative tone,
lighting another cigarette from the still burning end of the one he had
just consumed.
"You've brought me here to abuse me!" she cried, her eyes flashing
fiercely upon him.
"Because you played me false," he answered bitterly. "You thought it
possible to conceal your identity, marry this young fool of an
Englishman, and get away somewhere where you would not be discovered.
For that reason you've played this double game." Then he added
meaningly, "It's only what I ought to have expected of a woman with such
a reputation as yours."
"Charles Armytage is no fool," she protested. "If he found you here,
speaking like this to me, he'd strangle you."
The Marquis, whose dark eyes seemed to flash with a fierce light,
laughed sarcastically.
"No doubt by this time he's heard lots of stories concerning you," he
said. "A man of his stamp never marries an adventuress."
"Adventuress!" she echoed, starting up with clenched hands. "You call
me an adventuress--you, whose past is blacker than my own--you who owe
to me your present position as Minister!"
He glanced at her surprised; he had not been prepared for this fierce,
defiant retort.
Again he laughed, a laugh low and strangely hollow.
"You forget," he said, "that a word from me would result in your arrest,
imprisonment, and disgrace."
She held her breath and her brows contracted. That fact, she knew, was
only too true. In an instant she perceived that for the present she
must conciliate this man, who was one of the rulers of Europe. The game
she was now playing was, indeed, the most desperate in all her career,
but the stake was the highest, the most valuable to her in all the
world, her own love, peace, and happiness.
"And suppose you took this step," she suggested, finding tongue with
difficulty at last. "Don't you think you would imperil yourself? A
Foreign Minister, especially in our country, surrounded as he is by a
myriad political foes, can scarcely afford to court scandal. I should
have thought the examples of Crispi, Rudini, and Brin were sufficient to
cause a wary man like yourself to hesitate."
"I never act without due consideration," the Marquis replied. The voice
in which he spoke was the dry, business-like tone he used towards
Ambassadors of the Powers when discussing the political situation, as he
was almost daily compelled to do. In Rome, no man was better dressed
than the Marquis Montelupo; no man had greater tact in directing matters
of State; and in no man did his Sovereign place greater faith. As he
sat beside her in slovenly attire, his grey moustaches uncurled, his
chin bearing two or three days' growth of grey beard, it was hard to
realise that this was the same man who, glittering with orders, so often
ascended the great marble and gold staircase of the Quirinal, to seek
audience with King Humbert; whose reputation as a statesman was
world-wide, and whose winter receptions at his great old palazzo in the
Via Nazionale were among the most brilliant diplomatic gatherings in
Europe.
"I have carefully considered the whole matter," he said, after a
moment's pause. "I arrived in London yesterday, and from what I have
learnt I have decided to take certain steps without delay."
"Then you have been to the Embassy!" she exclaimed breathless. "You've
denounced me to Castellani!"
"There was no necessity for that," he answered coldly. "He already
knows that you are his enemy."
"I his enemy!" she echoed. "I have never done him an evil turn. He has
heard some libellous story, I suppose, and, like all the world, believes
me to be without conscience and without remorse."
"That's a pretty good estimate of yourself," the Marquis observed. "If
you had any conscience whatever you would have replied to my letters,
and not maintained a dogged silence through all these months."
"I had an object in view," she answered in a chilling tone. She, quiet
and stubborn, was resolved, insolent, like a creature to whom men had
never been able to refuse anything.
"What was it?"