{"collection":"ritual-magic","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39906/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39906","id":"gutenberg_39906","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39906","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Crime, Thrillers and Mystery","Category: Novels","Occultism -- Fiction","Paranormal fiction","Venice (Italy) -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Suzanne Shell, Cathy Maxam, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n'FAREWELL, NIKOLA'\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \"He swept his fingers over the strings ... and commenced\nto sing.\" (Page 140.)]\n\n\n\n\n  'Farewell, Nikola'\n\n  BY\n\n  GUY BOOTHBY\n\n  AUTHOR OF 'DR. NIKOLA,' 'THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL,'\n  'PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN,' ETC.\n\n\n  ILLUSTRATED BY HAROLD PIFFARD\n\n\n  LONDON\n\n  WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED\n\n  NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE\n\n  1901\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                                PAGE\n\n  HE SWEPT HIS FINGERS OVER THE STRINGS ... AND\n  COMMENCED TO SING                                    _Frontispiece_\n\n  HE PRESSED A SPRING IN THE WALL                                 46\n\n  PRESENTLY A PICTURE SHAPED ITSELF IN THE CLOUD                 100\n\n  THROWING OPEN THE SECRET DOOR ... HE CONFRONTED\n  THEM                                                           177\n\n  HE LAID HIS HAND UPON HER FOREHEAD                             208\n\n  \"PUT DOWN YOUR PISTOLS,\" SAID NIKOLA                           249\n\n  HE CRAWLED UPON THE FLOOR LIKE A DOG                           273\n\n  SHE KNELT, WITH ARMS OUTSTRETCHED, IN SUPPLICATION             306\n\n\n\n\n'FAREWELL, NIKOLA'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nWe were in Venice; Venice the silent and mysterious; the one European\ncity of which I never tire. My wife had not enjoyed good health for some\nmonths past, and for this reason we had been wintering in Southern\nItaly. After that we had come slowly north, spending a month in\nFlorence, and a fortnight in Rome _en route_, until we found ourselves\nin Venice, occupying a suite of apartments at Galaghetti's famous hotel\noverlooking the Grand Canal. Our party was a small one; it consisted of\nmy wife, her friend, Gertrude Trevor, and myself, Richard Hatteras, once\nof the South Sea Islands, but now of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.\nIt may account for our fondness of Venice when I say that four years\nprevious we had spent the greater part of our honeymoon there. Whatever\nthe cause may have been, however, there could be no sort of doubt that\nthe grand old city, with its palaces and churches, its associations\nstretching back to long-forgotten centuries, and its silent waterways,\npossessed a great fascination for us. We were never tired of exploring\nit, finding something to interest us in even the most out-of-the-way\ncorners. In Miss Trevor we possessed a charming companion, a vital\nnecessity, as you will admit, when people travel together. She was an\nuncommon girl in more ways than one; a girl, so it seems to me, England\nalone is able to produce. She could not be described as a pretty girl,\nbut then the word \"pretty\" is one that sometimes comes perilously near\ncarrying contempt with it; one does not speak of Venus de Medici as\npretty, nor would one describe the Apollo Belvedere as very\nnice-looking. That Miss Trevor was exceedingly handsome would, I fancy,\nbe generally admitted. At any rate she would command attention wherever\nshe might go, and that is an advantage which few of us possess. Should a\nmore detailed description of her be necessary, I might add that she was\ntall and dark, with black hair and large luminous eyes that haunted one,\nand were suggestive of a southern ancestor. She was the daughter, and\nindeed the only child, of the well-known Dean of Bedminster, and this\nwas the first time she had visited Italy, or that she had been abroad.\nThe wonders of the Art Country were all new to her, and in consequence\nour wanderings were one long succession of delight. Every day added some\nnew pleasure to her experiences, while each night saw a life desire\ngratified.\n\nIn my humble opinion, to understand Italy properly one should not\npresume to visit her until after the first blush of youth has departed,\nand then only when one has prepared oneself to properly appreciate her\nmany beauties. Venice, above all others, is a city that must be taken\nseriously. To come at a proper spirit of the place one must be in a\nreverent mood. Cheap jokes and Cockney laughter are as unsuited to the\nplace, where Falieri yielded his life, as a downcast face would be in\nNice at carnival time. On the afternoon of the particular day from which\nI date my story, we had been to the island of Murano to pay a visit to\nthe famous glass factories of which it is the home. By the time we\nreached Venice once more it was nearly sunset. Having something like an\nhour to spare we made our way, at my wife's suggestion, to the Florian\n_caf\u00e9_ on the piazza of Saint Mark in order to watch the people. As\nusual the place was crowded, and at first glance it looked as if we\nshould be unable to find sufficient vacant chairs. Fortune favoured us,\nhowever, and when we had seated ourselves and I had ordered coffee, we\ngave ourselves up to the enjoyment of what is perhaps one of the most\namusing scenes in Venice. To a thoughtful mind the Great Square must at\nall times be an object of absorbing interest. I have seen it at every\nhour, and under almost every aspect: at break of day, when one has it to\noneself and is able to enjoy its beauty undisturbed; at midday, when the\nimportunate shop-keepers endeavour to seduce one into entering their\ndoors (by tales of the marvels therein); at sunset, when the _caf\u00e9s_ are\ncrowded, the band plays, and all is merriment; and last, but not least,\nat midnight, when the moon is sailing above Saint Mark's, the square is\nfull of strange shadows, and the only sound to be heard is the cry of a\ngull on the lagoon, or the \"_Sa Premi_\" of some belated gondolier.\n\n\"This is the moment to which I have looked forward all my life,\" said\nMiss Trevor, as she sat back in her chair and watched the animated crowd\nbefore her. \"Look at that pretty little boy with the pigeons flocking\nround him. What a picture he would make if one only had a camera.\"\n\n\"If you care to have a photo of him one can easily be obtained,\" I\nremarked. \"Any one of these enterprising photographers would be only too\npleased to take one for you for a few centissimi. I regret to say that\nmany of our countrymen have a weakness for being taken in that way.