have told me."
"He has been dancing to show _me_. And oh! so beautifully, with bounds
and leaps. He makes of himself also a statue," pursued Carmela.
"But I cannot have any buffoonery here, you know," said Miss Senter. "It
would not do."
"Buffoonery! Surely the signorina knows that Ercole has the soul of a
gentleman," whispered Carmela, reproachfully.
And it was true that Miss Senter had always thought that her chief
gondolier possessed a great deal of natural refinement.
"Will the signorina step out for a moment and look at him?" pursued the
deputy, her whisper now a little dejected. "If he is to be disappointed,
poor fellow, may he at least have _that_ pleasure?"
The idea of the gondolier's disappointment touched the amiable American.
She turned her head and glanced into the drawing-room; all was going on
gayly; no one had missed her. She slipped out under the portiere, and
followed Carmela to a room at the side. Here stood the gondolier. He
wore the usual white dress and white mask of a clown, and, as the
Consuless entered, he cut a splendid caper, ringing all his bells.
"I had no idea that you were such a skilful acrobat, Ercole," said his
mistress.
Ercole turned a light somerset, gave a high jump, and came down in the
attitude of the Mercury of John of Bologna.
"Why, you are really wonderful!" said Miss Senter, admiringly.
And now he was dancing with butterfly grace.
Miss Senter was won. "But if I let you come in, Ercole, I hope you will
remember where you are?" she said, warningly. "Can you breathe quite at
ease in that mask?"
The gondolier opened his grotesque painted lips a little to show that he
could part them.
"Yes, I see. Now listen; in the drawing-room you must keep your eye on
me, and if at any time you see me raise my hand--so--you must dance out
of the room, Ercole. For the sign will mean that that is enough. But,
dear me! there's one thing we haven't thought of; who is to see to the
musicians up-stairs, and to go back and forth, telling them what to
play?"
"I can do that," said Carmela, who was now all smiles. "Does the
signorina wish me to take them up? They are all ready. They are waiting
in the wood-room."
The wood-room was a remote store-room for fuel; it was detached from the
rest of the apartment. "Why did you put them _there_?" inquired Miss
Senter, astonished.
"They are musicians--yes; but who knows what else they may be? Thieves,
perhaps!" said the deputy, shrewdly.
"Get them out immediately and take them up to the gallery," said Miss
Senter. "And tell them to play something lively as a beginning."
Carmela, quick as usual, was gone before the words were ended.
"Now, Ercole, wait until you hear the music. Then come in," said the
Consuless.
She returned to the drawing-room, making a motion with her hands as she
advanced, which indicated that her guests were to move a little more
towards the walls on each side, leaving the centre of the room free. And
then, as the music burst out above, Ercole came bounding in. His dress
was ordinary; Miss Senter was vexed anew that he had not told her of his
plan, for if he had she could have provided a perfectly fresh costume.
But no one noticed the costume; all eyes were fixed upon the gambols;
for, keeping time to the music, he was advancing up the room, dancing,
bounding, leaping, turning somersets, and every now and then striking an
attitude with extraordinary skill. He was so light that his white linen
feet made no sound, and so graceful that the fixed grin of his mask
became annoying, clashing as it did with the beauty of his poses. This
thought, however, came to the elders only; for to the children,
fascinated, shouting with delight, the broad red smile was an important
part.
"It's our gondolier," explained Miss Senter. "It's Ercole," she had
whispered to her brother.
"You are always so fortunate in servants," said Lady Kay. "That little
woman you have, too, Carmela--she is a miracle for an Italian."
Four times the clown made his pyrotechnic progress up and then down the
long salon, never twice repeating the same pose, but always something
new; then, after a final tremendous pigeon-wing, he let his white arms
fall and his white head droop on his breast, as if saying that he was
taking a moment for repose.
"Yes, yes; give him time to breathe, children," cried Peter. "I'll tell
you what," he added to Sir William Kay; "I've never seen a better
performance on any stage." And he slapped his leg in confirmation. The
Consul was a man whose sole claim to beauty lay in the fact that he
always looked extremely clean. He was meagre and small, with very short
legs, but he was without consciousness of these deficiencies; in the
presence of the Apollo Belvedere, for instance, it had never occurred to
him to draw comparisons. Nature, however, will out in some way, and from
childhood Peter Senter had had a profound admiration for feats of
strength, vaulting, tumbling, and the like. "I'll tell you what," he
repeated to Sir William; "I'll have the fellow exhibited; I'll start him
at my own cost. Here all this time--two whole years--he has been our
gondolier, Ercoly has, and nothing more; for I hadn't a suspicion that
he had the least talent in this line. But, sir, he's a regular
high-flier! And A Number One!"
