_J’ACCUSE._
The glow of that wonderful evening had faded into the light of
common day, and the conquering beauty in gold tissue was Cinderella
again in her despised national dress. But for the present the memory
was enough, and Linton’s caustic comments were forgotten in the
glorious fact that Kalliopé, the underling, had for once associated
on equal terms with Linton’s employers. These employers were too much
occupied this morning with their own affairs to have much thought to
spare for their guest of the night before. The post, which was not by
any means a daily, or even a regular occurrence, came in before
breakfast was over, and Armitage tore open one of his letters with
considerable excitement.
“Old Pazzi!” he said. “He’s on his way here--ought to get in to-day.
Says he had just had my letter telling him we thought we might be able
to give him news of his grandson, and was starting at once.”
“Poor old man! How nice it will be if Janni really is his grandson,”
said Zoe.
“Will it?” asked her husband. “In that case Janni would also be the
son of Prince Romanos, you must remember, and we should find ourselves
in a dilemma between them.”
“Why, Maurice!” cried Zoe, rising to greet her brother. “Have you come
to breakfast? Do sit here.”
“No, thanks; I have breakfasted. Is there any news from Pazzi? Here is
Romanos writing to declare himself the most unfortunate and worst
treated man in the world, and casting himself upon us for advice and
help. He is coming here privately, and is due to arrive to-day. The
queer thing is that he is bringing Panagiotis with him.”
“Had he got your letter about Janni?” asked Wylie quickly.
“Evidently not. I didn’t mention Janni, you know--put it very
carefully, that circumstances had come to our knowledge intimately
connected with his private affairs, and it was possible we might be
able to throw some light on them--but he makes no allusion to it.
Besides, he must have started before it could have arrived.”
“Well, Pazzi is on his way here, and is also due to-day.”
“You don’t think they are travelling together? No, one of them would
surely have mentioned it. And where does the Professor come in?”
“I should say he is at his favourite game--acting as friend of both
parties. He and Romanos have discovered that Pazzi is on his way here,
and they are afraid of revelations. So they are coming too.”
“Which party will get here first?--or will they arrive together? Well,
I suppose we shall get some light now on many things. Zoe, I think it
would be well not to tell Kalliopé who is coming.”
“I shouldn’t dream of it. There will be nothing startling in the
Cavaliere’s returning to his duties, of course, and as Prince Romanos
is travelling incog., there is no reason to mention his name at all.”
As it happened, the Cavaliere Pazzi was the first of the travellers to
arrive. Armitage was out sketching, and Maurice and Wylie were busy
administering justice when he reached the Konak, so that he was
ushered at once to the verandah where Zoe was sitting with the
children and Danaë. The old man’s face looked pinched and worn, but
his eyes gleamed with youthful fire.
“You have news for me, madame?” he said eagerly. “It cannot be, as I
have once or twice in my hurried journey been tempted to fear, that
you have held out a false hope to allure me back from Therma?”
Zoe spoke in Greek to Danaë. “Bring me the Lord Janni, Kalliopé.”
The girl obeyed, and Zoe took the child and set him on the old man’s
knee. “So far as we can tell, that is your grandchild, Cavaliere.”
“This, madame? Ah, I think I can trace in him something of my lost
Olimpia, though more of her treacherous husband. Is it not a
misfortune, that I cannot behold even this relic of my child without
recalling her murderer?”
“Can you not be satisfied to rejoice that he is alive, without blaming
him for what he can’t help?”
“His nurse snatched him from destruction, I suppose?”
“So we believe, but she told so many contradictory stories at
first--owing to terror, perhaps--that we have really left off
questioning her about it. Now look at him, Cavaliere; isn’t he a dear
little fellow? Kiss your grandfather, Janni; he loves you very much.”
Janni had maintained his position only by dint of being forcibly held
there, for the Cavaliere’s piercing eyes and beaklike nose made him a
formidable person, but now he looked up into his face, and apparently
reading there some encouragement, put his arms shyly round his neck.
The old man was much moved.
“Blessings on thee, my Giannino!” he cried. “And it was this little
angel, madame, that his unnatural father tried to murder!”
“Ah, that we cannot be sure of,” said Zoe earnestly. “The Prince is
coming here, and must tell his own story.”
“Coming here--that villain? Madame, I entreat you, let me take this
child, and the faithful woman to whose devotion I owe it that he is
spared to me, and seek safety before he is exposed to fresh dangers.”
He stood up, with Janni in his arms, and seemed ready to start at
once. Zoe was at her wits’ end.
“But after all, Cavaliere, he is the Prince’s son as well as your
grandson,” she pleaded. “We cannot let him go away till his father has
seen him.”
“And succeeded in killing him?” with a grim smile.
