THE TRIAL.
It was a dark, wet, and cold night when Calabressa felt his way down the
gangway leading from the Admiralty Pier into the small Channel steamer
that lay slightly rolling at her moorings. Most of the passengers who
were already on board had got to leeward of the deck-cabins, and sat
huddled up there, undistinguishable bundles of rugs. For a time he
almost despaired of finding out Reitzei, but at last he was successful;
and he had to explain to this particular bundle of rugs that he had
changed his mind, and would himself travel with him to Naples.
It was a dirty night in crossing, and both suffered considerably; the
difference being that, as soon as they got into the smooth waters of
Calais harbor, Calabressa recovered himself directly, whereas Reitzei
remained an almost inanimate heap of wrappings, and had to be assisted
or shoved up the steep gangway into the glare of the officials' lamps.
Then, as soon as he had got into a compartment of the railway-carriage,
he rolled himself up in a corner, and sought to forget his sufferings in
sleep.
Calabressa was walking up and down on the platform. At length the bell
rung, and he was about to step into the compartment, when he found
himself preceded by a lady.
"I beg your pardon, madame," said he, politely, "but it is a carriage
for smokers."
"And if one wishes to smoke, one is permitted--is it not so?" said the
stranger, cheerfully.
Calabressa at once held open the door for her, and then followed. These
three had the compartment to themselves.
She was a young lady, good-looking, tall, bright-complexioned, with
brown eyes that had plenty of fire in them, and a pleasant smile that
showed brilliant teeth. Calabressa, sitting opposite her, judged that
she was an Austrian, from the number of bags and knickknacks she had,
all in red Russia leather, and from the number of trinkets she wore,
mostly of polished steel or silver. She opened a little tortoise-shell
cigarette-case, took out a cigarette, and gracefully accepted the light
that Calabressa offered her. By this time the train had started, and was
thundering through the night.
The young lady was very frank and affable; she talked to her companion
opposite--Reitzei being fast asleep--about a great many things; she lit
cigarette after cigarette. She spoke of her husband moreover; and
complained that he should have to go and fight in some one else's
quarrel. Why could not ladies who went to the tables at Monte Carlo keep
their temper, that a perfectly neutral third person should be summoned
to fight a duel on behalf of one of them?
"You are going to rejoin him, then, madame?" said Calabressa.
"Not at all," she said, laughing. "I have my own affairs."
After some time, she said, with quite a humorous smile,
"My dear sir, I hope I do not keep you from sleeping. But you are
puzzled about me; you think you have seen me before, but cannot tell
where."
"There you are perfectly right, madame."
"Think of the day before yesterday. You were crossing in the steamer.
You were so good as to suggest to a lady on board that nearer the centre
vessel would be safer for her--"
He stared at her again. Could this be the same lady who, on the day that
he crossed, was seated right at the stern of the steamer her brown hair
flying about with the wind, her white teeth flashing as she laughed and
joked with the sailors, her eyes full of life and merriment as she
pitched up and down? Calabressa, before the paroxysms of his woe
overtook him, had had the bravery to go and remonstrate with this young
lady, and to tell her she would be more comfortable nearer the middle of
the boat; but she had laughingly told him she was a sailor's daughter,
and was not afraid of the sea. Well, this handsome young lady opposite
certainly laughed like that other, but still--
"Oh," she said, "do I puzzle you with such a simple thing? My hair was
brown the day before yesterday, it is black to-day; is that a sufficient
disguise? _Pardieu_, when I went to a music-hall in London that same
night to see some stupid nonsense--bah! such stupid nonsense I have
never seen in the world--I went dressed as a man. Only for exercise, you
perceive: one does not need disguises in London."
Calabressa was becoming more and more mystified, and she saw it, and her
amusement increased.
"Come, my friend," she said, "you cannot deny that you also are
political?"
"I, madame?" said Calabressa, with great innocence.
"Oh yes. And you are not on the side of the big battalions, eh?"
"I declare to you, madame--"
She glanced at Reitzei.
"Your friend sleeps sound. Come, shall I tell you something? You did not
say a word, for example, when you stepped on shore, to a gentleman in a
big cloak who had a lantern--"
"Madame, I beg of you!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, also glancing at
Reitzei.
"What!" she said, laughing. "Then you have the honor of the acquaintance
of my old friend Biard? The rogue, to take a post like that! Oh, I think
my husband could speak more frankly with you; I can only guess."
"You are somewhat indiscreet, madame," said Calabressa, coldly.
