"Why is Borselli here? I had no idea he was to be a guest!"
"Ah! I know you don't like the fellow," she remarked, glancing back
into the room. "Neither do I. He is my father's evil genius, I
believe."
"What makes you suspect that?" inquired the Frenchman, with considerable
interest.
"Several circumstances," was her vague response, as she twisted her
curious old snake bracelet, a genuine sixteenth-century ornament which
she had bought one day in a shop on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.
"You mistrust him--eh?"
"He poses as my father's friend, but I believe that all the time he is
jealous of his position and is his bitterest enemy."
"But they are very old friends, are they not?"
"Oh yes. The general owes his present position entirely to my father;
otherwise he would now be in garrison in some obscure country town."
"I only wish he were," declared Dubard fervently. "He is jealous of our
friendship. Did you notice how he glared at me while you were singing?"
"And yet at table you were such good friends," she laughed.
"It is not polite to exhibit ill-feeling in a friend's house,
mademoiselle," was his calm response. "Yet I admit that I entertain no
greater affection for the fellow than you do."
"But why should he object to our friendship?" she exclaimed. "If he
were unmarried, and in love with me, it would of course be different."
"No," he said. "He hates me."
"Why?"
Jules Dubard was silent, his dark eyes were fixed away across the
moon-lit lawn.
"Why?" she repeated. "Tell me!"
"Well, he has cause to hate me--that's all," and he smiled mysteriously.
"But he's a dangerous man," she declared, with quick apprehension. "You
probably don't know so much of him as I do. He would betray his own
father if it suited his purpose."
"I know," laughed the man drily. "I've heard sufficient stories
concerning him to be quite well aware of his unscrupulous character. It
is a thousand pities that he is an associate of your father's."
"Ah yes!" she sighed. "But how can it be avoided? They are in office
in the same ministry, and are bound to be in constant touch with each
other. The only thing I fear is that he has, by some intrigue,
contrived to get my father in his power," she said confidentially.
"How? What causes you to suspect such a thing?" he inquired quickly.
"Because once or twice of late I have noticed how when he has called in
Rome and in Florence my father has been disinclined to see him, and that
after the fellow's departure he has seemed very thoughtful and
preoccupied. More than once, too, I've heard high words between them
when they've been closeted together in the study in Rome. I once heard
him threaten my father," she added.
"Threaten him!" cried her companion quickly. "What did the man say?
Tell me." All that the girl was telling him was confirming what, in his
heart, he already suspected.
"Well," she said, in a low voice of confidence, "it was early one
morning, after the last court ball, and he had driven home with us.
Afterwards my father had taken him to the study, and I had said
good-night, when, on going to my room half an hour later, I found my
maid very unwell. Therefore I went down again, intending to get from
the study the key of the medicine cupboard, when I heard voices within,
and naturally stopped to listen. I heard my father say distinctly, `I
won't. I'll never be a party to such a piece of audacious robbery--why,
it's treason--treason, do you hear? No, Angelo, not even you can induce
me to betray my country!' Then in reply I heard the general say, `Very
well. I have told you the course I intend to adopt. Your refusal
places me in a critical situation, and I shall therefore save myself.'
`At my expense?' asked my father in a low, hoarse voice. `Yes,' the man
replied. `I shall certainly not fall without an effort to retain my
place, my liberty, depend upon it. And when the truth is out regarding
the Sazarac affair, this high moral standard that you are now adopting
will avail you but little.' Then there was a silence. At last my
father asked in a tone of reproach, `You actually intend to betray me,
Angelo?--you, who owe your rank, your position, everything to me! Tell
me, you are surely joking?' `No,' replied the fellow, `I am in earnest.
You must act as I have suggested, or take the consequences'?"
"You are certain--quite certain--that Borselli mentioned the Sazarac
affair?" asked the Frenchman, in deep earnestness and surprise. "I mean
that you distinctly heard the name of Sazarac mentioned?"
"Distinctly. Why?"
But the Frenchman made no reply. How could he tell her? What she had
related revealed to him a strange and startling truth--a truth which
held him amazed, aghast.