\"\n\n\"Fancy Septimus Brown, of Tooting,\" my wife remarked, \"a typical English\npaterfamilias, with a green veil, blue spectacles, and white umbrella,\ndaring to ask the sun to record his image with the pigeons of St. Mark's\nclustering about his venerable head. Can't you picture the pride of that\nworthy gentleman's family when they produce the album on Sunday\nafternoons and show it to their friends? 'This is pa,' the eldest girl\nwill probably remark, 'when he was travelling in Venice' (as if Venice\nwere a country in which one must be perpetually moving on), 'and that's\nhow the pigeons came down to him to be fed. Isn't it splendid of him?'\nPapa, who has never ventured beyond Brighton beach before, will be a\nperson of importance from that moment.\"\n\n\"You forget one circumstance, however,\" Miss Trevor replied, who enjoyed\nan argument, and for this reason contradicted my wife on principle,\n\"that in allowing himself to be taken at all, Brown of Tooting has\nadvanced a step. For the moment he dared to throw off his insularity, as\nthe picture at which you are laughing is indisputable testimony. Do you\nthink he would dare to be photographed in a similar fashion in his own\nmarket-place, standing outside his shop-door with his assistants\nwatching him from behind the counter? I am quite sure he would not!\"\n\n\"A very excellent argument,\" I answered. \"Unfortunately, however, it\ncarries with it its own refutation. The mere fact that Brown takes the\nphotograph home to show to his friends goes a long way towards proving\nthat he is still as insular as when he set out. If he did not consider\nhimself of sufficient importance to shut out a portion of Saint Mark's\nwith his voluminous personality, he would not have employed the\nphotographer at all, in which case we are no further advanced than\nbefore.\"\n\nThese little sparring-matches were a source of great amusement to us.\nThe Cockney tourist was Miss Trevor's _b\u00eate noir_. And upon this failing\nmy wife and I loved to twit her. On the whole I rather fancy she liked\nbeing teased by us.\n\nWe had finished our coffee and were still idly watching the people about\nus when I noticed that my wife had turned a little pale. I was about to\nremark upon it, when she uttered an exclamation as if something had\nstartled her.\n\n\"Good gracious! Dick,\" she cried, \"surely it is not possible. It must be\na mistake.\"\n\n\"What is it cannot be possible?\" I inquired. \"What do you think you\nsee?\"\n\nI glanced in the direction she indicated, but could recognize no one\nwith whom I was acquainted. An English clergyman and his daughter were\nsitting near the entrance to the _caf\u00e9_, and some officers in uniform\nwere on the other side of them again, but still my wife was looking in\nthe same direction and with an equally startled face. I placed my hand\nupon her arm. It was a long time since I had seen her so agitated.\n\n\"Come, darling,\" I said, \"tell me what it is that troubles you.\"\n\n\"Look,\" she answered, \"can you see the table a little to the right of\nthat at which those officers are seated?\"\n\nI was about to reply in the affirmative, but the shock I received\ndeprived me of speech. The person to whom my wife referred had risen\nfrom his chair, and was in the act of walking towards us. I looked at\nhim, looked away, and then looked again. No! there was no room for\ndoubt; the likeness was unmistakable. I should have known him anywhere.\n_He was Doctor Nikola_; the man who had played such an important part in\nour life's drama. Five years had elapsed since I had last seen him, but\nin that time he was scarcely changed at all. It was the same tall, thin\nfigure; the same sallow, clean-shaven face; the same piercing black\neyes. As he drew nearer I noticed that his hair was a little more grey,\nthat he looked slightly older; otherwise he was unchanged. But why was\nhe coming to us? Surely he did not mean to speak to us? After the manner\nin which he had treated us in by-gone days I scarcely knew how to\nreceive him. He on his side, however, was quite self-possessed. Raising\nhis hat with that easy grace that always distinguished him, he advanced\nand held out his hand to my wife.\n\n\"My dear Lady Hatteras,\" he began in his most conciliatory tone, \"I felt\nsure you would recognize me. Observing that you had not forgotten me, I\ntook the liberty of coming to pay my respects to you.\"\n\nThen before my wife could reply he had turned to me and was holding out\nhis hand. For a moment I had half determined not to take it, but when\nhis glittering eyes looked into mine I changed my mind and shook hands\nwith him more cordially than I should ever have thought it possible for\nme to do. Having thus broken the ice, and as we had to all intents and\npurposes permitted him to derive the impression that we were prepared to\nforgive the Past, nothing remained for us but to introduce him to Miss\nTrevor. From the moment that he had approached us she had been watching\nhim covertly, and that he had produced a decided impression upon her was\neasily seen. For the first time since we had known her she, usually so\nstaid and unimpressionable, was nervous and ill at ease. The\nintroduction effected she drew back a little, and pretended to be\nabsorbed in watching a party of our fellow-countrymen who had taken\ntheir places at a table a short distance from us. For my part I do not\nmind confessing that I was by no means comfortable. I remembered my\nbitter hatred of Nikola in days gone by. I recalled that terrible house\nin Port Said, and thought of the night on the island when I had rescued\nmy wife from his clutches. In my estimation then he had been a villain\nof the deepest dye, and yet here he was sitting beside me as calm and\ncollected, and apparently as interested in the _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of our travels\nin Italy that my wife was giving him, as if we had been bosom friends\nthroughout our lives. In any one else it would have been a piece of\nmarvellous effrontery; in Nikola's case, however, it did not strike one\nin the same light. As I have so often remarked, he seemed incapable of\nacting like any other human being. His extraordinary personality lent a\nglamour to his simplest actions, and demanded for them an attention they\nwould scarcely have received had he been less endowed.\n\n\"Have you been long in Venice?\" my wife inquired when she had completed\nthe record of our doings, feeling that she must say something.\n\n\"I seldom remain anywhere for very long,\" he answered, with one of his\ncurious smiles. \"I come and go like a Will-o'-the-wisp; I am here to-day\nand gone to-morrow.\"\n\nIt may have been an unfortunate remark, but I could not help uttering\nit.\n\n\"For instance, you are in London to-day,\" I said, \"in Port Said next\nweek, and in the South Sea Islands a couple of months later.\"\n\nHe was not in the least disconcerted.\n\n\"Ah! I see you have not forgotten our South Sea adventure,\" he replied\ncheerfully. \"How long ago it seems, does it not? To me it is like a\nchapter out of another life.