The grey morning mist hung over the Tiber and over the Eternal City, but
outside the town it was bright, crisp, and sunny.
Away at Frascati on the pleasant mountain slopes with those lovely views
over the Campagna, fifteen miles from Rome, the day was charming, and at
noon quite warm and delightful.
Perhaps of all the _contorini_ of Rome the Frascati is the most
attractive. By road and rail it is easy of access, and perhaps this
fact had induced Lola to telephone to Hubert and give him an appointment
in the beautiful grounds of the Villa Aldobrandini, where there
certainly would be no other person, save perhaps a few odd British
tourists who would not recognise either of the pair.
At noon, therefore, both having arrived by train from Rome, they had met
at a spot appointed by Her Highness, and were standing together against
an old broken piece of statuary under a high hedge of dark ilex. The
great old sixteenth-century villa, built by Cardinal Pietro
Aldobrandini, nephew of Clement VIII, is now, alas! falling into decay;
its fountains are dilapidated; its statuary broken; its terraces, once
trod by papal dignitaries, moss-grown; while over the steps of its
principal entrance the green lizards flash in the sunshine.
Its grounds, however, are still the delight of the traveller, with their
terraces, their fantastic grottos, their fountains and rocks, their
great oaks, their funereal cypresses, and their splendid extensive
views.
From where the diplomat stood beside the Princess he could see far away
across the plain to where the great dome of St Peter's rose in the
blue-grey mists of the panorama, while on the other hand lay the ancient
Tusculum, and the range of blue hills dominated by the Corbio--as the
Italians call the Rocca Priora--while a little to the right shone the
Lake of Albano, lying like a mirror in its basin in the sunshine.
Lola had arrived there first, but as he came swinging along the path a
flush of pleasure mounted to her pale cheeks, and she put out her gloved
hand, greeting him warmly.
Dressed in dark grey, and wearing a magnificent set of blue fox, she
presented a very different appearance to that of the previous night when
she had worn the old dress and close-fitting bonnet of Renata's.
Hubert Waldron thought he had never seen her looking so charming, yet he
wondered why she had made that appointment so far away from Rome. He
was still wondering, too, why that letter of Henry Pujalet's should have
had such an effect upon her. With her last strenuous effort, however,
she had destroyed it. Why?
"Your man seemed awfully dense this morning," the Princess laughed.
"When I telephoned he thought it was the manageress of your fishmonger,
and told me that you required nothing to-day! Your English servants are
horribly abrupt, I assure you."
"I'm so sorry," he said, hastening to apologise. "I fear abruptness is
one of his failings, but he is honest. I've reprimanded him lots of
times."
"Ah! I expect he hears a good many female voices on the 'phone," she
laughed, teasing him; "and he has orders to what you call it in English,
to choke them off--eh?" and she laughed.
Together they walked along the gravelled path to where, beneath a tall
cypress, was an old semicircular stone seat, one of those placed there
when the great cardinal laid out the grounds of his princely villa.
Upon that they seated themselves when suddenly Her Highness, with an
anxious look upon her face, turned to her companion and said, still
speaking in English.
"I fear that we may be watched, therefore I made this appointment with
you here."
"Watched?" he echoed. "Who by? Old Ghelardi, I suppose?"
"No. I have no great fear of him," she answered. "But you have enemies
here, in Rome," she went on very seriously. "I have discovered that
they are desperate and intend to do you some grievous harm. Therefore I
urge you to make some excuse to leave Rome at once."
"Why, whatever do you mean, Princess?" he asked, staring at her.
"How often have I forbidden you to use that title to me?" she cried
petulantly. "To you I am Lola, plain Lola, as always," she said,
looking very gravely into his eyes. "We are friends. That is why I am
here to warn you."
"But I really don't understand," he protested. "What enemies can I have
here? And if I have, what harm can they possibly do me? I'm not
afraid, I assure you."
