"Yes, I knew him once. But what you tell me seems utterly impossible.
He was the very last man to betray Italy."
"They say that a woman induced him to prepare the plans," remarked the
Frenchman. "But how far that is true I have no idea."
Mary's face was paler than before. Her brows were contracted, and in
her dark, luminous eyes was a look of quick determination.
"Is my father aware of all this?" she demanded.
"Undoubtedly. He, of course, must have signed the decree dismissing
Solaro from the army. I believe the matter is being kept as quiet as
possible, but unfortunately the Socialists have somehow obtained
knowledge of the true facts, and will go to the country with the cry
that Italy, under the present Cabinet, is in danger." Then, after a
slight pause, he went on, "I look upon your father as my friend, you
know, signorina, therefore I think he ought to know the plot being
formed against him. They intend to make certain distinct charges
against him, of bribery, of receiving money from contractors who have
supplied inferior goods, and of being directly responsible for the
recent reverses in Abyssinia. If they do--" Pausing, he elevated his
shoulders without concluding the sentence.
"But it is impossible, Count Dubard, that the man you name could have
sold our military secrets?"
"You know him sufficiently well, then, to be aware of his loyalty?"
sniffed her companion suspiciously.
"I know that he would never be guilty of an act of treason," she
answered quickly. "Therefore if he really has been convicted of such an
offence, he must be the victim himself of some conspiracy."
The count regarded her heated declaration as the involuntary
demonstration of a bond of friendship, and looked into her eyes in
undisguised wonder. She stood facing him, her white hand upon the
broken marble of an ancient vase, yellow and worn smooth by time.
"You appear to repose the utmost confidence in him," he remarked,
surprised. "Why?"
"Because I am certain that he has fallen the victim of a plot," she
declared, her face hard set and desperate. "If those enemies of my
father's are endeavouring so cleverly to oust him from office, is it not
quite feasible that they have laid the blame purposely upon Captain
Solaro?"
"Why purposely?"
She paused, and again his eyes met hers.
"Because they knew that if Captain Solaro were accused," she said
slowly, "my father, as Minister, would show him no clemency."
"Why?"
"There is a reason," she responded hoarsely, adding, "I know that he is
innocent--he _must_ be innocent."
"But he has been tried by a competent court-martial, and found guilty,"
remarked her companion.
"With closed doors?"
"And is not that the usual procedure in cases of grave offence? It
would never do for the public to learn that the loyalty of Italy's
officers had been found wanting. That would shake the confidence of the
country."
"And yet my father's enemies are preparing to strike a crushing blow at
him by making capital out of it?" she exclaimed. "Ah yes. I see--I see
it all!" she cried. "It is a vile, despicable conspiracy which has sent
to prison in disgrace an innocent man--a second case of Dreyfus!"
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders but made no reply.
"You said that a woman's name had been mentioned in connection with the
affair," she went on. "Was her name Nodari--Filomena Nodari--and does
she not live in Bologna?"
Her companion's lips pressed themselves together, but so slightly that
she did not notice the almost imperceptible expression of annoyance upon
his face.
"I do not know," he declared. "I merely heard that there was a woman in
the case, and that she had given certain evidence before the military
court that left no doubt of the guilt of the accused. But," he added,
half apologetically, "I had no idea, signorina, that Solaro was a friend
of yours."
"Oh, he is not a friend, only an acquaintance," she protested.
"Then why are you so intensely interested in his welfare?" he inquired.
"Because I have certain reasons. An injustice has been done, and I
shall at once ask my father to have the most searching inquiry made. He
will do so, if it is my wish," she added confidently.
"Then you intend to champion the cause of the man who is accused of
being a traitor to Italy?" remarked the wily Parisian, regarding her
furtively as he spoke. "I fear, signorina, if you adopt any such course
you will only place in the hands of your father's enemies a further
weapon against him. No; if you desire to assist His Excellency at this
very critical moment, you must refrain from taking any action which they
could construe into your own desire, or your father's intention, to
liberate the man who is convicted of having sold his country to its
enemy."
"But it is unjust! He is innocent."
"Be that how it may, your duty surely is to help your father, not to act
in a manner which would convince the public that he had connived at the
sale of the military secrets of Tresenta."
Her dark eyes fixed themselves upon the distant towers and cupolas of
Florence, down where the grey mists were now rising. They were filled
with tears, and her chest beneath her laces heaved slowly and then fell
again.
And the man lounging at her side with studied grace laughed within
himself, triumphant at his own clever diplomacy.