Meanwhile the children were crowding closely round their clown, and
peering up in order still to see his grin, which was now partly hidden,
owing to his drooped head; the three Kings of Orient, especially, were
very pressing in their attentions, pinching his legs to see if they were
real.
"Come, children, this will be a good time for our second song," said
Miss Senter, making a diversion. "Take hands, now, in a circle;
yes--round the clown, if you wish. There--that's right." She signalled
to the music to stop, and then, beginning, led the little singers
herself:
"Though we're here on foreign shores,
We are all devotion
To our land of Stars and Stripes,
Far across the ocean.
Yankee doodle doodle doo,
Yankee doodle dandy,
Buckwheat cakes are very good,
And so's molasses candy."
Singing this gayly to the well-known fife-like tune, round and round
danced the children in a circle, holding each other's hands, the English
and Italians generously joining with the little Americans in praise of
the matutinal cakes which they had never seen; the Consuless had drilled
her choir beforehand, and they sang merrily and well. The first four
lines of this ditty had been composed by Peter himself for the occasion.
"I hear _you_ haf written this vurra fine piece!" said a Russian
princess, addressing him.
"Oh no," answered the Consul; "I only wrote the first four lines; the
chorus is one of our national songs, you know."
"But those first four lines--their sentiment ees so fine, so speerited!"
said the princess.
"Well, they're _neat_," Peter admitted, modestly.
The clown, having recovered his breath, cut a caper. Instantly "Yankee
Doodle" came to an end, and the children all stopped to watch him.
"Tell them to play a waltz," said Miss Senter to Carmela, who was in
waiting at the door. The deputy must have flown up the little stairway
leading to the gallery, for the waltz began in less than a minute. Then
Ercole, selecting a pretty American child from among the group, began to
dance with her in the most charming way, followed by all the little
ones, two and two. Those who could waltz, did so; those who could not,
held each other's hands and hopped about.
Supper followed. The hot things were smoking and delicious, and the
supplies constantly renewed; old Giorgio was evidently on his mettle. It
was the gondolier, still in his clown's dress, who brought in these
supplies and handed them to the waiters from Florian's.
"You need not do that, Ercole," said Miss Senter, in an undertone;
"these men can go to the kitchen for them."
Ercole bowed; it would not have been respectful to reply with his
grinning linen lips. But he continued to fill the same office.
"Perhaps Giorgio won't have Florian's people in the kitchen!" the
Consuless reflected.
As soon as supper was over, the children clamored for their clown, and
he came bounding in a second time, and, after several astonishing
capers, selected a beautiful English child with long golden curls and
led a galop, followed again by all the others, two and two. Peter, his
mind still occupied with his project of taking the young Italian to
America as a star performer, moved from point to point, in order to get
different views of him. One of these stations was in the doorway, and
here Carmela spoke to him in a low tone, and asked him to come to the
outer hall. He did not understand her words; but he comprehended her
gesture and followed her. She was talking angrily, almost spluttering,
as she led the way. But her talk was lost on her master, who, however,
opened his eyes when he saw four policemen standing at his outer door.
"What do you want here?" he said. "This is a private residence, and you
are disturbing a Christmas party."
The chief officer told his tale. But Peter did not comprehend him.
"You should have gone to the Consulate," he went on. "The Consulate, you
know--Riva Skevony. The vice-consul won't be there so late as this; but
you'll find him early to-morrow morning, sure."
The policemen, however, remained where they were.
"There's no making them understand a word," said Peter to himself, in
irritation. "Here, you go and call my sister," he said to Carmela, who,
in her wrath over this intrusion, stood at a distance swallowing nothing
in a series of gulps that made her throat twitch. "Let's see; sister,
that's sorelly. Sorelly!" he repeated to Carmela. "Sorelly!"