\" Then, turning to Miss Trevor, who of\ncourse had heard the story of our dealings with him sufficiently often\nto be weary of it, he added, \"I hope you are not altogether disposed to\nthink ill of me. Perhaps some day you will be able to persuade Lady\nHatteras to forgive me, that is to say if she has not already done so.\nYet I do not know why I should plead for pardon, seeing that I am far\nfrom being in a repentant mood. As a matter of fact I am very much\nafraid that, should the necessity arise, I should be compelled to act as\nI did then.\"\n\n\"Then let us pray most fervently that the necessity may never arise,\" I\nanswered. \"I for one do not entertain a very pleasant recollection of\nthat time.\"\n\nI spoke so seriously that my wife looked sharply up at me. Fearing, I\nsuppose, that I might commit myself, she added quickly--\n\n\"I trust it may not. For I can assure you, Doctor Nikola, that my\ninclinations lie much nearer Bond Street than the South Sea Islands.\"\n\nAll this time Miss Trevor said nothing, but I could tell from the\nexpression upon her face that Nikola interested her more than she would\nhave been willing to admit.\n\n\"Is it permissible to ask where you are staying?\" he inquired, breaking\nthe silence and speaking as if it were a point upon which he was most\nanxious to be assured.\n\n\"At Galaghetti's,\" I answered. \"While in Venice we always make it our\nhome.\"\n\n\"Ah! the good Galaghetti,\" said Nikola softly. \"It is a long time since\nI last had the pleasure of seeing him. I fancy, however, he would\nremember me. I was able to do him a slight service some time ago, and I\nhave always understood that he possesses a retentive memory.\"\n\nThen, doubtless feeling that he had stayed long enough, he rose and\nprepared to take leave of us.\n\n\"Perhaps, Lady Hatteras, you will permit me to do myself the honour of\ncalling upon you?\" he said.\n\n\"We shall be very pleased to see you,\" my wife replied, though with no\nreal cordiality.\n\nHe then bowed to Miss Trevor, and shook hands with myself.\n\n\"Good-bye, Hatteras,\" he continued. \"I shall hope soon to see you\nagain. I expect we have lots of news for each other, and doubtless you\nwill be interested to learn the history and subsequent adventures of\nthat peculiar little stick which caused you so much anxiety, and myself\nso much trouble, five years ago. My address is the Palace Revecce, in\nthe Rio del Consiglio, where, needless to say, I shall be delighted to\nsee you if you care to pay me a visit.\"\n\nI thanked him for his invitation, and promised that I would call upon\nhim.\n\nThen with a bow he took his departure, leaving behind him a sensation of\nsomething missing, something that could not be replaced. To sit down and\ncontinue the conversation where he had broken into it was out of the\nquestion. We accordingly rose, and after I had discharged the bill,\nstrolled across the piazza towards the lagoon. Observing that Miss\nTrevor was still very silent, I inquired the cause.\n\n\"If you really want me to tell you, I can only account for it by saying\nthat your friend, Doctor Nikola, has occasioned it,\" she answered. \"I\ndon't know why it should be so, but that man has made a curious\nimpression upon me.\"\n\n\"He seems to affect every one in a different manner,\" I said, and for\nsome reason made no further comment upon her speech.\n\nWhen we had called a gondola, and were on our way back to our hotel, she\nreferred to the subject again.\n\n\"I think I ought to tell you that it is not the first time I have seen\nDoctor Nikola,\" she said. \"You may remember that yesterday, while\nPhyllis was lying down, I went out to do some shopping. I cannot\ndescribe exactly which direction I took, save that I went towards the\nRialto. It is sufficient that in the end I reached a chemist's shop. It\nwas only a small place, and very dark, so dark indeed that I did not see\nthat it contained another customer until I was really inside. Then I\nnoticed a tall man busily engaged in conversation with the shopman. He\nwas declaiming against some drugs he had purchased there on the previous\nday, and demanding that for the future they should be of better quality,\notherwise he would be compelled to take his patronage elsewhere. In the\nmiddle of this harangue he turned round, and I was permitted an\nopportunity of seeing his face. He was none other than your friend,\nDoctor Nikola.\"\n\n\"But, my dear Gertrude,\" said Phyllis, \"with all due respect to your\nnarrative, I do not see that the mere fact of your having met Doctor\nNikola in a chemist's shop yesterday, and your having been introduced to\nhim to-day, should have caused you so much concern.\"\n\n\"I do not know why it should,\" she answered, \"but it is a fact,\nnevertheless. Ever since I saw him yesterday, his face, with its\nterrible eyes, has haunted me. I dreamt of it last night. All day long I\nhave had it before me, and now, as if to add to the strangeness of the\ncoincidence, he proves to be the man of whom you have so often told\nme--your demoniacal, fascinating Nikola. You must admit that it is very\nstrange.\"\n\n\"A coincidence, a mere coincidence, that is all,\" I replied. \"Nikola\npossesses an extraordinary face, and it must have impressed itself more\ndeeply upon you than the average countenance is happy enough to do.\"\n\nWhether my explanation satisfied her or not, she said no more upon the\nsubject. But that our strange meeting with Nikola had had an\nextraordinary effect upon her was plainly observable. As a rule she was\nas bright and merry a companion as one could wish to have; on this\nparticular evening, however, she was not herself at all. It was the more\nannoying for the reason that I was anxious that she should shine on this\noccasion, as I was expecting an old friend, who was going to spend a few\ndays with us in Venice. That friend was none other than the Duke of\nGlenbarth, who previous to his succession to the Dukedom had been known\nas the Marquis of Beckenham, and who, as the readers of the history of\nmy adventures with Doctor Nikola may remember, figured as a very\nimportant factor in that strange affair. Ever since the day when I had\nthe good fortune to render him a signal service in the bay of a certain\nsouth-coast watering-place, and from the time that he had accepted my\ninvitation to join us in Venice, I had looked forward to his coming with\nthe greatest possible eagerness. As it happened it was well-nigh seven\no'clock by the time we reached our hotel. Without pausing in the hall\nfurther than to examine the letter-rack, we ascended to our rooms on the\nfloor above. My wife and Miss Trevor had gone to their apartments, and I\nwas about to follow their example as soon as I had obtained something\nfrom the sitting-room.\n\n\"A nice sort of host, a very nice host,\" said a laughing voice as I\nentered. \"He invites me to stay with him, and is not at home to bid me\nwelcome. My dear old Dick, how are you?\"\n\n\"My dear fellow,\" I cried, hastening forward to greet him, \"I must beg\nyour pardon ten thousand times. I had not the least idea that you would\nbe here so early. We have been sitting on the piazza, and did not hurry\nhome.