"I indiscreet?" she said, flickering off the ash of her cigarette
with a finger of the small gloved hand. Then she said, with mock
seriousness, "How can one be indiscreet with a friend of the good man
Biard? Come, I will give you a lesson in sincerity. My husband is gone
to fight a duel, I told you; yes, but his enemy is a St. Petersburg
general who belonged to the Third Section. They should not let Russians
play at Monte Carlo; it is so easy to pick a quarrel with them. And now
about myself; you want to know what I am--what I am about. Ah, I
perceive it, monsieur. Well, this time, on the other hand, I shall be
discreet. But if you hear of something within a few weeks--if the whole
of the world begins to chatter about it--and you say, 'Well, that woman
had pluck'--then you can think of our little conversation during the
night. We must be getting near Amiens, is it not so?"
She took from her traveling-bag a small apparatus for showering
eau-de-cologne in spray, and with this sprinkled her forehead; afterward
removing the drops with a soft sponge, and smoothing her rebellious
black hair. Then she took out a tiny flask and cup of silver.
"Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many
cigarettes. I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company--"
"A thousand thanks, madame!" said Calabressa, who certainly did not
refuse. She took none herself; indeed, she had just time to put her
bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she,
bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous
farewell, got out and departed.
Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were
near Paris. By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to
show signs of animation.
"Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep," said Calabressa,
yawning, and stretching his arms.
"I have slept a little."
"You have slept all night--what more? What do you know, for example, of
the young lady who was in the carriage?"
"I saw her come in," Reitzei said, indifferently, "and I heard you
talking once or twice. What was she?"
"There you ask me a pretty question. My belief is that she was either
one of those Nihilist madwomen, or else the devil himself in a new
shape. At any rate, she had some good cognac."
"I should like some coffee now, Signor Calabressa; and you?"
"I would not refuse it."
Indeed, during all this journey to Naples, Calabressa and his companion
talked much more of the commonplace incidents and wants of travel than
of the graver matters that lay before them. Calabressa was especially
resolute in doing so. He did not like to look ahead. He kept reminding
himself that he was simply the agent of the Council; he was carrying out
their behests; the consequences were for others to deal with. He had
fulfilled his commission; he had procured sufficient proof of the
suspected conspiracy; if evil-doers were to be punished, was he
responsible? _Fiat justitia!_ he kept repeating to himself. He was
answerable to the Council alone. He had done his duty.
But from time to time--and especially when they were travelling at
night, and he was awake--a haunting dread possessed him. How should he
appear before these two women in Naples? His old friend Natalie
Berezolyi had been grievously wronged; she had suffered through long
years; but a wife forgets much when her husband is about to die. And a
daughter? Lind had been an affectionate father enough to this girl;
these two had been companions all her lifetime; recent incidents would
surely be forgotten in her terror over the fact that it was her own
appeal to the Council that had wrought her father's death. And then he,
Calabressa, what could he say? It was through him she had invoked these
unknown powers; it was his counsel that had taken her to Naples; and he
was the immediate instrument that would produce this tragic end.
He would not think of it. At the various places where they stopped he
worried about food and drink, and angrily haggled about hotel-bills: he
read innumerable stupid little newspapers from morning till night; he
smoked Reitzei nearly blind. At last they reached Naples.
Within an hour after their arrival Calabressa, alone, was in Tommaso's
wine-vaults talking to the ghoul-like occupant. A bell rung, faint and
muffled, in the distance; he passed to the back of the vaults, and lit a
candle that Tommaso handed him; then he followed what seemed, from the
rumble overhead, some kind of subterranean corridor. But at the end of
this long sub-way he began to ascend; then he reached some steps;
finally, he was on an ordinary staircase, with daylight around him, and
above him a landing with two doors, both shut.
Opening one of these doors, after having knocked thrice, he entered a
large, bare chamber which was occupied by three men, all seated at a
table which was covered with papers. One of them, Von Zoesch, rose.
"That is good; that is very well settled," he said to the other two. "It
is a good piece of work. Now here is this English business, and the
report of our wily friend, Calabressa. What is it, Calabressa? We had
your telegram; we have sent for Lind and Beratinsky; what more?"
"Excellency, I have fulfilled your commission, I hope with judgment,"
Calabressa said, his cap in his hand. "I believe it is clear that the
Englishman had that duty put upon him by fraudulent means."
"It is a pity if it be so; it will cost us some further trouble, and we
have other things to think about at present." Then he added, lightly,
"but it will please your young lady friend, Calabressa. Well?"
"Excellency, you forget it may not quite so well please her if it is
found that her father was in the conspiracy," said Calabressa,
submissively.