The enraged little deputy understood. And she got Miss Senter out of the
drawing-room without attracting notice. "The master wishes to see the
signorina," she said, in a concentrated undertone. "I burn with
indignation, for it is an insolent intrusion; it is an insult to his
Excellency, who no doubt is a prince in his own country. But they
_would_ not go, in spite of all I could say. Nor would they tell me
their errand--brutes!" And with her skirts quivering she led the way to
the outer hall.
"Find out what these men want, Barly," said Peter, when his sister
appeared.
And then the chief officer again told his story.
"Mercy!" said Miss Senter, "how dreadful. Somebody was killed, Peter,
about seven o'clock this evening, in a cafe near the Rialto, and they
say they have just found a clew which appears to track the assassin to
this very door! And they wish to search."
"What an absurd idea! With the whole place crowded and blazing with
lights, as it is to-night, a mouse couldn't hide," said Peter. "Tell
them so."
"They repeat that they must search," said Miss Senter. "But if you will
exert your authority, Peter--make use of your official position--I am
sure we need not submit to such a thing."
Peter, however, was helpless without his vice-consul; he had no clear
idea as to what his powers were or were not; he had never informed
himself.
Carmela, greatly excited, had drawn Miss Senter aside. "There was a
sixth man with those musicians!" she whispered. "I saw him. He did not
play, but he sat behind them. And he has only just gone. Five minutes
ago."
Miss Senter repeated the information to the chief officer. The officer
immediately detached two men to follow this important clew; he himself,
with the third, would remain to go through the apartment, as a matter of
form.
"As the rooms are all open and lighted," said Miss Senter in English to
her brother, "it will only take a few minutes, if go they must, and no
one need know anything about it. But whom shall we send with them? If we
call Ercole, it will attract attention; and Florian's men, who were due
at another place, have already gone. We could have Andrea come up. But
no; Giorgio will do best of all. Call Giorgio to go with these men," she
added in Italian to Carmela.
"Let _me_ conduct them!" answered the deputy.
"Yes; on the whole, she will be better than any one," said Miss Senter
to Peter. "She is so angry at what she calls the insult to you, and so
excited about the mysterious person who was with the musicians, that she
will bully them and hurry them off to look for him in no time. They can
begin with a peep into the drawing-room; I'll tell them to keep
themselves hidden." She turned and explained her idea in Italian to the
officer; they could glance into the drawing-room first, and then Carmela
would take them through all the other rooms; the Consul, though he had
the power of refusal, would permit this liberty in the cause of justice.
Their search, however, would be unavailing; under the circumstances, it
was impossible that any one should have taken refuge there, unless it
was that one extra man who had been admitted with the musicians to the
gallery. And he was already gone.
"Perhaps he only pretended to go?" suggested the officer. "With
permission, I will lock this door." And he did so.
[Illustration: "A SMALL CHILD PERCHED ON EACH OF HIS SHOULDERS"]
They went to the drawing-room, the policemen moving quietly, close to
the wall. When the last anteroom was reached, the two men hid themselves
behind the tapestries that draped the door, and, making loop-holes among
the folds, peeped into the ball-room. For it was at that moment a
ball-room. The children had again taken up their whirling dance around
Ercole, and the gondolier, who had now a small child perched on each of
his shoulders, was singing with them in a clear tenor, having caught
the syllables from having heard them shouted about fifty times:
"Yankee dooda dooda doo,
Yankee dooda dandee,
Barkeet cakar vera goo,
Arso molarsa candee."
Miss Senter had sent Peter back to his guests. She herself, standing
between the tapestries as though she were looking on from the doorway,
named to the hidden policemen, as well as she could amid the loud
singing within, all the persons present, one by one. Finally her list
came to a close. "And that is Mr. Barlow, the American who lives at the
Danieli; and the one near the Christmas-tree is Mr. Douglas, who has the
Palazzo Dario. And the tall, large gentleman with silver hair is Sir
William Kay. That is all, except the clown, who is our gondolier, and
the five musicians up in the gallery; can you see them from here? If
not, Carmela can take you up." And then she thought, with a sudden
little shudder, that perhaps the officer's idea was not, after all,
impossible; perhaps, indeed, that extra man had only pretended to go!
The policemen signified that this was enough as regarded the
drawing-room; they withdrew softly, and waited outside the door.
"Now take them through all the other rooms, Carmela," whispered the
Consuless. "Be as quiet about it as you can, so that no one need know.
