On the following day, having sent my servant to inquire, I was informed
that the Don Jose de Martinos had arrived at the hotel, and had engaged
rooms on the floor above our own. Accordingly, after luncheon I ascended
to the rooms in question, and asked whether he would receive me. I had
scarcely waited more than a minute before he made his appearance. He
paused on the threshold to give an order to his man, and while he did
so, I was permitted an opportunity of taking stock of him. He was a
tall, muscular man of between thirty-five and forty years of age. His
appearance did not betray so much of his Spanish origin as I had
expected. Indeed, it would have been difficult to have given him a
nationality. I noticed that his beard, which he wore closely clipped,
was not innocent of the touch of Time. His face was a powerful one, but
at first glance I was not altogether prepossessed in its favour. His
hands and feet were small, the former particularly so for a man of his
size and build. Moreover, he was faultlessly dressed, and carried
himself with the air of a man of the world and of good breeding.
"Sir Richard Hatteras," he said, as he crossed the room to greet me,
"this is kind of you indeed. My friend, Anstruther, informed me that you
were in Venice, and was good enough to take upon himself the
responsibility of introducing me to you."
His voice was strong and musical, and he pronounced every word (he spoke
excellent English) as if it had a value of its own. I inquired after
Anstruther's health, which for some time past had been precarious, and
it was with satisfaction that I learnt of the improvement that had taken
place in it.
"You would scarcely know him now," said Martinos. "He looks quite strong
again. But permit me to offer you a cigar. We Spaniards say that we
cannot talk unless we smoke; you English that you cannot smoke if you
talk."
As he said this he handed me a box of cigars.
"I fancy you will like them," he said. "The tobacco was grown upon my
own estate in Cuba; for that reason I can guarantee their purity."
The weed I selected was excellent, in fact one of the best cigars
I had ever smoked. While he was lighting his I stole another
glance at him. Decidedly he was a handsome man, but--here was the
stumbling-block--there was something, I cannot say what, about him that
I did not altogether like. It was not a crafty face, far from it. The
eyes were well placed; the mouth from what one could see of it under his
black moustache was well moulded, with white, even teeth; the nose was
slightly aquiline; and the chin large, firm, and square. Nevertheless,
there was something about it that did not suit my fancy. Once I told
myself it was a cruel face, yet the singularly winning smile that
followed a remark of mine a moment later went some way towards
disabusing my mind upon that point.
"Lady Hatteras, I understood from Senor Anstruther, is with you," he
said, after we had talked of other things.
"She is down-stairs at this moment," I answered. "We are a party of
four--Miss Trevor (the daughter of the Dean of Bedminster), the Duke of
Glenbarth, my wife, and myself. I hope you will permit me the pleasure
of introducing you to them at an early date."
"I shall be most happy," he replied. "I am particularly fond of Venice,
but, when all is said and done, one must have companions to enjoy it
thoroughly."
I had been given to understand that this was his first visit to the
Queen of the Adriatic, but I did not comment upon the fact.
"One is inclined to believe that Adam would have enjoyed the Garden of
Eden if it had not been for Eve," I remarked, with a smile.
"Poor Adam," he answered, "I have always thought him a much-abused man.
Unlike ourselves, he was without experience; he had a companion forced
upon him who worked his ruin, and his loss on the transaction was not
only physical but financial."
"How long do you contemplate remaining in Venice?" I asked, after the
little pause that followed his last speech.
"I scarcely know," he answered. "My movements are most erratic. I am
that most unfortunate of God's creatures, a wanderer on the face of the
earth. I have no relations and few friends. I roam about as the fancy
takes me, remain in a place as long as it pleases me, and then, like the
Arab in the poem, silently take up my tent and move on as soon as the
city I happen to be in at the time has lost its charm. I possess a
_pied-a-terre_ of four rooms in Cairo, I have lived amongst the Khabyles
in the desert, and with the Armenians in the mountains. To sum it up, I
have the instincts of the Wandering Jew, and fortunately the means of
gratifying them."
What it was I cannot say, but there was something in his speech that
grated upon my feelings. Whether what he had said were true or not, I am
not in a position to affirm, but the impression I received was that he
was talking for effect, and every one will know what that means.
"As you are such a globe-trotter," I said, "I suppose there is scarcely
a portion of the world that you have not visited?"
"I have perhaps had more than my share of travelling," he answered. "I
think I can safely say that, with the exception of South America, I have
visited every portion of the known globe."
"You have never been in South America then?" I asked in some surprise.