\"\n\n\"You needn't apologize,\" he answered. \"For once an Italian train was\nbefore its time. And now tell me about yourself. How is your wife, how\nare you, and what sort of holiday are you having?\"\n\nI answered his questions to the best of my ability, keeping back my most\nimportant item as a surprise for him.\n\n\"And now,\" I said, \"it is time to dress for dinner. But before you do\nso, I have some important news for you. Who do you think is in Venice?\"\n\nNeedless to say he mentioned every one but the right person.\n\n\"You had better give it up, you will never guess,\" I said. \"Who is the\nmost unlikely person you would expect to see in Venice at the present\nmoment?\"\n\n\"Old Macpherson, my solicitor,\" he replied promptly. \"The rascal would\nno more think of crossing the Channel than he would contemplate standing\non his head in the middle of the Strand. It must be Macpherson.\"\n\n\"Nonsense,\" I cried. \"I don't know Macpherson in the first place, and I\ndoubt if he would interest me in the second. No! no! this man is neither\na Scotchman nor a lawyer. He is an individual bearing the name of\nNikola.\"\n\nI had quite expected to surprise him, but I scarcely looked for such an\noutbreak of astonishment.\n\n\"What?\" he cried, in amazement. \"You must be joking. You don't mean to\nsay that you have seen Nikola again?\"\n\n\"I not only mean that I have seen him,\" I replied, \"but I will go\nfurther than that, and say that he was sitting on the piazza with us not\nmore than half-an-hour ago. What do you think his appearance in Venice\nmeans?\"\n\n\"I don't know what to think,\" he replied, with an expression of almost\ncomic bewilderment upon his face. \"It seems impossible, and yet you\ndon't look as if you were joking.\"\n\n\"I tell you the news in all sober earnestness,\" I answered, dropping my\nbantering tone. \"It is a fact that Nikola is in Venice, and, what is\nmore, that he has given me his address. He has invited me to call upon\nhim, and if you like we will go together. What do you say?\"\n\n\"I shall have to take time to think about it,\" Glenbarth replied\nseriously. \"I don't suppose for a moment he has any intention of\nabducting me again; nevertheless, I am not going to give him the\nopportunity. By Jove, how that fellow's face comes back to me. It haunts\nme!\"\n\n\"Miss Trevor has been complaining of the same thing,\" I said.\n\n\"Miss Trevor?\" the Duke repeated. \"And pray who may Miss Trevor be?\"\n\n\"A friend of my wife's,\" I answered. \"She has been travelling with us\nfor the last few months. I think you will like her. And now come along\nwith me and I'll show you your room. I suppose your man has discovered\nit by this time?\"\n\n\"Stevens would find it if this hotel were constructed on the same\nprinciple as the maze at Hampton Court,\" he answered. \"He has the virtue\nof persistence, and when he wants to find a thing he secures the person\nwho would be the most likely to tell him, and sticks to him until his\ndesire has been gratified.\"\n\nIt turned out as he had predicted, and three-quarters of an hour later\nour quartet sat down to dinner. My wife and Glenbarth, by virtue of an\nold friendship, agreed remarkably well, while Miss Trevor, now somewhat\nrecovered from her Nikola indisposition, was more like her old self. It\nwas a beautiful night, and after dinner it was proposed, seconded, and\ncarried unanimously, that we should charter a gondola and go for a row\nupon the canal. On our homeward voyage the gondolier, by some strange\nchance, turned into the Rio del Consiglio.\n\n\"Perhaps you can tell me which is the Palace Revecce?\" I said to the\nman.\n\nHe pointed to a building we were in the act of approaching.\n\n\"There it is, signor,\" he said. \"At one time it was a very great palace\nbut now--\" here he shrugged his shoulders to enable us to understand\nthat its glory had departed from it. Not another word was said upon the\nsubject, but I noticed that all our faces turned in the direction of the\nbuilding. With the exception of one solitary window it was in total\ndarkness. As I looked at the latter I wondered whether Nikola were in\nthe room, and if so, what he was doing? Was he poring over some of his\ncurious books, trying some new experiment in chemistry, or putting to\nthe test some theory such as I had found him at work upon in that\ncurious house in Port Said? A few minutes later we had left the Rio del\nConsiglio behind us, had turned to the right, and were making our way\nback by another watery thoroughfare towards the Grand Canal.\n\n\"Thanks to your proposition we have had a delightful evening,\" Miss\nTrevor said, as we paused to say good-night at the foot of the staircase\na quarter of an hour or so later. \"I have enjoyed myself immensely.\"\n\n\"You should not tell him that, dear,\" said my wife. \"You know how\nconceited he is already. He will take all the credit, and be unbearable\nfor days afterwards.\" Then turning to me, she added, \"You are going to\nsmoke, I suppose?\"\n\n\"I had thought of doing so,\" I replied; and then added with mock\nhumility, \"If you do not wish it of course I will not do so. I was only\ngoing to keep Glenbarth company.\"\n\nThey laughed and bade us good-night, and when we had seen them depart in\nthe direction of their rooms we lit our cigars and passed into the\nbalcony outside.\n\nAt this hour of the night the Grand Canal looked very still and\nbeautiful, and we both felt in the humour for confidences.\n\n\"Do you know, Hatteras,\" said Glenbarth, after the few moments' pause\nthat followed our arrival in the open air, \"that Nikola's turning up in\nVenice at this particular juncture savours to me a little of the\nuncanny. What his mission may be, of course I cannot tell, but that it\nis some diabolical thing or another I haven't a doubt.\"\n\n\"One thing is quite certain,\" I answered, \"he would hardly be here\nwithout an object, and, after our dealings with him in the past, I am\nprepared to admit that I don't trust him any more than you do.\"\n\n\"And now that he has asked you to call upon him what are you going to\ndo?\"\n\nI paused before I replied. The question involved greater\nresponsibilities than were at first glance apparent. Knowing Nikola so\nwell, I had not the least desire or intention to be drawn into any of\nthe plots or machinations he was so fond of working against other\npeople. I must confess, nevertheless, that I could not help feeling a\nlarge amount of curiosity as to the subsequent history of that little\nstick, to obtain which he had spent so much money, and had risked so\nmany lives.\n\n\"Yes, I think I shall call upon him,\" I said reflectively, as if I had\nnot quite made up my mind. \"Surely to see him once more could do no\nharm? Good heavens! what an extraordinary fellow he is! Fancy you or I\nbeing afraid of any other man as we are afraid of him, for mind you, I\nknow that you stand quite as much in awe of him as I do. Why, do you\nknow when my eyes fell upon him this afternoon I felt a return of the\nold dread his presence used to cause in me five years ago! The effect he\nhad upon Miss Trevor was also very singular, when you come to think of\nit.