"Why not?" answered the bluff, tall soldier. "However, to the point,
Calabressa. What have you discovered? and your proofs."
"I have none, your Excellency; but I have brought with me one of the
four in the ballot who is willing to confess. Why is he willing to
confess?" said Calabressa, with a little triumphant smile; "because he
thinks the gentlemen of the Council know already."
"And you have frightened the poor devil, no doubt," said Von Zoesch,
laughing.
"I have on the contrary, assured him of pardon," said Calabressa,
gravely. It is within the powers you gave me, Excellency. I have pledged
my honor--"
"Oh yes, yes; very well. But do you mean to tell us, my good
Calabressa," said this tall man, speaking more seriously, "that you have
proof of these three--Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei--having combined to
impose on the Englishman? Not Lind, surely? Perhaps the other two--"
"Your Excellency, it is for you to investigate further and determine. I
will tell you how I proceeded. I went to the Englishman, and got minute
particulars of what occurred. I formed my own little story, my guess, my
theory. I got hold of Reitzei, and hinted that it was all known. On my
faith, he never thought of denying anything, he was so frightened! But
regard this, Excellency; I know nothing. I can give you the Englishman's
account; then, if you get that of Reitzei, and the two correspond, it is
a good proof that Reitzei is not lying in his confession. It is for you
to examine him, Excellency."'
"No, it is not for me," the ruddy-faced soldier-looking man said, and
then he turned to his two companions. The one was the Secretary
Granaglia: the other was a broad-shouldered, elderly man, with
strikingly handsome features of the modern Greek type, a pallid,
wax-like complexion, and thoughtful, impenetrable eyes. "Brother
Conventzi, I withdraw from this affair. I leave it in hands of the
Council; one of the accused was in former days my friend; it is not
right that I should interfere."
"And I also, Excellency," said Calabressa, eagerly. "I have fulfilled my
commission; may not I retire now also?"
"Brother Granaglia will take down your report in writing; then you are
free, my Calabressa. But you will take the summons of the Council to
your friend Reitzei; I suppose he will have to be examined before the
others arrive."
And so it came about that neither the General von Zoesch nor Calabressa
was present when the trial, if trial it could be called, took place.
There were no formalities. In this same big bare room seven members of
the Council sat at the table, Brother Conventz presiding, the Secretary
Granaglia at the foot, with writing-materials before him. Ferdinand Lind
and Beratinsky stood between them and the side-wall apparently
impassive. Reitzei was nearer the window, pallid, uneasy, his eyes
wandering about the room, but avoiding the place where his former
colleagues stood.
The President briefly stated the accusation against them, and read
Reitzei's account of his share in what had taken place. He asked if they
had anything to deny or to explain.
Beratinsky was the first to speak.
"Illustrious Brethren of the Council," he began, as if with some set
speech; but his color suddenly forsook him, and he halted and looked
helplessly round. Then he said, wildly, "I declare that I am innocent--I
say that I am innocent! I never should have thought of it, gentlemen. It
was Lind's suggestion; he wished to get rid of the man; I declare I had
nothing to gain. Gentlemen, judge for yourselves: what had I to gain?"
He looked from one to the other; the grave faces were mostly regarding
Granaglia, who was slowly and carefully putting the words down.
Then Lind spoke, clearly and coldly:
"I have nothing to deny. What I did was done in the interests of the
Society. My reward for my long services is that I am haled here like a
pickpocket. It is the second time; it will be the last. I have done,
now, with the labor of my life. You can reap the fruits of it. Do with
me what you please."
The President rose.
"The gentlemen may now retire; the decision of the Council will be
communicated to them hereafter."
A bell rung; Tommaso appeared; Lind and Beratinsky were conducted down
the stairs and through the dark corridor. In a few seconds Tommaso
returned, and performed a like office for Reitzei.
The deliberation of the Council were but of short duration. The guilt of
the accused was clear; and clear and positive was the penalty prescribed
by the articles of the Society. But, in consideration of the fact that
Beratinsky had been led into this affair by Lind, it was resolved to
offer him the alternative of his taking over the service from which
Brand was released. This afforded but a poor chance of escape, but
Beratinsky was in a desperate position. That same evening he accepted;
and the Secretary Granaglia was forthwith ordered to report the result
of these proceedings to England, and give certain instructions as to the
further conduct of business there.
The Secretary Granaglia performed this task with his usual equanimity.
He was merely a machine registering the decrees of the Council; it was
no affair of his to be concerned about the fate of Ferdinand Lind; he
had even forgotten the existence of the two women who had been patiently
waiting day after day at that hotel, alternately hoping and fearing to
learn what had occurred.