"Never," he replied, and immediately changed the conversation by
inquiring whether I had met certain of Anstruther's friends who were
supposed to be on their way to Venice. A few minutes later, after having
given him an invitation to dinner on the next evening, I bade him
good-bye and left him. On my return my wife was eager to question me
concerning him, but as things stood I did not feel capable of giving her
a detailed reply. There are some acquaintances who, one feels, will
prove friends from the outset; there are others who fill one from the
first with a vague distrust. Not that I altogether distrusted Martinos,
I had not seen enough of him to do that; at the same time, however, I
could not conscientiously say, as I have already observed, that I was
altogether prepossessed in his favour.
The following morning he accepted my invitation for that evening, and
punctually at half-past seven he made his appearance in the
drawing-room. I introduced him to my wife, and also to Miss Trevor when
she joined us.
"My husband tells me that you are a great traveller," said Phyllis,
after they had seated themselves. "He says you know the world as we know
London."
"Your husband does me too much honour," he answered modestly. "From what
I have heard of you, you must know the world almost as well as I do. My
friend, Anstruther, has told me a romantic story about you. Something
connected with a South Sea island, and a mysterious personage named----"
He paused for a moment as if to remember the name.
"Nikola," I said; "you do not happen to have met him, I suppose?"
"To my knowledge, never," he answered. "It is a strange surname."
At that moment Glenbarth entered the room, and I introduced the two men
to each other. For some reason of my own I was quite prepared to find
that the Duke would not take a fancy to our new acquaintance, nor was I
destined to be disappointed. Before dinner was half over I could see
that he had a great difficulty in being civil to the stranger. Had
Martinos not been our guest, I doubt very much whether he would have
been able to control himself. And yet the Spaniard laid himself out in
every way to please. His attentions were paid chiefly to my wife, I do
not believe that he addressed Miss Trevor more than a dozen times
throughout the meal. Notwithstanding this fact, Glenbarth regarded him
with evident animosity, insomuch that Miss Trevor more than once looked
at him with an expression of positive alarm upon her face. She had not
seen him in this humour before, and though she may have had her
suspicions as to the reason of it, it was plain that she was far from
approving of his line of action. When the ladies withdrew, and the wine
was being circulated, I endeavoured to draw the two men into greater
harmony with each other. The attempt, however, was unsuccessful. More
than once Glenbarth said things which bordered on rudeness, until I
began to feel angry with him. On one occasion, happening to look up
suddenly from the cigar which I was cutting, I detected a look upon the
Spaniard's face that startled me. It however showed me one thing, and
that was the fact that despite his genial behaviour, Martinos had not
been blind to the young man's treatment of himself, and also that,
should a time ever arrive when he would have a chance of doing Glenbarth
a mischief, he would not be forgetful of the debt he owed him. Matters
were not much better when we adjourned to the drawing-room. Glenbarth,
according to custom, seated himself beside Miss Trevor, and studiously
ignored the Spaniard. I was more sorry for this than I could say. It was
the behaviour of a school-boy, not that of a man of the world; and the
worst part of it was, that it was doing Glenbarth no sort of good in the
eyes of the person with whom he wished to stand best. The truth was the
poor lad was far from being himself. He was suffering from an acute
attack of a disease which has not yet received the proper attention of
Science--the disease of first love. So overwhelmed was he by his
passion, that he could not bear any stranger even to look upon the
object of his adoration. Later in the evening matters reached their
climax, when my wife asked the Don to sing.
"I feel sure that you _do_ sing," she said in that artless way which
women often affect.
"I try sometimes to amuse my friends," said he, and begging us to excuse
him he retired to his own rooms, to presently return with a large
Spanish guitar. Having taken a seat near the window, and when he had
swept his fingers over the strings in a few preliminary chords, he
commenced to sing. He was the possessor of a rich baritone, which he
used with excellent effect. My wife was delighted, and asked him to sing
again. Miss Trevor also expressed her delight, and seconded my wife's
proposal. This was altogether too much for Glenbarth. Muttering
something about a severe headache he hurriedly left the room. My wife
and I exchanged glances, but Martinos and Miss Trevor did not appear to
notice his absence. This time he sang a Spanish fishing-song, but I did
not pay much attention to it. A little later the Don, having thanked us
for our hospitality, took his departure, and when Miss Trevor had said
good-night to us, and had retired to her own room, my wife and I were
left alone together.
"What could have made the Duke behave like that?" she said.
"He is madly in love, my dear, and also madly jealous," I answered. "I
hope and trust, however, that he is not going to repeat this
performance."
"If he does he will imperil any chance he has of winning Gertrude's
love," she replied. "He will also place us in a decidedly awkward
position."