"Ah! I know you are not afraid," she answered. "But from what I have
heard, it seems probable that these people, whoever they are, must be in
fear of you--they suspect you are cognisant of some secret of theirs."
The word "secret" held him speechless for some seconds. She knew
nothing of the theft that had been committed at the Ministry of War.
The only "secret" which he had tried to discover was the identity of the
thief.
"But how came you to know this?" he asked at last.
"I--well I heard a rumour last night," was her vague reply; "and I
thought it my duty, as your friend, to warn you lest you should be
entrapped or taken unawares."
"Then you really and honestly believe that these mysterious, unknown
persons, whoever they are, mean mischief?" he asked, looking anxiously
into her pale, anxious countenance.
How handsome she was! How deeply, too, was he in love with her. He
held his breath, remembering how frantically he had kissed her hand; how
he had told her of the great burning passion within his heart, though
she had lain there with all consciousness blotted out.
"If I had any doubt, Signor Waldron, I should not trouble to raise this
alarm," she answered in a tone of slight reproach.
"But how can I leave Rome?" he asked, for he was reflecting that to
adopt her suggestion was impossible. His duty to the King, as well as
his duty to the British Service, precluded it at present. "Cannot you
go on leave again? Or--or cannot you get appointed to another post for
six months--or a year?"
He was silent, his eyes fixed upon hers.
"Are you so very anxious then to get rid of me?" he asked gravely.
"To get rid of you?" she echoed blankly. "To get rid of you--my most
sincere and devoted friend! How can you suggest such a thing?"
"Well, it almost seems so," he answered with a smile.
"My dear Signor Waldron, I warn you most seriously that you are in grave
personal peril, and that--"
"But you do not tell me how you know this, Lola," he interrupted. "I am
naturally most curious to know."
"Without doubt," she responded, her eyes cast down. "But the
information is from a source which I have no desire to divulge. I
learnt it entirely by accident."
"It was not contained in that letter I brought you from Brussels?" he
asked very slowly, for of that he held a faint suspicion. He looked her
straight in the eyes.
"Oh no," was her reply. "That letter--ah! it was about something--
something which affected me very closely. I know that I was very
foolish to allow it to upset me so. It was absurd of me to faint as I
did. But I could not help it. I suppose I am but a woman, after all."
It was on the tip of his tongue to describe how old Ghelardi had
discovered them together in the room of the Minister of the Household,
but he hesitated, fearing to unduly cause her annoyance. He had defied
the chief spy of Italy, but was as yet uncertain whether the crafty old
fellow had not gone secretly to the King and told him the story--with
many embellishments, perhaps.
"Your indisposition was not your own fault, Lola," he answered in a
voice of deepest sympathy. "No doubt Monsieur Pujalet's letter
contained something to cause you the gravest disconcern."
"Disconcern!" she cried, starting up wildly, her big expressive eyes
full of anxiety. "Ah! you do not know--how can you know all the
tortures of conscience, of the daily, hourly terror I am now suffering!
No! You cannot understand."
"Because you will explain nothing," he remarked with dissatisfaction.
"I cannot, I dare not--even to you, my most intimate friend!"
"Well, Lola, I confess that each time we meet you become more and more
mysterious."
"Ah! Because I am compelled. Surrounded by enemies, even my
association with you seems to have placed you also in a deadly peril.
That is why I am appealing to you to leave Rome."
"I can't," he said. "That is entirely out of the question. But now
that you have warned me I will be wary--and will carry my revolver, if
you think it necessary."
"Cannot you leave Italy? It would be far safer."
"And leave you in this perilous position? No," was his prompt and
decisive answer.
"But I beg--nay, I implore you to do so," she cried, holding out both
her hands to him.
He shook his head slowly.
"It is quite impossible. If danger really exists, then I must face it."
For some moments she remained silent.
"Have you seen Ghelardi lately?" she asked quite suddenly.
Her question surprised. What, he wondered, could she know?
"I saw him the day before yesterday," was his vague reply.