\"\n\n\"By the way, Hatteras, talking of Miss Trevor, what an awfully nice girl\nshe is. I don't know when I have ever met a nicer. Who is she?\"\n\n\"She is the daughter of the Dean of Bedminster,\" I answered; \"a splendid\nold fellow.\"\n\n\"I like his daughter,\" the Duke remarked. \"Yes, I must say that I like\nher very much.\"\n\nI was glad to hear this, for I had my own little dreams, and my wife,\nwho, by the way, is a born matchmaker, had long ago come to a similar\nconclusion.\n\n\"She is a very nice girl,\" I replied, \"and what is more, she is as good\nas she is nice.\" Then I continued, \"He will be indeed a lucky man who\nwins Gertrude Trevor for his wife. And now, since our cigars are\nfinished, what do you say to bed? It is growing late, and I expect you\nare tired after your journey.\"\n\n\"I am quite ready,\" he answered. \"I shall sleep like a top. I only hope\nand pray that I shall not dream of Nikola.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nWhether it was our excursion upon the canal that was responsible for it\nI cannot say; the fact, however, remains, that next morning every member\nof our party was late for breakfast. My wife and I were the first to put\nin an appearance, Glenbarth followed shortly after, and Miss Trevor was\nlast of all. It struck me that the girl looked a little pale as she\napproached the window to bid me good-morning, and as she prided herself\nupon her punctuality, I jestingly reproved her for her late rising.\n\n\"I am afraid your gondola excursion proved too much for you,\" I said, in\na bantering tone, \"or perhaps you dreamt of Doctor Nikola.\"\n\nI expected her to declare in her usual vehement fashion that she would\nnot waste her time dreaming of any man, but to my combined astonishment\nand horror her eyes filled with tears, until she was compelled to turn\nher head away in order to hide them from me. It was all so unexpected\nthat I did not know what to think. As may be supposed, I had not the\nslightest intention of giving her pain, nor could I quite see how I\nmanaged to do so. It was plain, however, that my thoughtless speech had\nbeen the means of upsetting her, and I was heartily sorry for my\nindiscretion. Fortunately my wife had not overheard what had passed\nbetween us.\n\n\"Is he teasing you again, Gertrude?\" she said, as she slipped her arm\nthrough her friend's. \"Take my advice and have nothing to do with him.\nTreat him with contempt. Besides, the coffee is getting cold, and that\nis a very much more important matter. Let us sit down to breakfast.\"\n\nNothing could have been more opportune. We took our places at the table,\nand by the time the servant had handed the first dishes Miss Trevor had\nrecovered herself sufficiently to be able to look me in the face, and to\njoin in the conversation without the likelihood of a catastrophe. Still\nthere could be no doubt that she was far from being in a happy frame of\nmind. I said as much to my wife afterwards, when we were alone together.\n\n\"She told me she had had a very bad night,\" the little woman replied.\n\"Our meeting with Doctor Nikola yesterday on the piazza upset her for\nsome reason or another. She said that she had dreamt of nothing else. As\nyou know she is very highly strung, and when you think of the\ndescriptions we have given her of him, it is scarcely to be wondered at\nthat she should attach an exaggerated importance to our unexpected\nmeeting with him. That is the real explanation of the mystery. One\nthing, however, is quite certain; in her present state of mind she must\nsee no more of him than can be helped. It might upset her altogether.\nOh, why did he come here to spoil our holiday?\"\n\n\"I cannot see that he has spoilt it, my dear,\" I returned, putting my\narm round her waist and leading her to the window. \"The girl will very\nsoon recover from her fit of depression, and afterwards will be as merry\nas a marriage-bell. By the way, I don't know why I should think of it\njust now, but talking of marriage-bells reminds me that Glenbarth told\nme last night that he thought Gertrude one of the nicest girls he had\never met.\"\n\n\"I am delighted to hear it,\" my wife answered. \"And still more delighted\nto think that he has such good sense. Do you know, I have set my heart\nupon that coming to something. No! you needn't shake your head. For very\nmany reasons it would be a most desirable match.\"\n\n\"For my own part I believe it was for no other reason that you bothered\nme into inviting him to join our party here. You are a matchmaker. I\nchallenge you to refute the accusation.\"\n\n\"I shall not attempt to do so,\" she retorted with considerable hauteur.\n\"It is always a waste of time to argue with you. At any rate you must\nagree with me that Gertrude would make an ideal duchess.\"\n\n\"So you have travelled as far as that, have you?\" I inquired. \"I must\nsay that you jump to conclusions very quickly. Because Glenbarth happens\nto have said in confidence to me (a confidence I am willing to admit I\nhave shamefully abused) that he considers Gertrude Trevor a very\ncharming girl, it does not follow that he has the very slightest\nintention of asking her to be his wife. Why should he?\"\n\n\"If he doesn't he is not fit to sit in the House of Lords,\" she\nanswered, as if that ought to clinch the argument. \"Fancy a man posing\nas one of our hereditary legislators who doesn't know how to seize such\na golden opportunity. As a good churchwoman I pray for the nobility\nevery Sunday morning; and if not knowing where to look for the best wife\nin the world may be taken as a weakness, and it undoubtedly is, then all\nI can say is, that they require all the praying for they can get!\"\n\n\"But I should like to know, how is he going to marry the best wife in\nthe world?\" I asked.\n\n\"By asking her,\" she retorted. \"He doesn't surely suppose she is going\nto ask him?\"\n\n\"If he values his life he'd better not do that!\" I said savagely. \"He\nwill have to answer for it to me if he does!\"\n\n\"Ah,\" she answered, her lips curling, \"I thought as much. You are\njealous of him. You don't want him to ask her because you fancy that if\nhe does your reign will be over. A nice admission for a married man, I\nmust say!\"\n\n\"I presume you mean because I refuse to allow him to flirt with my\nwife?\"\n\n\"I mean nothing of the kind, and you know it. How dare you say, Dick,\nthat I flirt with the Duke?\"\n\n\"Because you have confessed it,\" I answered with a grin of triumph, for\nI had got her cornered at last. \"Did you not say, only a moment ago,\nthat if he did not know where to find the best wife in the world he was\nunfit to sit in the House of Lords? Did you not say that he ought to be\nashamed of himself if he did not ask her to be his wife? Answer that, my\nlady.