"Let this be a lesson to you, my dear, never to play with fire again," I
replied. "You bring two inflammable people together, and wonder that
there should be an explosion."
"Well, I'm really very angry with him. I don't know what the Don Jose
must have thought."
"Probably he thought nothing about it," I replied. "You mustn't be too
angry with Glenbarth, however. Leave him to me, and I'll talk to him.
To-morrow, I promise you, he'll be sorry for himself. If I know anything
of women, Gertrude will make him wish he had acted differently."
"I don't think she will bother about the matter. She has too much
sense."
"Very well; we shall see."
I then bade her go to bed, promising myself to sit up for Glenbarth,
who, I discovered, had gone out. It was nearly midnight when he
returned. I noticed that every trace of ill-humour had vanished from his
face, and that he was quite himself once more.
"My dear Dick," he said, "I don't know how to apologize for my
ridiculous and rude behaviour of to-night. I am more ashamed of myself
than I can say. I behaved like a child."
Because he happened to be in a repentant mood I was not going to let him
off the chastising I felt that I ought to give him.
"A nice sort of young fellow you are, upon my word," I said, putting
down the paper I had been reading as I spoke. "I've a very good mind to
tell you exactly what I think of you."
"It would be only wasting your time," he returned. "For you can't think
half as badly of me as I do of myself. I can't imagine what made me do
it."
"Can't you?" I said. "Well, I can, and as you are pretty certain to
catch it in one particular quarter to-morrow, I fancy, on mature
reflection, that I can afford to forgive you. The man had done you no
harm; he not only did not interfere with you, but he was not trespassing
upon your----"
"Don't speak of him," said the young fellow, flaring up at once. "If I
think of him I shall get angry again. I can't bear the look of the
beggar."
"Steady, my young friend, steady," I returned. "You mustn't call other
people's friends by that name."
"He is not your friend," said Glenbarth excitedly. "You've never seen
him until to-night, and you've known me ever since I was about so
high."
"I began to imagine you only 'so high' this evening," I said. "It's a
good thing for you that the wife has gone to bed, or I fancy you would
have heard something that would have made your ears tingle. After the
foolish manner of women, she has come to the conclusion that she would
like you to marry Miss Trevor."
"God bless her!" he said fervently. "I knew that she was my friend."
"In that case you would probably have enjoyed a friend's privilege, had
you been here to-night before she retired, and have received a
dressing-down that is usually reserved for her husband. I live in hopes
that you may get it to-morrow."
"Bosh!" he answered. "And now, if you have forgiven me, I think I will
go to bed. I've had enough of myself for one day."
With that we shook hands, and bade each other good-night. At his bedroom
door he stopped me.
"Do you think she will forgive me?" he asked, as humbly as would a boy
who had been caught stealing sugar-plums.
"My wife," I answered. "Yes, I think it is very probable that she will."
"No, no; how dense you are; I mean----" Here he nodded his head in the
direction of the room occupied by Miss Trevor.
"You'll have to find out that for yourself," I replied, and then went
on to my dressing-room.
"That will give your Grace something to think about all night," I said,
as I took off my coat.
As it turned out, I was destined to be fairly accurate in the prophecy I
had made concerning Miss Trevor's treatment of Glenbarth on the morrow.
At breakfast she did not altogether ignore him, but when I say that she
devoted the larger share of her attention to myself, those of my readers
who are married, and have probably had the same experience, will
understand. My wife, on the other hand, was affability itself, and from
her behaviour toward him appeared to be quite willing to forgive and
forget the unfortunate episode of the previous evening. I chuckled to
myself, but said nothing. He was not at the end of his punishment yet.
All that day we saw nothing of Martinos. Whether he remained at home or
went abroad we could not say. On returning to the hotel to lunch,
however, we discovered a basket of roses in the drawing-room, with the
Don's card tied to the handle.
"Oh, what lovely flowers!" cried my wife in an ecstasy. "Look, Gertrude,
are they not beautiful?"
Miss Trevor cordially admired them; and in order, I suppose, that
Glenbarth's punishment might be the more complete, begged for a bud to
wear herself. One was given her, while I watched Glenbarth's face over
the top of the letter I was reading at the moment. My heart was touched
by his miserable face, and when he and my wife had left the room to
prepare for lunch, I determined to put in a good word for him.
"Miss Gertrude," I said, "as an old friend I have a favour to ask of
you. Do you think you can grant it?"
"You must first tell me what it is," she said, with a smile upon her
face. "I know from experience that you are not to be trusted."