“But we don’t know that he did try to kill him. And it’s quite certain
that he won’t try to do it here. Besides, don’t you see what a good
thing it will be for you and the Prince to thresh matters out together
on neutral ground, so to speak? You don’t want to go on believing such
a dreadful thing as that poor Donna Olimpia was murdered by her own
husband if it isn’t true?”
“I think, madame, that it will take a cleverer tongue than even my
son-in-law’s to persuade me of his innocence.”
“Well, then,” urged Zoe desperately, “if he did do it, perhaps he will
let you keep Janni rather than have the scandal made public. And if he
did try to kill him, surely he won’t want him now?”
“Will you pledge yourself that your brother and husband will not give
up the child to him, madame?”
“How can I? If he can clear himself, I suppose it is natural he should
have him back. But if not, then I think I can promise that at any rate
we shall keep Janni in our own charge for the present.”
She saw with much relief that this suggestion was acceptable, for the
old man’s mien had been so determined as to make her fear it would be
necessary to send for Wylie to prevent his carrying off Janni bodily
forthwith. Now he replaced him gently on her knee.
“You have given me fresh life, madame, in restoring to me this little
child. I see myself returning to my modest dwelling with a new
interest in place of that of which I have been so cruelly deprived,
concealing from the lad the sad story of his parentage, and bringing
him up as a worthy descendant of Maxim Psicha. Even in the
materialistic and impoverished Magnagrecia of to-day, there will be a
place in the army for the grandson of a veteran of the War of
Independence, and in the meantime my pension will suffice for us. The
girl there is the deserving young woman to whom I owe the preservation
of this precious life?”
“Yes; but, Cavaliere, you have asked her no questions--merely taken
for granted that Janni is your grandson. Would you like me to
interpret for you?”
“No, madame, I will ask her no questions now, lest it should be
charged against me that I have put words into her mouth. I will
question her in the presence of her late master--and I entreat you to
bring it about that I may do so as soon as possible. I am an old man,
and I have travelled fast, but I cannot rest until I have unmasked the
villain.”
“I hear sounds as if some one was arriving,” said Zoe, rising. “If it
is the Prince, and he is willing, we might talk about things after
lunch. But will you not put it off till to-night, and rest a little
first?”
“I cannot, madame. I am my daughter’s avenger.”
They went down the stairs together, leaving Danaë a prey to intense
curiosity and apprehension. The Cavaliere’s treatment of Janni had at
once recalled to her mind the words of Petros respecting the arrival
of the Lady’s father at Therma. But if this was the man, how much did
he know, and how much did her employers know? She was racked with
anxiety, for the lies which had once come so glibly to her lips were
now harder to frame, and moreover, they had landed her in such a
tangle that she did not know how to extricate herself. Even if she
gave the lie to everything she had said already, she and Janni and
their relations with Petros must still be accounted for--and she had
no means of discovering how much or how little of the truth it would
be expedient to make known. She walked restlessly about, trying to
decide what to do, and as her gaze fell casually into the courtyard,
she was electrified to see her brother crossing it in company with
Prince Theophanis. Next to Petros, Prince Romanos was the last person
she desired to see at the moment, and she dropped down behind the
parapet, but not before he had caught a glimpse of her. The moment
before, he had been walking wearily, like one tired and depressed, his
shoulders bowed, his very moustache drooping. But the merest sight of
a handsome girl acted as a challenge, and he drew himself up, squared
his shoulders and twisted his moustache. Then, to the intense
amusement of his sister, watching him from between the railings, he
pretended to have dropped something and induced his host to go back
with him a dozen yards or so to look for it, that he might swagger
past again, casting furtive glances up at the verandah in search of
the face he had seen.
“You should wear a kilt, lord--not European riding-clothes--if you
want to show off properly,” Danaë addressed him mentally, veering
unconsciously towards Armitage’s views on costume. “But what are you
doing here? and what is Friend Secretary going to do? What has been
discovered? How much does anyone know?”
Questions very similar to these were in the minds of all those who met
at the luncheon-table of Prince and Princess Theophanis. Wylie and his
wife and Armitage were there to meet Prince Romanos and Professor
Panagiotis, and in the presence of the servants nothing important
could be discussed. It struck most of the English party as quaint that
Prince Romanos, whose whole future, so far as could be judged, hung
upon the result of the forthcoming conference, was very much at his
ease--almost as if he had transferred his burden to the shoulders of
his friends, and it was no further concern of his. He even remarked to
Zoe that she had a remarkably pretty girl in her household, but
unfortunately very shy, and she reflected that years did not seem to
have wrought much change in him. When they moved into the
drawing-room, however, there was a general feeling that something was
going to happen, and the almost instant appearance of the Cavaliere
Pazzi showed that it was not to be long delayed. He and his son-in-law
bowed to one another coldly.
