To the joy of every one, by the Thursday following Miss Trevor was
sufficiently recovered to be able to leave her room. It was a happy day
for every one concerned, particularly for the Duke, who came nearer
presenting the appearance of an amiable lunatic on that occasion than I
had ever seen him before. Why my wife should have encouraged him in his
extravagance I cannot say, but the fact remains that she allowed him to
go out with her that morning with the professed idea of purchasing a few
flowers to decorate the drawing-room for the invalid's reception. So
great was their extravagance that the room more resembled a hot-house,
or a flower-show, than a civilized apartment. I pointed this out to my
wife with a gentle remonstrance, and was informed that, being a mere
husband, I knew nothing at all about the matter. I trust that I
preserved my balance and lived up to my reputation for sanity in the
midst of this general excitement, though I am prepared to confess that
I was scarcely myself when the triumphal procession, consisting of my
wife and the Dean, set off to the invalid's apartment to escort her in.
When she appeared it was like a ghost of her former self, and a poor wan
ghost too. Her father, of course, she had already seen, but neither I
nor Glenbarth had of course had the honour of meeting her since she was
taken ill. She received him very graciously, and was kind enough to
thank me for the little I had done for her. We seated her between us in
a comfortable chair, placed a footstool under her feet, and then, in
order that she should not have too much excitement, and that she might
rest quietly, the Dean, the Duke, and myself were sent about our
business for an hour. When we returned, a basket of exquisite roses
stood on the table, and on examining it the card of Don Jose de Martinos
was found to be attached to it.
It is some proof of the anxiety that Glenbarth felt not to do anything
that might worry her, when I say that he read the card and noted the
giver without betraying the least trace of annoyance. It is true that he
afterwards furnished me with his opinion of the giver for presuming to
send them, but the casual observer would have declared, had he been
present to observe the manner in which he behaved when he had first
seen the gift, that he had taken no interest in the matter at all.
Next day Miss Trevor was permitted to get up a little earlier, and on
the day following a little earlier still. In the meantime more flowers
had arrived from the Don, while he himself had twice made personal
inquiries as to the progress she was making. It was not until the third
day of her convalescence that Nikola called to see his patient. I was
sitting alone with her at the time, my wife and our other two guests
having gone shopping in the Merceria. I was idly cutting a copy of a
Tauchnitz publication that I had procured for her on the previous day.
The weather was steadily growing warmer, and, for this reason, the
windows were open and a flood of brilliant sunshine was streaming into
the room. From the canal outside came the sounds of rippling laughter,
then an unmistakably American voice called out, "Say, girls, what do you
think of Venice now you're here?" Then another voice replied, "Plenty of
water about, but they don't seem to wash their buildings much." Miss
Trevor was about to speak, in fact she had opened her lips to do so,
when a strange expression appeared upon her face. She closed her eyes
for a moment, and I began to fear that she was ill. When she opened them
again I was struck by a strange fact; the eyes were certainly there,
but there was no sort of life in them. They were like those of a
sleep-walker who, while his eyes are open, sees nothing of things about
him. A moment later there was a knock at the door, and Doctor Nikola,
escorted by a servant, entered the room. Wishing us "good-morning," he
crossed the room and shook hands with Miss Trevor, afterwards with
myself.
"You are certainly looking better," he said, addressing his patient, and
placing his finger and thumb upon her wrist as he spoke.
"I am much better," she answered, but for some reason without her usual
animation.
"In that case I think this will be the last visit I shall pay you in my
professional capacity," he said. "You have been an excellent patient,
and in the interests of what our friend Sir Richard here calls Science,
permit me to offer you my grateful thanks."
"It is I who should thank you," she answered, as if she were repeating
some lesson she had learnt by heart.
"I trust then, on the principle that one seldom or never acts as one
should, that you will not do it," he replied, with a smile. "I am amply
rewarded by observing that the flush of health is returning to your
cheeks."
He then inquired after my wife's health, bade me be careful of her for
the reason that, since I had behaved so outrageously towards them, no
other doctors in Venice would attend her, should she be taken ill, and
then rose to bid us adieu.
"This is a very short visit," I said. "Cannot we persuade you to give us
a little more of your society?"
"I fear not," he answered. "I am developing quite a practice in Venice,
and my time is no longer my own."
"You have other patients?" I asked, in some surprise, for I did not
think he would condescend to such a thing.
"I have your friend, Don Martinos, now upon my hands," he said. "The
good Galaghetti is so abominably grateful for what I did for his child,
that he will insist on trying to draw me into experimenting upon other
people."