\"\n\n\"I admit that I did say it; but you know very well that I referred to\nGertrude Trevor!\"\n\n\"Gertrude Trevor is not yet a wife. The best wife in the world is\nbeside me now; and since you are already proved to be in the wrong you\nmust perforce pay the penalty.\"\n\nShe was in the act of doing so when Gertrude entered the room.\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" she began, hesitating in pretended consternation, \"is there\nnever to be an end of it?\"\n\n\"An end of what?\" demanded my wife with some little asperity, for she\ndoes not like her little endearments to be witnessed by other people.\n\n\"Of this billing and cooing,\" the other replied. \"You two insane\ncreatures have been married more than four years, and yet a third person\ncan never enter the room without finding you love-making. I declare it\nupsets all one's theories of marriage. One of my most cherished ideas\nwas that this sort of thing ceased with the honeymoon, and that the\ncouple invariably lead a cat-and-dog life for the remainder of their\nexistence.\"\n\n\"So they do,\" my wife answered unblushingly. \"And what can you expect\nwhen one is a great silly creature who will not learn to jump away and\nbe looking innocently out of the window when he hears the handle turned?\nNever marry, Gertrude. Mark my words: you will repent it if you do!\"\n\n\"Well, for ingratitude and cool impudence, that surpasses everything!\" I\nsaid in astonishment. \"Why, you audacious creature, not more than five\nminutes ago you were inviting me to co-operate in the noble task of\nfinding a husband for Miss Trevor!\"\n\n\"Richard, how can you stand there and say such things?\" she ejaculated.\n\"Gertrude, my dear, I insist that you come away at once. I don't know\nwhat he will say next.\"\n\nMiss Trevor laughed.\n\n\"I like to hear you two squabbling,\" she said. \"Please go on, it amuses\nme!\"\n\n\"Yes, I will certainly go on,\" I returned. \"Perhaps you heard her\ndeclare that she fears what I may say next. Of course she does. Allow me\nto tell you, Lady Hatteras, that you are a coward. If the truth were\nknown, it would be found that you are trembling in your shoes at this\nmoment. For two centimes, paid down, I would turn Queen's evidence, and\nreveal the whole plot.\"\n\n\"You had better not, sir,\" she replied, shaking a warning finger at me.\n\"In that case the letters from home shall be withheld from you, and you\nwill not know how your son and heir is progressing.\"\n\n\"I capitulate,\" I answered. \"Threatened by such awful punishment I dare\nsay no more. Miss Gertrude, will you not intercede for me?\"\n\n\"I think that you scarcely deserve it,\" she retorted. \"Even now you are\nkeeping something back from me.\"\n\n\"Never mind, my dear, we'll let him off this time with a caution,\" said\nmy wife, \"provided he promises not to offend again. And now let us\nsettle what we are going to do to-day.\"\n\nWhen this important matter had been arranged, it was reported to us that\nthe ladies were to spend the morning shopping, leaving the Duke and\nmyself free to follow our own inclinations. Accordingly, when we had\nseen them safely on their way to the Merceria, we held a smoking council\nto arrange how we should pass the hours until lunch-time. As we\ndiscovered afterwards, we both had a certain thought in our minds, which\nfor some reason we scarcely liked to broach to each other. It was\nsettled, however, just as we desired, but in a fashion we least\nexpected.\n\nWe were seated in the balcony outside our room, watching the animated\ntraffic on the Grand Canal below, when a servant came in search of us\nand handed me a note. One glance at the characteristic writing was\nsufficient to show me that it was from Doctor Nikola. I opened it with\nan eagerness that I did not attempt to conceal, and read as follows--\n\n     \"DEAR HATTERAS,\n\n     \"If you have nothing more important on hand this morning, can you\n     spare the time to come and see me? As I understand the Duke of\n     Glenbarth is with you, will you not bring him also? It will be very\n     pleasant to have a chat upon by-gone days, and, what is more, I\n     fancy this old house will interest you.\n\n     \"Yours very truly,\n\n     \"NIKOLA.\"\n\n\n\"What do you say?\" I inquired, when I had finished reading, \"shall we\ngo?\"\n\n\"Let us do so by all means,\" the Duke replied. \"It will be very\ninteresting to meet Nikola once more. There is one thing, however, that\npuzzles me; how did he become aware of my arrival in Venice? You say he\nwas with you on the piazza last night, so that he could not have been at\nthe railway station, and as I haven't been outside since I came, except\nfor the row after dinner, I confess it puzzles me.\"\n\n\"You should know by this time that it is useless to wonder how Nikola\nacquires his knowledge,\" I replied. \"For my own part I should like to\ndiscover _his_ reason for being in Venice. I am very curious on that\npoint.\"\n\nGlenbarth shook his head solemnly.\n\n\"If Nikola does not want us to know,\" he argued, \"we shall leave his\nhouse as wise as we entered it. If he _does_ let us know, I shall begin\nto grow suspicious, for in that case it is a thousand pounds to this\nhalf-smoked cigar that we shall be called upon to render him assistance.\nHowever, if you are prepared to run the risk I will do so also.\"\n\n\"In that case,\" I said, rising from my chair and tossing what remained\nof my cigar into the water below, \"let us get ready and be off. We may\nchange our minds.\"\n\nTen minutes later we had chartered a gondola and were on our way to the\nPalace Revecce.\n\nAs a general rule when one sets out to pay a morning call one is not the\nvictim of any particular nervousness; on this occasion however both\nGlenbarth and I, as we confessed to each other afterwards, were\ndistinctly conscious of being in a condition which would be described by\npersons of mature years as an unpleasant state of expectancy, but which\nby school-boys is denominated \"funk.\" The Duke, I noticed, fidgeted with\nhis cigar, allowed it to go out, and then sat with it in his mouth\nunlighted. There was a far-away look on his handsome face that told me\nthat he was recalling some of the events connected with the time when he\nhad been in Nikola's company. This proved to be the case, for as we\nturned from the Grand Canal into the street in which the palace is\nsituated, he said--\n\n\"By the way, Hatteras, I wonder what became of Baxter, Prendergrast, and\nthose other fellows?\"\n\n\"Nikola may be able to tell us,\" I answered. Then I added after a short\npause, \"By Jove, what strange times those were.\"\n\n\"Not half so strange to my thinking as our finding Nikola in Venice,\"\nGlenbarth replied. \"That is the coincidence that astonishes me. But see,\nhere we are.