“I heard that you were ahead of me, monsieur,” said the Prince.
“I thought it probable that you might follow me,” was the reply, given
with studious lack of formality. The Prince’s sallow face flushed
darkly, and Maurice interfered in haste.
“You may be surprised by our claiming acquaintance with your private
affairs, Prince, but as a matter of fact, your wife confided the news
of your marriage to my sister very soon after it occurred.”
“She could not have found a better confidant,” said Prince Romanos
politely, but Zoe found his eyes fixed gloomily upon her. He was
clearly asking himself whether it was possible that she could have
kept this damaging secret--known, no doubt, to her husband also--so
long without making use of it to injure him?
“It did not occur to her to connect the two events,” Maurice went on,
“when, five or six months ago, a girl from the islands, in charge of a
little child, sought refuge with us. But perhaps you see a
connection?”
“How long ago?” asked Prince Romanos excitedly. “A girl from the
islands, you say? Was the child a boy?”
“The exact day was that on which Wylie and I left Therma--when you
were to have joined us, but were prevented by--by severe personal
bereavement.”
“Exactly. But what should have taken the girl to you?”
“We found her running away in terror from your servant Petros and she
implored our help. Her first story was that her sister had been
murdered by her husband----” Maurice paused involuntarily, struck by
the ominous coincidence of the words, then hurried on--“and she was
escaping with the child. Petros was anxious to claim control over her,
but she denied frantically that he had any right to it, and we did not
think he was quite the person to take charge of a young girl. We
agreed to produce her if she was wanted in any legal proceedings, and
meanwhile promised to find a place for her here. My sister has
employed her in the nursery, and brought up the little boy with her
own child.”
“Princess, accept the thanks of a father who thought himself bereaved
of wife and son in one day,” said Prince Romanos, kissing Zoe’s hand.
“Then the discerning eye of Zeto detected the son of John Theophanis
under the mean disguise?”
“Don’t flatter me too much,” said Zoe, laughing with an effort. “Janni
was just the age of my own Harold, and made a delightful companion for
him. Besides, the girl very soon informed us that he was not her
sister’s child, but some one immensely superior. But can you be quite
sure that he is your lost child?”
“My heart tells me so, Princess. Janni? his very name! The day of his
adoption, that on which I lost him. The anxiety of my faithful Petros
to recover him--by the bye, the rascal has been leading me a pretty
dance since. All-Holy Mother of God! he must have known where the
child was the whole time! The nurse-girl is his niece; they must have
made up the plot together.”
“Surely it would be better to have the girl here at once, and let her
bring the child for you to see?” said Maurice, and Wylie called to one
of the servants outside and gave him the order. Prince Romanos looked
slightly disconcerted.
“I could wish to have embraced my recovered treasure first in
private,” he said to Zoe, with the faintest hint of reproach in his
tone.
“And to have given instructions to the nurse in private also?”
inquired the Cavaliere sarcastically.
Meanwhile, the receipt of Wylie’s order caused commotion in the
nursery. Danaë declared that she would not go down; she was tired,
she was ill, she was terrified; Linton must take Janni. They wrangled
over the whole process of getting him into his best frock, and were
still fixed in their respective determinations when Parisi himself
puffed upstairs to inquire what was the reason of this delay? Was the
Lady Kalliopé waiting for the Lord Glafko to come and fetch her, or
did she insist upon the escort of the gracious Prince himself?
Danaë’s elevation of the previous night had not met with approval
among the servants, and she realised in time that they would like
nothing better than to drag her by force, struggling and shrieking,
into the presence of Princess Theophanis and her guests. Therefore she
merely tossed her head in answer to Parisi’s ponderous raillery, and
seizing Janni, marched defiantly down the stairs and across the
courtyard.
“Why, Eurynomé!” said Prince Romanos stiffly.
“I am she, lord,” she responded. “You wished to see the little lord?”
The Prince’s ill-humour melted as he held out his arms, and the
watching grandfather noted jealously that the child went to him at
once, and nestled confidingly against his shoulder. Danaë watched
them with pride.
“What made you take the little lord away, Eurynomé?” demanded the
Prince abruptly.
“You told me to, lord,” was the answer, which produced a sensation.
Was the Cavaliere justified in insinuating that Prince Romanos had
suborned Petros and the nurse to remove the child and keep him out of
sight?
“Nonsense, girl! Tell the truth.”
“I am telling it, lord. Did I not bring you the little lord, to
comfort you, when you were mourning over the body of the Lady, and did
you not command me many times over to take him away?”
“I told you to take him to the nursery, of course.”
“Yes, lord; and was he to remain there forgotten, until the murderers
came back to kill him as they had killed his mother?” There was
another sensation.
“Who were these murderers, Kalliopé?” asked Maurice.