"A nice sort of character for a family man," I protested. "Lady Hatteras
has been telling tales, I can see."
"Your wife would never tell a tale of any one, particularly of you," she
asserted. "But what would you ask of me?"
"Only a plea for human happiness," I said with mock gravity. "I have
seen absolute despair written indelibly on a certain human countenance
to-day, and the sight has troubled me ever since. Are you aware that
there is a poor young man in this hotel, whose face opens like a daisy
to the sun when you smile upon him, and closes in the darkness of your
neglect?"
"How absurd you are!"
"Why am I absurd?"
"Because you talk in this fashion."
"Will you smile upon him again? He has suffered a great deal these last
two days."
"Really you are too ridiculous. I don't know what you mean."
"That is not the truth, Miss Trevor, and you know it."
"But what have I done wrong?"
"That business with the rose just now, for instance, was cruel, to say
the least of it."
"Really, Sir Richard, you _do_ say such foolish things. If I want a rose
to wear surely I may have one. But I must not stay talking to you, it's
five-and-twenty minutes past one. I must go and get ready for lunch."
I held open the door for her, and as she passed I said--
"You will do what I ask? Just to please me?"
"I don't know what you mean, but I will think it over," she replied, and
then departed to her room.
She must have done as she promised, for the rose was absent from her
dress when she sat down to lunch. Glenbarth noticed it, and from that
moment his drooping spirits revived.
That afternoon my wife and I went down to meet the P. and O. mail-boat,
in order to discover some friends who were on their way to Egypt. As
neither the Duke of Glenbarth nor Miss Trevor were acquainted with them
they were excused from attendance. When we joined them it was plain that
all traces of trouble had been removed, and in consequence the Duke was
basking in the seventh heaven of happiness. Had I asked the young man at
that moment for half his estates I believe he would willingly have given
them to me. He would have done so even more willingly had he known that
it was to my agency that he owed the wondrous change in his affairs. For
some reason of her own Miss Trevor was also in the best of spirits. My
wife was happy because her turtle-doves were happy, and I beamed upon
them all with the complacency of the God out of the machine.
All this time I had been wondering as to the reason why we had not heard
or seen anything of Nikola. Why I should have expected to do so I cannot
say, but after the events of three evenings ago, I had entertained a
vague hope that I should have seen him, or that he would have
communicated with me in some form or another. We were to see him,
however, before very long.
We had arranged to visit the Academy on our return from the mail-boat,
where my wife was anxious to renew her acquaintance with the Titans.
For my own part I am prepared to admit that my knowledge of the pictures
is not sufficiently cultivated to enable me to derive any pleasure from
the constant perusal of these Masters. Phyllis and Miss Trevor, however,
managed to discover a source of considerable satisfaction in them. When
we left the gallery, we made our way, according to custom, in the
direction of the piazza of Saint Mark. We had not advanced very far upon
our walk, however, before I chanced to turn round, to discover, striding
after us, no less a person than our new acquaintance, Don Jose Martinos.
He bowed to the ladies, shook hands with myself, and nodded to the Duke.
"If you are proceeding in the direction of the piazza, will you permit
me to accompany you?" he asked, and that permission having been given by
my wife, we continued our walk. What Glenbarth thought of it I do not
know, but as he had Miss Trevor to himself, I do not see that he had
anything to complain of. On reaching Florian's _cafe_, we took our
customary seats, the Don placing himself next to my wife, and laying
himself out to be agreeable. Once he addressed Glenbarth, and I was
astonished to see the conciliatory manner that the other adopted towards
him.
"Now that he sees that he has nothing to fear, perhaps he will not be
so jealous," I said to myself, and indeed it appeared as if this were
likely to be the case. I was more relieved by this discovery than I
could say. As we should probably be some time in Venice, and the Don had
arrived with the same intention, and we were to be located in the same
hotel, it was of the utmost importance to our mutual comforts that there
should be no friction between the two men. But enough of this subject
for the present. There are other matters to be considered. In the first
place I must put on record a curious circumstance. In the light of after
events it bears a strange significance, and he would be a courageous man
who would dare to say that he could explain it.
It must be borne in mind, in order that the importance of what I am now
about to describe may be plainly understood, that Miss Trevor was seated
facing me, that is to say, with her back towards the Cathedral of St.
Mark. She was in the best of spirits, and at the moment was engaged in
an animated discussion with my wife on the effect of Ancient Art upon
her _bete noir_, the Cockney tourist. Suddenly, without any apparent
reason, her face grew deathly pale, and she came to a sudden stop in the
middle of a sentence. Fortunately no one noticed it but my wife and
myself, and as she was herself again in a moment, we neither of us
called attention to it. A moment later I glanced across the square, and
to my amazement saw no less a person than Doctor Nikola approaching us.