"Would it be indiscreet to ask what is the matter with the Don?" I said.
"He does not look like a man who would be likely to be an invalid."
"I do not think there is so very much wrong with him," Nikola replied
vaguely. "At any rate it is not anything that cannot be very easily put
right."
When he left the room I accompanied him down the corridor as far as the
hall.
"The fact of the matter is," he began, when we were alone together, "our
friend the Don has been running the machinery of life a little too fast
of late. I am told that he lost no less a sum than fifty thousand pounds
in English money last week, and certainly his nerves are not what they
once were."
"He is a gambler, then?" I said.
"An inveterate gambler, I should say," Nikola answered. "And when a
Spaniard takes to that sort of amusement, he generally does it most
thoroughly."
Whatever the Don's illness may have been, it certainly had made its mark
upon his appearance. I chanced to meet him that afternoon on the Rialto
bridge, and was thunderstruck at the change. The man's face was white,
and his eyes had dark rings under them, that to my thinking spoke for an
enfeebled heart. When he stopped to speak to me, I noticed that his
hands trembled as though he were afflicted with St. Vitus's dance.
"I hope Miss Trevor is better," he said, after I had commented upon the
fact that I had not seen him of late.
"Much better," I answered. "In fact, she may now be said to be
convalescent. I was sorry to hear from Doctor Nikola, however, that you
yourself are not quite the thing."
"Nerves, only nerves," he answered, with what was almost a frightened
look in his eyes. "Doctor Nikola will set me right in no time, I am
sure of that. I have had a run of beastly luck lately, and it has upset
me more than I can say."
I knew to what he referred, but I did not betray my knowledge. After
that he bade me farewell, and continued his walk. That evening another
exquisite basket of flowers arrived for Miss Trevor. There was no card
attached to it, but as the Duke denied all knowledge of it, I felt
certain as to whence it came. On the day following, for the first time
since her illness, Miss Trevor was able to leave the house and to go for
a short airing upon the canal. We were rejoiced to take her, and made
arrangements for her comfort, but there was one young man who was more
attentive than all the rest of the party put together. Would Miss Trevor
like another cushion? Was she quite sure that she was comfortable? Would
she have preferred a gondola to a barca? I said nothing, but I wondered
what the Dean thought, for he is an observant old gentleman. As for the
young lady herself, she accepted the other's attentions with the most
charming good-humour, and thus all went merry as marriage-bells. On the
day following she went out again, and on the afternoon of the next day
felt so much stronger as to express a desire to walk for a short time on
the piazza of St. Mark. We accordingly landed at the well-known steps,
and strolled slowly towards the cathedral. It was a lovely afternoon,
the air being soft and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the
sea.
It is needless for me to say that Glenbarth was in the Seventh Heaven of
Delight, and was already beginning to drop sundry little confidences
into my ear. Her illness had ruined the opportunity he had hoped to have
had, but he was going to make up for it now. Indeed it looked very much
as if she had at last made up her mind concerning him, but, having had
one experience of the sex, I was not going to assure myself that all was
satisfactory until a definite announcement was made by the lady herself.
As it turned out it was just as well that I did so, for that afternoon,
not altogether unexpectedly I must confess, was destined to prove the
truth of the old saying that the course of true love never runs smooth.
Miss Trevor, with the Duke on one side and my wife on the other, was
slowly passing across the great square, when a man suddenly appeared
before us from one of the shops on our right. This individual was none
other than the Don Jose de Martinos, who raised his hat politely to the
ladies and expressed his delight at seeing Miss Trevor abroad once more.
As usual, he was faultlessly dressed, and on the whole looked somewhat
better in health than he had done when I had last seen him. By some
means, I scarcely know how it was done, he managed to slip in between my
wife and Miss Trevor, and in this order we made our way towards our
usual resting-place, Florian's _cafe_. Never, since we had known him,
had the Don exerted himself so much to please. The Duke, however, did
not seem satisfied. His high spirits had entirely left him, and, in
consequence, he was now as quiet as he had been talkative before. It was
plain to all of us that the Don admired Miss Trevor, and that he wanted
her to become aware of the fact. Next morning he made an excuse and
joined our party again. At this the Duke's anger knew no bounds.
Personally I must confess that I was sorry for the young fellow. It was
very hard upon him, just as he was progressing so favourably, that
another should appear upon the scene and distract the lady's attention.