She looked round desperately. All her instincts of loyalty bade her
lie through thick and thin, if necessary, to support her brother, but
she had no means of knowing whether truth or falsehood would profit
him better. “If I could tell my lord about it alone first?” she
faltered.
“No, no--no teaching the girl what to say!” cried the Cavaliere Pazzi
furiously, and Professor Panagiotis turned a warning glance on Prince
Romanos. He responded gloomily.
“No. Say what you know at once.”
“It was a very hot day,” began Danaë hesitatingly. “My lord had
visited the Lady to bid her farewell, and old Despina had gone out
marketing. The Lady was writing a letter in the shade of the wood, and
I was playing with the little lord on the ground near her. We were
just going to take him indoors for his sleep when we heard noises at
the gate. Old Mariora came running to bid the Lady hide, because there
were murderers there, and went to try to stop them. But the Lady bade
me take the little lord and hide him, and she would speak to the
murderers and give me time. Then I carried the little lord very
quickly through the house and hid myself with him, and remained there
a long while, and when I came out the Lady lay dead on the grass, and
Mariora on the pathway, and Despina near the gate.” She paused with
something of pride. If she had said nothing that was false, she had at
any rate exercised a judicious economy of the truth.
“Where did you hide yourself, Kalliopé?” asked Zoe.
“It was--up a tree, my lady.” Formerly this would have been mentioned
with pride, but now Danaë blushed.
“Could you see the murderers?” asked Wylie quickly.
Her eyes sought her brother’s face anxiously, but in vain. “Yes,
lord,” she admitted with reluctance.
“What were they like?” asked Professor Panagiotis.
“They wore the clothes of the guard, lord,” after another wild glance
at Prince Romanos. Danaë knew by the demeanour of her audience that
she must be establishing some very serious charge against her brother,
but its nature she could not define.
“Was there anyone among them that you knew?” asked Maurice. Her lips
moved, but no answer came.
“Was Petros one of them?” asked Wylie, with a sudden inspiration, and
Danaë threw Petros to the wolves without a qualm. He was a good way
off, and if he was discredited beforehand his recrimination might be
robbed of its power.
“Yes, lord; Petros was there.”
“Was that why you were running away from him afterwards?”
“Surely, lord. I feared that he would take the little lord and slay
him.”
“But why did you tell us so many lies about yourself and the child?”
“How could I do otherwise, lord? I did not know then the goodness of
your hearts, and I desired to save the little lord until I could
restore him to his father.”
“Knowing that his father desired nothing of the kind?” demanded the
Cavaliere. Happily he spoke in French, and Danaë did not understand
him. Maurice interposed hastily.
“The girl had better go now, I think. We can send for her again if
anyone wants to question her. Take the little lord back to the
nursery, Kalliopé.”
She vanished, with Janni in her arms, and delivered him duly into
Linton’s care. But having exactly fulfilled the order she had
received, she returned noiselessly, and sat crouched on the verandah
close to the window, with so little parade of secrecy that the guards
below thought she had been told to return, and did not molest her. The
conversation within was continued in French or English, as before she
was sent for, and of course she could not understand it.
“I went through the roll of my guard that evening,” said Prince
Romanos wearily, “to satisfy myself; and with the exception of Petros,
who was on the sick-list, they were all able to account for
themselves.”
“Naturally. They were on duty,” snapped the Cavaliere.
“I suppose there is now no objection on your part, Prince, after what
we have heard, to admitting that Donna Olimpia was murdered?”
interposed Maurice.
“Yes, she was foully murdered,” he groaned.
“Then why invent the diphtheria lie?” demanded Wylie.
Prince Romanos spread forth his hands helplessly. “I can see as well
as you do to what suspicions I exposed myself,” he said; “but I was
simply not in a position to take up the matter properly. I could not
afford to alienate my people by allowing my marriage to come to light
at the moment, and as mother and child were both dead, so far as I
knew, it seemed the wisest course to hush things up for a time, and
inquire into them fully afterwards.”
“It was undoubtedly the most convenient course for yourself at the
time,” said the Cavaliere, with deadly meaning.
“What do you insinuate, monsieur?” the Prince asked him sharply.
“I insinuate nothing, I accuse. At that time you were negociating for
the hand of the Grand Duchess Feodora. Unfortunately there was an
obstacle; you had a wife already. Your wife refused to be pensioned
off or to allow herself to be repudiated. Therefore you sent a
detachment of your guards to murder her, under the ruffian Petros,
your confidential servant. To order the death of the child was too
much even for you, but you drove him from you with his nurse, and
Petros knew what he was intended to do. But for the meeting with
Prince Theophanis and Colonel Wylie, neither nurse nor child would
have been seen again. In intention you murdered them as truly as in
fact you murdered your unhappy wife and her servants.”