\"\n\nAs he spoke the gondola drew up at the steps of the Palace Revecce, and\nwe prepared to step ashore. As we did so I noticed that the armorial\nbearings of the family still decorated the posts on either side of the\ndoor, but by the light of day the palace did not look nearly so imposing\nas it had done by moonlight the night before. One thing about it was\ncertainly peculiar. When we ordered the gondolier to wait for us he\nshook his head. Not for anything would he remain there longer than was\nnecessary to set us down. I accordingly paid him off, and when we had\nascended the steps we entered the building. On pushing open the door we\nfound ourselves standing in a handsome courtyard, in the centre of which\nwas a well, its coping elegantly carved with a design of fruit and\nflowers. A broad stone staircase at the further end led up to the floor\nabove, but this, as was the case with everything else, showed\nunmistakable signs of having been allowed to fall to decay. As no\nconcierge was to be seen, and there was no one in sight of whom we might\nmake inquiries, we scarcely knew how to proceed. Indeed, we were just\nwondering whether we should take our chance and explore the lower\nregions in search of Nikola, when he appeared at the head of the\nstaircase and greeted us.\n\n\"Good-morning,\" he said, \"pray come up. I must apologize for not having\nbeen down-stairs to receive you.\"\n\nBy the time he had finished speaking he had reached us, and was shaking\nhands with Glenbarth with the heartiness of an old friend.\n\n\"Let me offer you a hearty welcome to Venice,\" he said to Glenbarth\nafter he had shaken hands with myself. Then looking at him once more, he\nadded, \"If you will permit me to say so, you have changed a great deal\nsince we last saw each other.\"\n\n\"And you, scarcely at all,\" Glenbarth replied.\n\n\"It is strange that I should not have done so,\" Nikola answered, I\nthought a little sadly, \"for I think I may say without any fear of\nboasting that, since we parted at Pipa Lannu, I have passed through\nsufficient to change a dozen men. But we will not talk of that here. Let\nus come up to my room, which is the only place in this great house that\nis in the least degree comfortable.\"\n\nSo saying he led the way up the stairs, and then along a corridor, which\nhad once been beautifully frescoed, but which was now sadly given over\nto damp and decay. At last, reaching a room in the front of the\nbuilding, he threw open the door and invited us to enter. And here I\nmight digress for a moment to remark, that of all the men I have ever\nmet, Nikola possessed the faculty of being able to make himself\ncomfortable wherever he might be, in the greatest degree. He would have\nbeen at home anywhere. As a matter of fact this particular apartment was\nfurnished in a style that caused me considerable surprise. The room\nitself was large and lofty, while the walls were beautifully frescoed,\nthe work of one Andrea Bunopelli, of whom I shall have more to say anon.\nThe furniture was simple, but extremely good; a massive oak\nwriting-table stood beside one wall, another covered with books and\npapers was opposite it, several easy-chairs were placed here and there,\nanother table in the centre of the room supported various chemical\nparaphernalia, while books of all sorts and descriptions, in all\nlanguages and bindings, were to be discovered in every direction.\n\n\"After what you have seen of the rest of the house, this strikes you as\nbeing more homelike, does it not?\" Nikola inquired, as he noticed the\nlook of astonishment upon our faces. \"It is a queer old place, and the\nmore I see of it the stranger it becomes. Some time ago, and quite by\nchance, I became acquainted with its history; I do not mean the\npolitical history of the respective families that have occupied it; you\ncan find that in any guide-book. I mean the real, inner history of the\nhouse itself, embracing not a few of the deeds which have taken place\ninside its walls. I wonder if you would be interested if I were to tell\nyou that in this very room, in the year fifteen hundred and eleven, one\nof the most repellent and cold-blooded murders of the Middle Ages took\nplace. Perhaps now that you have the scene before you you would like to\nhear the story. You would? In that case pray sit down. Let me offer you\nthis chair, Duke,\" he continued, and as he spoke he wheeled forward a\nhandsomely carved chair from beside his writing-table. \"Here, Hatteras,\nis one for you. I myself will take up my position here, so that I may be\nbetter able to retain your attention for my narrative.\"\n\nSo saying he stood between us on the strip of polished floor which\nshowed between two heavy oriental rugs.\n\n\"For some reasons,\" he began, \"I regret that the story I have to tell\nshould run upon such familiar lines. I fancy, however, that the\n_d\u00e9nouement_ will prove sufficiently original to merit your attention.\nThe year fifteen hundred and nine, the same which found the French\nvictorious at Agnadello, and the Venetian Republic at the commencement\nof that decline from which it has never recovered, saw this house in its\nglory. The owner, the illustrious Francesco del Revecce, was a sailor,\nand had the honour of commanding one of the many fleets of the Republic.\nHe was an ambitious man, a good fighter, and as such twice defeated the\nfleet of the League of Camberi. It was after the last of these victories\nthat he married the beautiful daughter of the Duke of Levano, one of the\nmost bitter enemies of the Council of Ten. The husband being rich,\nfamous, and still young enough to be admired for his personal\nattractions; the bride one of the wealthiest, as well as one of the most\nbeautiful women in the Republic, it appeared as if all must be well with\nthem for the remainder of their lives. A series of dazzling _f\u00eates_, to\nwhich all the noblest and most distinguished of the city were invited,\ncelebrated their nuptials and their possession of this house. Yet with\nit all the woman was perhaps the most unhappy individual in the\nuniverse. Unknown to her husband and her father she had long since\ngiven her love elsewhere; she was passionately attached to young Andrea\nBunopelli, the man by whom the frescoes of this room were painted.\nFinding that Fate demanded her renunciation of Bunopelli, and her\nmarriage to Revecce, she resolved to see no more of the man to whom she\nhad given her heart. Love, however, proved stronger than her sense of\nduty, and while her husband, by order of the Senate, had put to sea once\nmore in order to drive back the French, who were threatening the\nAdriatic, Bunopelli put into operation the scheme that was ultimately to\nprove their mutual undoing. Unfortunately for Revecce he was not\nsuccessful in his venture, and by and by news reached Venice that his\nfleet had been destroyed, and that he himself had been taken prisoner.