Yet there was only one way of ending it, if only he could summon up
sufficient courage to do it. I fear, however, that he was either too
uncertain as to the result, or that he dreaded his fate, should she
consign him to the Outer Darkness, too much to put it into execution.
For this reason he had to submit to sharing her smiles with the
Spaniard, which, if only he could have understood it, was an excellent
thing for his patience, and a salutary trial for his character.
Meanwhile my wife looked on in despair.
"I thought it was all settled," she said pathetically, on one occasion,
"and now they are as far off as ever. Why on earth does that troublesome
man come between them?"
"Because he has quite as much right to be there as the other," I
answered. "If the Duke wants her, let him ask her, but that's just what
he won't do. The whole matter should have been settled by now."
"It's all very well for you to say that," she returned. "The poor boy
would have done it before Gertrude was taken ill, but that you opposed
him."
"And a very proper proceeding too," I answered. "Miss Trevor was under
my charge, and I was certainly not going to let any young man, doubtless
very desirable, but who had only known her two days, propose to her, get
sent about his business, render it impossible for our party to continue
together, and by so doing take all the pleasure out of our holiday."
"So it was only of yourself you were thinking?" she returned, with that
wonderful inconsistency that is such a marked trait in her character.
"Why do you urge him now to do it?"
"Because Miss Gertrude is no longer under my charge," I answered. "Her
father is here, and is able to look after her." Then an idea occurred to
me, and I acted upon it at once.
"When you come to think of it, my dear," I said, as if I had been
carefully considering the question, "why should the Don not make
Gertrude as good a husband as Glenbarth? He is rich, doubtless comes of
a very good family, and would certainly make a very presentable figure
in society."
She stared at me aghast.
"Well," she said in astonishment, "I must say that I think you are a
loyal friend. You know that the Duke has set his heart on marrying her,
and yet you are championing the cause of his rival. I should never have
thought it of you, Dick."
I hastened to assure her that I was not in earnest, but for a moment I
almost fancy she thought I was.
"If you are on the Duke's side I wonder that you encourage Don Martinos
to continue his visits," she went on, after the other matter had been
satisfactorily settled. "I cannot tell you how much I dislike him. I
feel that I would rather see Gertrude married to a crossing-sweeper than
to that man. How she can even tolerate him, I do not know. I find it
very difficult to do so."
"Poor Don," I said, "he does not appear to have made a very good
impression. In common justice I must admit that, so far as I am
concerned, he has been invariably extremely civil."
"Because he wants your interest. You are the head of the house."
"It is a pretty fiction--let it pass however."
She pretended not to notice my gibe.
"He is gambling away every halfpenny he possesses."
I regarded her with unfeigned astonishment. How could she have become
aware of this fact? I put the question to her.
"Some one connected with the hotel told my maid, Phillipa," she
answered. "They say he never returns to the hotel until between two and
three in the morning."
"He is not married," I retorted.
She vouchsafed no remark to this speech, but, bidding me keep my eyes
open, and beware lest there should be trouble between the two men, left
me to my own thoughts.
The warning she had given me was not a futile one, for it needed only
half an eye to see that Glenbarth and Martinos were desperately jealous
of one another. They eyed each other when they met as if, at any moment,
they were prepared to fly at each other's throats. Once the Duke's
behaviour was such as to warrant my speaking to him upon the subject
when we were alone together.
"My dear fellow," I said, "I must ask you to keep yourself in hand. I
don't like having to talk to you, but I have to remember that there are
ladies in the case."
"Then why on earth doesn't Martinos keep out of my way?" he asked
angrily. "You pitch into me for getting riled, but you don't see how
villainously rude he is to me. He contradicts me as often as he can,
and, for the rest of the time, treats me as if I were a child."
"In return you treat him as if he were an outsider, and had no right to
look at, much less to speak to, Miss Trevor. Nevertheless he is our
friend--or if he is not our friend, he has at least been introduced to
us by a friend. Now I have no desire that you should quarrel at all, but
if you must do so, let it be when you are alone together, and also when
you are out of the hotel."
I had no idea how literally my words were to be taken.