Was it possible that Miss Trevor, in some extraordinary manner, had
become aware of his proximity to her, or was it only one of those
strange coincidences that are so difficult to explain away? I did not
know what to think then, nor, as a matter of fact, do I now.
Reaching our party, Nikola raised his hat to the ladies.
"I fear, Lady Hatteras," he said, "that I must have incurred your
displeasure for keeping your husband so long away from you the other
night. If so, I hope you will forgive me."
"I will endeavour to do so," said my wife with a smile, "but you must be
very careful how you offend again."
Then turning to Miss Trevor, he said, "I hope you will grant me your
gracious intercession, Miss Trevor?"
"I will do my best for you," she answered, with a seriousness that made
my wife and I look at her.
Then Nikola shook hands with Glenbarth, and glanced at the Don.
"Permit me to introduce you to Don Jose de Martinos, Doctor Nikola," I
said; "he has lately arrived from Algiers."
The two men bowed gravely to each other.
"You are fond of travelling, I presume, Senor," said Nikola, fixing his
eyes upon the Don.
"I have seen a considerable portion of the world," the other answered.
"I have seen the Midnight Sun at Cape North and the drift ice off the
Horn."
"And have not found it all barren," Nikola remarked gravely.
From that moment the conversation flowed smoothly. Miss Trevor had quite
recovered herself, and I could see that the Don was intensely interested
in Nikola. And indeed on this particular occasion the latter exerted
himself to the utmost to please. I will admit, however, that something
not unlike a shudder passed over me as I contrasted his present
affability with his manner when he had threatened the unfortunate Police
Agent a few nights before. Now he was a suave, pleasant-mannered man of
the world, then he figured almost as an avenging angel; now he discussed
modern literature, then I had heard him threaten a human being with the
direst penalties that it was possible for man to inflict. When it was
time for us to return to our hotel, Nikola rose and bade us good-bye.
"I hope you will permit me the pleasure of seeing more of you while you
are in Venice," said Nikola, addressing the Don. "If you are an admirer
of the old palaces of this wonderful city, and our friends will
accompany you, I shall be delighted to show you my own poor abode. It
possesses points of interest that many of the other palaces lack, and,
though it has fallen somewhat to decay, I fancy you will admit that the
fact does not altogether detract from its interest."
"I shall hasten to avail myself of the opportunity you are kind enough
to offer me," the other replied, after which they bowed ceremoniously to
each other and parted.
"Your friend is an extraordinary man," said the Don as we walked towards
the steps. "I have never met a more interesting person. Does he
altogether reside in Venice?"
"Oh dear, no," I replied. "If one were asked to say where Nikola had his
abode it would be almost necessary to say 'in the world.' I myself met
him first in London, afterwards in Egypt, then in Australia, and later
on in the South Sea Islands. Now we are together again in Venice. I have
good reason for knowing that he is also familiar with China and Thibet.
He himself confesses to a knowledge of Africa and Central America."
"To Central America?" said the Don quickly. "Pray what part of Central
America does he know?"
"That I am unable to say," I replied. "I have never questioned him upon
the subject."
From that moment the Don almost exclusively addressed himself to my
wife, and did not refer to Nikola again. We parted in the hall of the
hotel. Next morning we saw him for a few moments at the post-office, but
at no other time during the day. On the following day he accompanied us
on an excursion to Chioggia, and dined with us afterwards. Though I knew
that Glenbarth still disliked him, his hostility was so veiled as to be
scarcely noticeable. Towards the end of the evening a note was brought
to me. One glance at the handwriting upon the envelope was sufficient to
show me that it was from Nikola. It ran as follows--
"MY DEAR HATTERAS,
"Remembering your friend Don Martinos' desire to see my poor
palace, I have written to ask him if he will dine with me to-morrow
evening at eight o'clock. If I can persuade you and the Duke of
Glenbarth to give me the pleasure of your society, I need scarcely
say that you will be adding to my delight.
"Sincerely yours,
"NIKOLA."
"You have not of course received your letter yet," I said, addressing
the Don. "What do you say to the invitation?"
"I shall accept it only too willingly," he answered without delay.
"Provided, of course, you will go too."
"Have you any objection to raise, Duke?" I asked, addressing Glenbarth.
I could see that he was not very anxious to go, but under the
circumstances he could not very well refuse.
"I shall be very happy," he answered.
And for once in his life he deliberately said what he knew to be
untrue.