General Harding was not slow in transacting the business that carried
him to London. It was too important to admit of delay. Even the old
lawyer acknowledged this, after reading the quaint letter of the
brigand, and scrutinising its still more quaint enclosure.
Mr Lawson's Italian tour had given him experience to comprehend the
case--peculiar as it was--as also enabling him to recommend the steps
necessary to be taken.
Five thousand pounds could not well be entrusted to the post; nor yet
the management of such a delicate affair--in reality, not a matter of
mere fingers and hands, but of life and death. Even a confidential
clerk seemed scarce fit for the occasion; and after a short conference
between the lawyer and his client, it was determined that the son of the
former--Lawson fits--should go to Rome and place himself en rapport with
"Signor Jacopi." Who Signor Jacopi was could only be guessed at: in all
likelihood, that strange specimen of humanity who had presented himself
at Beechwood Park, with a reckless indifference either to kicking or
incarceration.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first train for Dover carried young Lawson en route for Rome, with a
portmanteau containing five thousand pounds in gold coin, stamped with
the graceful head of England's young Queen.
He thus went fully armed for an interview with Signor Jacopi.
Rome was reached, in due course, by rail and steam; and, within the ten
days stipulated for in the letter of the brigand, the Lincoln's Inn
lawyer might have been seen with a heavy bag in hand perambulating the
streets of the Eternal City, and inquiring for the _Strada Volturno_.
He found the place in some disorder. Instead of the cowled monks and
sleek silken-robed cardinals usually seen there--instead of grand
_galantuomos_ and gaily-dressed ladies--with here and there a sprinkling
of impertinent _sbirri_ and _gendarmerie_--he met men brave, of bold
aspect--honest withal--bearded, belted, in costumes half civic, half
military, armed to the teeth, and evidently masters of the situation.
He was not astonished to hear from these men the occasional cry, "Long
live the Roman Republic!" He had been prepared for this before leaving
England; and it was only by a well-attested passport that he had been
enabled to pass their lines and set foot upon the pavement of the
seven-hilled city, at that moment threatened with siege.
Once in its streets, however, he no longer met any obstruction; and,
without loss of time, he commenced searching for Signor Jacopi.
He had very little difficulty in finding the _Strada Volturno_, and
still less the domicile numbered 9. The men with long beards, and
pistols stuck in their belts, were not morose, nor yet ill-disposed to
the answering of his questions. They seemed rather to take a pleasure
in directing him, with that hearty readiness that marks the intercourse
of those who have been engaged in a successful revolution. He did not
ask for the residence of Signor Jacopi; only for the street and the
number. Once at the door, it would be time enough to pronounce the name
of the mysterious individual to whom he was about to deliver a load of
golden coins. He had been constantly changing them from arm to arm, and
they had almost dragged his elbows out of joint. Without further
difficulty than this, he at length reached the _Strada Volturno_--a
paltry street as it proved--and discovered at Number 9 the residence of
Signor Jacopi.
He needed not to inquire. There could be no mistake as to the owner of
the domicile. His name was lettered upon the door, "Signor Jacopi."
The door was close shut and bolted, as if Signor Jacopi could only be
seen with some difficulty. The London solicitor knocked, and waited for
its opening.
He was, not without some curiosity to make the acquaintance of a member
of the fraternity whose practice was of such a peculiar kind; who could
demand payment of five thousand pounds, and get it without any appeal to
a court--either to judge or jury. So unlike the practice of Lincoln's
Inn!
The door was at length opened--not until the knock was repeated; a hag,
who appeared at least seventy years old, being the tardy janitrix. But
this need not dismay a solicitor of Lincoln's Inn Fields. She was no
doubt the housekeeper of the premises.
"Does Signor Jacopi live here?" asked the young English lawyer; who,
having accompanied his father on the Italian tour, was able to make his
inquiries comprehensible.
"No," was the laconic response.
"_No_! His name is on the door."
"Ah, true!" responded the old woman, with something like a sigh. "They
haven't taken it off yet. It's no business of mine. I'm only here to
take care of the house."
"Do you mean that the Signor Jacopi doesn't live here any longer?"
"_E cosi_! What a question to ask! You are jesting, signor."
"Jesting! No; I am in earnest--never more so in my life. I have
important business with him."
"Business with Signor Jacopi! _Madonna Virgine_!" added the old woman,
in a tone of consternation, and making the sign of the Cross.
"Certainly I have. And what is there strange in it?"
"Business with a dead man! That's strange, is it not?"
"Dead! Do you mean to say that Signor Jacopi is dead?"
"_Si_, signor; surely you know that? Don't everybody know that he was
killed in the outbreak--the very first day; knocked down, and then taken
up again, and then hanged upon a lamp, because they said he was one of
the--Oh, signor, I can't tell you what they said about him. I only know
they killed him; and he's dead; and I've been put here to keep the
house. That's all I know about it."
The young Lincoln's Inn lawyer let his bag of gold drop heavily upon the
doorstep. He felt that he had come to Rome upon an idle errand.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
And an idle errand it proved. All he could learn of the Signor Jacopi
was, that this individual was an Algerine Jew, who had settled in the
Holy City and embraced the Holy Faith; that he had practised law--that
department of it which in London would have entitled him to the
appellation of a "thieves' lawyer;" that, furthermore, he was accustomed
to long and mysterious absences from his office; but where, or
wherefore, there was none to tell, since no one could be found who
professed intimacy with him.
In consequence of some unexplained act, he had made himself obnoxious to
the mob--during the first hours of the revolutionary outbreak--and had
fallen a victim to their fury. These, and a few other like facts, were
all that the London lawyer could learn about his professional brother of
Rome. But not one item of information to assist him in the errand upon
which he had been sent to the Eternal City.