That night, according to a custom he had of late adopted, Martinos put
in an appearance after dinner, and brought his guitar with him. As he
bade us "good-evening" I looked at the Duke's face. It was pale and set
as if he had at last come to an understanding with himself. Presently
my wife and I sang a duet together, in a fashion that pointed very
plainly to the fact that our thoughts were elsewhere. Miss Trevor
thanked us in a tone that showed me that she also had given but small
attention to our performance. Then Gertrude sang a song of Tosti's very
prettily, and was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. After this the
Don was called upon to perform. He took up his guitar, and having tuned
it, struck a few chords and began to sing. Though I look back upon that
moment now with real pain, I must confess that I do not think I had ever
heard him sing better; the merry laughter of the song suited his voice
to perfection. It was plainly a comic ditty with some absurd imitations
of the farm-yard at the end of each verse. When he had finished, my wife
politely asked him to give us a translation of the words. Fate willed
that she should ask, I suppose, and also that he should answer it.
"It is a story of a foolish young man who loved a fair maid," he
replied, speaking with the utmost deliberation. "Unfortunately, however,
he was afraid to tell her of his love. He pined to be with her, yet,
whenever he was desirous of declaring his passion, his courage failed
him at the last moment, and he was compelled to talk of the most
commonplace things, such as the animals upon his father's farm. At last
she, tiring of such a laggard, sent him away in disgust to learn how to
woo. In the meantime she married a man who was better acquainted with
his business."
Whether the song was exactly as he described it, I am not in a position
to say; the fact, however, remains that at least four of our party saw
the insinuation and bitterly resented it. I saw the Duke's face flush
and then go pale. I thought for a moment that he was going to say
something, but he contented himself by picking up a book from the table
at his side, and glancing carelessly at it. I could guess, by the way
his hands gripped it, something of the storm that was raging in his
breast. My wife, meanwhile, had turned the conversation into another
channel by asking the Dean what he had thought of a certain old church
he had visited that morning. This gave a little relief, but not very
much. Ten minutes later the Don rose and bade us "good-night." With a
sneer on his face, he even extended his good wish to the Duke, who
bowed, but did not reply. When he had gone, my wife gave the signal for
a general dispersal, and Glenbarth and I were presently left in the
drawing-room alone. I half expected an immediate outburst, but to my
surprise he said nothing on the subject. I had no intention of
referring to it unless he did, and so the matter remained for the time
in abeyance. After a conversation on general topics, lasting perhaps a
quarter of an hour, we wished each other "good-night," and retired to
our respective rooms. When I entered my wife's room later, I was
prepared for the discussion which I knew was inevitable.
"What do you think of your friend now?" she asked, with a touch of
sarcasm thrown into the word "friend." "You of course heard how he
insulted the Duke?"
"I noticed that he did a very foolish thing, not only for his own
interests with us, but also for several other reasons. You may rely upon
it that if ever he had any chance with Gertrude----"
"He never had the remotest chance, I can promise you that," my wife
interrupted.
"I say if ever he had a chance with Gertrude, he has lost it now. Surely
that should satisfy you."
"It does not satisfy me that he should be rude to our guest at any time,
but I am particularly averse to his insulting him in our presence."
"You need not worry yourself," I said. "In all probability you will see
no more of him. I shall convey a hint to him upon the subject. It will
not be pleasant for Anstruther's sake."
"Mr. Anstruther should have known better than to have sent him to us,"
she replied. "There is one thing I am devoutly thankful for, and that is
that the Duke took it so beautifully. He might have been angry, and have
made a scene. Indeed I should not have blamed him, had he done so."
I did not ask her, for reasons of my own, whether she was sure that his
Grace of Glenbarth was not angry. I must confess that I was rendered
more uneasy by the quiet way he had taken it, than if he had burst into
an explosion. Concealed fires are invariably more dangerous than open
ones.
Next morning after breakfast, while we were smoking together in the
balcony, a note was brought to Glenbarth. He took it, opened it, and
when he had read the contents, thrust it hastily into his pocket.
"No answer," he said, as he lit a cigar, and I thought his hand trembled
a little as he put the match to it.
His face was certainly paler than usual, and there was a far-away look
in his eyes that showed me that it was not the canal or the houses
opposite that he was looking upon.
"There is something behind all this, and I must find out what it is," I
said to myself. "Surely he can't be going to make a fool of himself."
I knew, however, that my chance of getting anything satisfactory out of
him lay in saying nothing about the matter just then. I must play my
game in another fashion.
"What do you say if we run down to Rome next week?" I asked, after a
little pause. "My wife and Miss Trevor seem to think they would enjoy
it. There are lots of people we know there just now."
"I shall be very pleased," he answered, but with a visible effort.
At any other time he would have jumped eagerly at the suggestion.