And when they have finally gone, come and stand for a moment between
these curtains, as a sign. If, by any chance, they _should_ discover any
one--"
"The signorina need not be frightened; I saw the man go myself! And he
could not have re-entered without my knowledge. As for these beasts of
policemen--" And Carmela's eyes flashed, while her set lips seemed to
say, "Trust _me_ to hustle them out!"
"Run up first and tell the musicians to play the music I sent them,"
said the Consuless. And then she rejoined her guests.
For the next dance was to be a Virginia Reel, and some of the elders
were to join the children; the two lines, when arranged, extended down
half the length of the long room. It began with great spirit, the clown
and the three Kings of Orient dancing at the end of the file.
"It is really Sir Roger de Coverley, an English dance," said Lady Kay to
the Russian princess, who was looking on from the chair next her own.
"But the Senters like to call it a Virginia Reel, they are so patriotic.
And we never contradict the Senters, you know," added the English lady,
laughing; "we let them have their way."
"It seems to me a vurra good way," answered the princess, who was a
plain-looking old woman with a charming smile. "I have nowhere seen so
many reech toyees" (here she glanced at the costly playthings heaped on
a table near by). "Nor haf I, in _Italy_, seen so many tings to eat.
With so moche champagne."
"Yes, they always do that," answered the baronet's wife. "They are so
very lavish. And very kind."
Miss Senter herself was dancing the reel. Once she thought there was a
quaver in the music, and, glancing up quickly towards the gallery, she
perceived the heads of the policemen behind the players. The players,
however, recovered themselves immediately, and upon looking up again a
moment afterwards she saw with relief that the sinister apparition had
vanished. Ten minutes later the trim little figure of the deputy
appeared between the tapestries of the doorway. Miss Senter, still
dancing, nodded slightly, as a signal that she perceived her, and then
Carmela, with an answering nod and one admiring look at Ercole,
disappeared. After all, now that there had been a suspicion about that
extra man, it _was_ a comfort to have had the apartment searched; it
would make the moment of going to bed easier, the American lady
reflected.
It was now half-past eleven. By midnight the last sleepy child had been
carried down the marble stairway, the music ceased, and the musicians
departed. The elders, glad that the noise was over, remained half an
hour longer; then they took leave. Only Lady Kay and her husband were
left; they had waited to take a closer look at Miss Senter's Christmas
present to her brother, which was a large and beautifully executed copy
of Tintoretto's "Bacchus and Ariadne," from the Anticollegio of the
Doge's Palace. It had been placed temporarily on the wall behind the
Christmas-tree.
"How exquisite!" said Lady Kay, with a long sigh. "You are most
fortunate, Mr. Senter."
"Oh yes. Though I don't quite know what they will think of it in
Rochester, New York," answered Peter, chuckling.
Sir William and his wife intended to walk home. When it was cold they
preferred to walk rather than go to and fro in a gondola; and as they
were old residents, they knew every turn of the intricate burrowing
chinks in all the quarters that serve as footways. When they took leave
at one o'clock, Peter and Miss Senter, with American friendliness,
accompanied them to the outer door. Peter was about to open this door
when it was swung back, and a figure reeled in--Ercole. He had taken off
his clown's dress, and wore now his gondolier's costume; but this
costume was in disorder, and his face was darkly red--a purple red.
"Why, Ercole, is it you? What is the matter?" said Miss Senter, as he
staggered against the wall.
"Oh, her Excellency the Consuless, I have been _beaten_!"
"Beaten? Where have you been? I thought you were down at the landing
with Andrea," said Miss Senter.
"The antiquity-dealer suffocates," muttered Ercole. "And Giorgio--dead!"
This "dead" (_morto!_) even Peter understood. "Dead! What is he saying,
Barly?"
"The man is saying, Mr. Senter, that an antiquity-dealer is suffocating,
and that somebody he calls Giorgio is dead," translated the
pink-cheeked, portly Lady Kay, in her sweet voice. "It's your gondolier,
isn't it--the one who played the clown so nicely? What a pity! He has
been drinking, I fear."
While she was saying this, Sir William was leading Ercole farther away
from the ladies.
"Yes, he is drunk," said Peter, looking at him. "Too bad! We must have
help. Let's see; Andrea is down at the landing. I'll get him. And you
call Giorgio, Barly."