"Has it not struck you that he is very ill-disposed towards you?" she
exclaimed.
"Certainly. I have always known that--even while we were up the Nile,
and he was passing as Jules Gigleux. He objected to our friendliness.
Yet he never seemed to discover that you were acquainted with Henri
Pujalet. That was curious, was it not?"
She smiled.
"Perhaps because I was extremely careful not to betray it--eh?" But
next second she glanced at the little diamond-studded watch upon her
wrist, and rising quickly, declared that it was time for her to catch
the train back to Rome.
"There is a luncheon to the Grand Duke of Oldenbourg to-day, and I shall
be in horrible disgrace if I'm absent," she explained. "But it will be
best for you to travel by the next train. It is injudicious for us to
be seen together, Mr Waldron, especially if we are watched--as I
believe we are."
"Ghelardi's secret agents may lurk anywhere," he said, as they walked
together to the great gateway of the villa.
"No, I do not fear them, I tell you," she said.
"But just now you told me that he is ill-disposed towards me--a fact of
which I am well aware."
"I tell you it is not Ghelardi that I fear, but certain persons who, for
their own mysterious purposes, intend to make an attack upon you when
fitting opportunity offers."
"Trust me to remain wary," replied Hubert with a smile, and then after
they had stood together in the winter sunshine for several moments near
the gate he lifted his hat, bowed low over her hand, and then stood
watching until she, pulling her splendid furs about her shoulders, had
disappeared into the road which led down to the rural station.
Ah! how he loved her! But he sighed and bit his lip.
To Hubert, the object of Her Highness's warning seemed both mysterious
and obscure. Did she, for some hidden purpose of her own wish to get
rid of him. If so, why?
The story that an attempt might be made upon him he was inclined to
discredit, especially as she had refused to reveal the source of her
information.
He lunched at the little _albergo_ above the steps leading to the
station, and by half-past two found himself back again in Rome where, in
his rooms, he found Pucci, the brigadier of police, awaiting him.
"I have a curious fact to report, signore," said the man when they were
alone together with the door closed.
"Well," asked Hubert, "what is it?"
"That your movements are being closely watched by two well-known
characters--criminals."
Waldron started, staring at the man, for had not Lola warned him that
very morning.
"Do you know them?"
"Quite well. One is called `The Thrush' by his associates, and has
served several long terms of imprisonment for theft. Indeed I arrested
him three years ago for attacking a policeman in the Piazza Farnese and
using a knife. The other is Beppo Fiola, who has been sentenced several
times for burglary."
"Professional thieves then?"
"Two of the worst characters we have in Rome, signore."
"I wonder what they want with me--eh?" asked Hubert, lighting a
cigarette, perfectly unperturbed.
"They mean no good, signore," declared the man very gravely. "Perhaps
they intend to commit a burglary here?"
"They are welcome. There's nothing here of any great value, and if they
do come they'll get a pretty warm reception," he laughed.
"Ah, signore, it is a very serious matter," protested the detective.
"These two men would, if it suited them, take life without the slightest
hesitation. In a case four months ago where a Russian diamond-dealer
was robbed of his wallet and his body found in the Tiber stabbed to the
heart, the strongest suspicion attached to the two men in question,
though we have not yet been able to bring home the crime to them."
"But I haven't any diamonds or valuables," replied the diplomat.
"No, but perhaps you, signore, may be in possession of some secret or
other concerning them," the detective said. "Perhaps even they may be
employed by some enemy of yours to watch an opportunity and close your
lips."
Hubert looked at the man in surprise without replying.
"Yes, signore," Pucci added very gravely, "such a thing is not entirely
unknown in Rome, remember. Therefore I would urge you to exercise the
greatest caution; to beware of any trap, and always to carry arms. It
would be best, I think, to report to the Questore, and arrest both men
on suspicion."
"No, Pucci," Hubert replied quickly. "No. Watch closely, but make no
move. Their arrest might upset all my present plans."