Decidedly there was something wrong! At luncheon he was preoccupied, so
much so that I could see Miss Trevor wondered what was the matter. Had
she known the terrible suspicion that was growing in my own mind, I
wonder what she would have said, and also how she would have acted?
That afternoon the ladies resolved to remain at home, and the Dean
decided to stay with them. In consequence, the Duke and I went out
together. He was still as quiet as he had been in the morning, but as
yet I had not been able to screw up my courage to such a pitch as to be
able to put the question to him. Once, however, I asked the reason for
his quietness, and received the evasive reply "that he was not feeling
quite up to the mark that day."
This time I came a little nearer the point.
"You are not worrying about that wretched fellow's rudeness, I hope?" I
said, looking him fairly and squarely in the face.
"Not in the least," he answered. "Why should I be?"
"Well, because I know you are hot-tempered," I returned, rather puzzled
to find an explanation for him.
"Oh, I'll have it out with him at some time or another, I have no
doubt," he continued, and then changed the subject by referring to some
letters he had had from home that day.
When later we returned to the hotel for afternoon tea, we found the two
ladies eagerly awaiting our coming. From the moment that he entered the
room, Miss Trevor was graciousness itself to the young man. She smiled
upon him, and encouraged him, until he scarcely knew whether he was
standing upon his head or his heels. I fancy she was anxious to
compensate him for the Don's rudeness to him.
That evening we all complained of feeling tired, and accordingly went to
bed early. I was the latest of the party, and my own man had not left my
dressing-room more than a minute before he returned with the
information that the Duke's valet would be glad if he could have a few
words with me.
"Send him in," I said, and forthwith the man made his appearance.
"What is it, Henry?" I inquired. "Is your master not well?"
"I don't know what's wrong with his Grace, sir," the man replied. "I'm
very much frightened about him, and I thought I would come to you at
once."
"Why, what is the matter? He seemed well enough when I bade him
good-night, half-an-hour or so ago."
"It isn't that, sir. He's well enough in his body," said the man.
"There's something else behind it all. I know, sir, you won't mind my
coming to you. I didn't know what else to do."
"You had better tell me everything, then I shall know how to act. What
do you think is the reason of it?"
"Well, sir, it's like this," Henry went on. "His Grace has been very
quiet all day. He wrote a lot of letters this morning and put them in
his dispatch-box. 'I'll tell you what to do with them later, Henry,' he
said when he had finished. Well, I didn't think very much of that, but
when to-night he asked me what I had made up my mind to do with myself
if ever I should leave his service, and told me that he had put it down
in his will that I was to have five hundred pounds if he should die
before I left him, I began to think there was something the matter.
Well, sir, I took his things to-night, and was in the act of leaving the
room, when he called me back. 'I'm going out early for a swim in the sea
to-morrow morning,' he said, 'but I shan't say anything to Sir Richard
Hatteras about it, because I happen to know that he thinks the currents
about here are dangerous. Well, one never knows what may turn up,' he
goes on to say, 'and if, by any chance, Henry--though I hope such a
thing will not happen--I should be caught, and should not return, I want
you to give this letter to Sir Richard. But remember this, you are on no
account to touch it until mid-day. Do you understand?' I told him that I
did, but I was so frightened, sir, by what he said, that I made up my
mind to come and see you at once."
This was disturbing intelligence indeed. From what he said there could
be no doubt that the Don and Glenbarth contemplated fighting a duel. In
that case what was to be done? To attempt to reason with the Duke in his
present humour would be absurd, besides his honour was at stake, and,
though I am totally against duels, that counts for something.
"I am glad you told me this, Henry," I said, "for now I shall know how
to act. Don't worry about your master's safety. Leave him to me. He is
safe in my hands. He shall have his swim to-morrow morning, but I shall
take very good care that he is watched. You may go to bed with an easy
heart, and don't think about that letter. It will not be needed, for he
will come to no harm."
The man thanked me civilly and withdrew, considerably relieved in his
mind by his interview with me. Then I sat myself down to think the
matter out. What was I to do? Doubtless the Don was an experienced
duellist, while Glenbarth, though a very fair shot with a rifle or
fowling-piece, would have no chance against him with the pistol or the
sword. It was by no means an enviable position for a man to be placed
in, and I fully realized my responsibility in the matter. I felt that I
needed help, but to whom should I apply for it? The Dean would be worse
than useless; while to go to the Don and to ask him to sacrifice his
honour to our friendship for Glenbarth would be to run the risk of being
shown the door. Then I thought of Nikola, and made up my mind to go to
him at once. Since the Duke had spoken of leaving the hotel early in the
morning, there could be no doubt as to the hour of the meeting. In that
case there was no time to be lost. I thereupon went to explain matters
to my wife.