Here Ercole, held by Sir William, gave a maddened cry, and threw his
head about violently.
"Oh, don't leave my husband alone with him, Mr. Senter," said Lady Kay,
alarmed. "He is a very powerful young man, and his eyes are dreadful.
To me he looks as if he were mad. Those somersaults have affected his
head."
And the gondolier's eyes were indeed strangely bloodshot and wild. Miss
Senter had hurried to the kitchen. But Giorgio was not there. She came
back, and found Ercole struggling with the Englishman and her brother.
"Let me try," she said. "I am not afraid of him. Ercole," she continued,
speaking gently in Italian, "go to your room now, and go to bed quietly;
everything will be all right to-morrow."
Ercole writhed in Sir William's grasp. "The antiquity-dealer! And
Giorgio--dead!"
"Where is Giorgio, Barly?" said Peter, angrily, as he helped Sir William
in securing the gondolier. "And where are the other servants? Where's
Carmela? Find them, and send one down to the landing for Andrea, and the
other for Giorgio. Quick!"
"Oh, Peter, I've been, and I couldn't find Giorgio or any one."
"Carmela was in your bedroom not long ago," said Lady Kay, watching the
gondolier's contortions nervously; "she helped me put on my cloak."
Miss Senter ran to her bedroom, her train flying in the haste she made.
But in a moment she was back again. "There is no one there. Oh, where
are they all?"
Ercole, hearing her voice, peered at her with his crimsoned eyes, and
then, breaking loose suddenly, he came and caught hold of her arm. "The
antiquity-room. _Will_ she come?"
Peter and Sir William dragged him away by main force.
"The gentlemen, then. Will _they_ come?" said the gondolier, hoarsely.
And again freeing himself with two strokes of his powerful arms, he
passed out (for the door was still open), and began to descend the
outside staircase.
"Oh, thank Heaven, he has gone!" "Oh, lock the door!" cried the two
ladies together.
"We must follow him, Mr. Senter," said Sir William. "He is plainly mad
from drink, and may do some harm."
"Yes; and down there Andrea can help us," answered Peter.
And the two gentlemen hastened down the staircase. It was a very long
flight with three turns. The court below was brilliantly lighted by many
wall lamps.
"I _don't_ like my husband's going down," said Lady Kay, in a tremor, as
she stood on the landing outside. "If they are going to seize him, the
more of us the better; don't you think so? For while they are holding
him, you and I could run across and get that other man in from the
riva."
But Miss Senter was not there. She had rushed back into the house, and
was now calling with all her strength: "Giorgio! Carmela! Assunta!
Beppa!" There was no answer, and, seized with a fresh panic by the
strangeness of this silence, she hastened out again and joined Lady Kay,
who was already half-way down the stairs. The gondolier had not turned
towards the water entrance; he had crossed the court in the opposite
direction, and now he was passing through a broad, low door which led
into the hall on the ground-floor behind the show-room of Z. Pelham,
throwing open as he did so both wings of this entrance, so that the
light from the court entered in a broad beam across the stone pavement.
"My dear, _don't_ go in!" "Oh, Peter, stop! stop!" cried the two ladies,
as they breathlessly descended the last flight.
But Peter and Sir William had paid no attention. Quickly detaching two
of the lamps from the wall, they had followed the madman.
"The other gondolier!" gasped Lady Kay.
And the two women ran swiftly to the water-door and threw it open, Miss
Senter calling, in Italian: "Andrea! come _instantly_!"
The little riva along the small canal was also brightly lighted. But
there was no one there. And opposite there was only a long blank wall.
"Oh, we must not leave them a moment longer," said Lady Kay.
And again they rushed across the broad court, this time entering the
dark water-story; for it was better to enter, dreadful though it was,
than to remain outside, not knowing what might be happening within.
Ercole meanwhile had made his way into Mr. Pelham's show-room, and here
he had struck a match and lighted a candle. As he had left the door of
the show-room open, those who were without could see him, and they
stopped for a moment to watch what he would do next. It was now a group
of four, for the ladies had joined the other two, Miss Senter whispering
to her brother:
"Andrea isn't there!"
The gondolier bent down, and began to drag something across the floor
and out to the open space behind. "Here!" he said, turning his purple
face towards their lamps. "I can no more." And he sat down suddenly on
the pavement, and let his head and arms fall forward over his knees.