"I had a suspicion that this would happen," she said, when she had heard
me out. "Oh, Dick! you must stop it without fail. I should never forgive
myself if anything were to happen to him while he is our guest. Go to
Doctor Nikola at once and tell him everything, and implore him to help
us as he has helped us before."
Thus encouraged, I left her, and went back to my dressing-room to
complete my attire. This done I descended to the hall to endeavour to
obtain a gondola. Good fortune favoured me, for the American party who
had but lately arrived at the hotel, had just returned from the theatre.
I engaged the man who had brought them, and told him to take me to the
Palace Revecce with all possible speed.
"It's a late hour, Senor," he replied, "and I'd rather go anywhere than
to that house in the Rio del Consiglio."
"You will be well paid for your trouble and also for your fear," I
replied as I got into the boat.
Next moment we were on our way. A light was burning in Nikola's room as
we drew up at the palace steps. I bade the gondolier wait for me, and
to ensure his doing so, refused to pay him until my return. Then I rang
the bell, and was rewarded in a few minutes by hearing Nikola's
footsteps on the flag-stones of the courtyard. When the door opened he
was vastly surprised at seeing me; he soon recovered his equilibrium,
however. It took more than a small surprise to upset Nikola. He invited
me to enter.
"I hope there is nothing wrong," he said politely. "Otherwise how am I
to account for this late call?"
"Something is very wrong indeed," I said. "I have come to consult you,
and to ask for your assistance."
By this time he had reached his own room--that horrible room I
remembered so well.
"The fact of the matter is," I said, seating myself in the chair he
offered me as I spoke, "the Duke of Glenbarth and Don de Martinos have
arranged to fight a duel soon after daybreak."
"To fight a duel?" Nikola repeated. "So it has come to this, has it?
Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Surely it is needless for me to say," I replied. "I want you to help me
to stop it. You like the Duke, I know. Surely you will not allow that
brave young life to be sacrificed by that Spaniard?"
"From the way you speak it would appear that _you_ do not care for
Martinos?" Nikola replied.
"I frankly confess that I do not," I replied. "He was introduced to me
by a personal friend, but none of my party care very much for him. And
now this new affair only adds to our dislike. He insulted the Duke most
unwarrantably in my drawing-room last night, and this duel is the
result."
"Always the same, always the same," Nikola muttered to himself. "But the
end is coming, and his evil deeds will bear their own fruit." Then
turning to me, he said aloud--"Since you wish it, I will help you. Don
Jose is a magnificent shot, and he would place a bullet in the Duke's
anatomy wherever he might choose to receive it. The issue would never
for one moment be in doubt."
"But how do you know the Don is such a good shot?" I inquired with
considerable surprise, for until the moment that I had introduced them
to each other I had no idea that they had ever met.
"I know more about him than you think," he answered, fixing his
glittering eyes upon me. "But now to business. If they fight at daybreak
there is not much time to be lost."
He went to his writing-table at the other side of the room and wrote a
few lines on a sheet of note-paper. Placing it in an envelope he
inquired whether I had told my gondolier to wait. Upon my answering in
the affirmative, he left me and went down-stairs.
"What have you done?" I inquired when he returned.
"I have sent word to an agent I sometimes employ," he said. "He will
keep his eyes open. Now you had better get back to your hotel and to
bed. Sleep secure on my promise that the two men shall not fight. When
you are called, take the gondola you will find awaiting you outside the
hotel, and I will meet you at a certain place. Now let me wish you a
good-night."
He conducted me to the hall below and saw me into the gondola. Then
saying something to the gondolier that I did not catch, he bade me
adieu, and I returned to the hotel. Punctually at five o'clock I was
awakened by a tapping at my bedroom door. I dressed, donned a cloak, for
the morning was cold, and descended to the hall. The night watchman
informed me that a gondola was awaiting me at the steps, and conducted
me to it. Without a word I got in, and the little craft shot out into
the canal. We entered a narrow street on the other side, took two or
three turnings to right and left, and at last came to a standstill at
some steps that I had never noticed before. A tall figure, wrapped in a
black cloak, was awaiting us there. It was Nikola! Entering the gondola
he took his place at my side. Then once more we set off.
At the same moment, so Nikola informed me, Glenbarth was leaving the
hotel.