\n'Now,' said the astute Bunopelli, 'is the time to act.' He accordingly\ntook pens, paper, and his ink-horn, and in this very room concocted a\nletter which purported to bear the signature of the commander of the\nFrench forces, into whose hands the Venetian admiral had fallen and then\nwas. Its meaning was plain enough. It proved that for a large sum of\nmoney Revecce had agreed to surrender the Venetian fleet, and, in order\nto secure his own safety, in case the Republic should lay hands on him\nafterwards, it was to be supposed that he himself had only been taken\nprisoner after a desperate resistance, as had really been the case. The\nletter was written, and that night the painter himself dropped it into\nthe lion's mouth. Revecce might return now as soon as he pleased. His\nfate was prepared for him. Meanwhile the guilty pair spent the time as\nhappily as was possible under the circumstances, knowing full well that\nshould the man against whom they had plotted return to Venice, it would\nonly be to find himself arrested, and with the certainty, on the\nevidence of the incriminating letter, of being immediately condemned to\ndeath. Weeks and months went by. At last Revecce, worn almost to a\nskeleton by reason of his long imprisonment, _did_ manage to escape. In\nthe guise of a common fisherman he returned to Venice; reached his own\nhouse, where a faithful servant recognized him and admitted him to the\npalace. From the latter's lips he learnt all that had transpired during\nhis absence, and was informed of the villainous plot that had been\nprepared against him. His wrath knew no bounds; but with it all he was\nprudent. He was aware that if his presence in the city were discovered,\nnothing could save him from arrest. He accordingly hid himself in his\nown house and watched the course of events. What he saw was sufficient\nto confirm his worst suspicion. His wife was unfaithful to him, and her\nparamour was the man to whom he had been so kind a friend, and so\ngenerous a benefactor. Then when the time was ripe, assisted only by his\nservant, the same who had admitted him to his house, he descended upon\nthe unhappy couple. Under threats of instant death he extorted from them\na written confession of their treachery. After having made them secure,\nhe departed for the council-chamber and demanded to be heard. He was the\nvictim of a conspiracy, he declared, and to prove that what he said was\ntrue he produced the confession he had that day obtained. He had many\npowerful friends, and by their influence an immediate pardon was granted\nhim, while permission was also given him to deal with his enemies as he\nmight consider most desirable. He accordingly returned to this house\nwith a scheme he was prepared to put into instant execution. It is not a\npretty story, but it certainly lends an interest to this room. The\npainter he imprisoned here.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"He pressed a spring in the wall.\"]\n\nSo saying Nikola stooped and drew back one of the rugs to which I have\nalready referred. The square outline of a trap-door showed itself in the\nfloor. He pressed a spring in the wall behind him, and the lid shot\nback, swung round, and disappeared, showing the black abyss below. A\nsmell of damp vaults came up to us. Then, when he had closed the\ntrap-door again, Nikola drew the carpet back to its old position.\n\n\"The wretched man died slowly of starvation in that hole, and the woman,\nliving in this room above, was compelled to listen to his agony without\nbeing permitted the means of saving him. Can you imagine the scene? The\ndying wretch below, doing his best to die like a man in order not to\ndistress the woman he loved, and the outraged husband calmly pursuing\nhis studies, regardless of both.\"\n\nHe looked from one to the other of us and his eyes burnt like living\ncoals.\n\n\"It was brutish, it was hellish,\" cried Glenbarth, upon whom either the\nstory, or Nikola's manner of narrating it, had produced an extraordinary\neffect. \"Why did the woman allow it to continue? Was she mad that she\ndid not summon assistance? Surely the Authorities of a State which\nprided itself upon its enlightenment, even in those dark ages, would not\nhave tolerated such a thing?\"\n\n\"You must bear in mind the fact that the Republic had given the husband\npermission to avenge his wrongs,\" said Nikola very quietly. \"Besides,\nthe woman could not cry out for the reason that her tongue had been torn\nout at the roots. When both were dead their bodies were tied together\nand thrown into the canal, and the same day Revecce set sail again, to\nultimately perish in a storm off the coast of Sicily. Now you know one\nof the many stories connected with this old room. There are others in\nwhich that trap-door has played an equally important part. I fear,\nhowever, none of them can boast so dramatic a setting as that I have\njust narrated to you.\"\n\n\"How, knowing all this, you can live in the house passes my\ncomprehension,\" gasped Glenbarth. \"I don't think I am a coward, but I\ntell you candidly that I would not spend a night here, after what you\nhave told me, for anything the world could give me.\"\n\n\"But surely you don't suppose that what happened in this room upwards of\nthree hundred years ago could have any effect upon a living being\nto-day?\" said Nikola, with what I could not help thinking was a double\nmeaning. \"Let me tell you, that far from being unpleasant it has decided\nadvantages. As a matter of fact it gives me the opportunity of being\nfree to do what I like. That is my greatest safeguard. I can go away for\nfive years, if I please, and leave the most valuable of my things lying\nabout, and come back to the discovery that nothing is missing. I am not\npestered by tourists who ask to see the frescoes, for the simple reason\nthat the guides take very good care not to tell them the legend of the\nhouse, lest they may be called upon to take them over it. Many of the\ngondoliers will not stop here after nightfall, and the few who are brave\nenough to do so, invariably cross themselves before reaching, and after\nleaving it.\"\n\n\"I do not wonder at it,\" I said. \"Taken altogether it is the most dismal\ndwelling I have ever set foot in. Do you mean to tell me that you live\nalone in it?\"\n\n\"Not entirely,\" he replied. \"I have companions: an old man who comes in\nonce a day to attend to my simple wants, and my ever-faithful\nfriend----\"\n\n\"Apollyon,\" I cried, forestalling what he was about to say.\n\n\"Exactly, Apollyon. I am glad to see that you remember him.\"\n\nHe uttered a low whistle, and a moment later the great beast that I\nremembered so well stalked solemnly into the room, and began to rub\nhimself against the leg of his master's chair.\n\n\"Poor old fellow,\" continued Nikola, picking him up and gently stroking\nhim, \"he is growing very feeble. Perhaps it is not to be wondered at,\nfor he is already far past the average age of the feline race. He has\nbeen in many strange places, and has seen many queer things since last\nwe met, but never anything much stranger than he has witnessed in this\nroom.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I inquired. \"What has the cat seen in this room that\nis so strange?\"\n\n\"Objects that we are not yet permitted to see,\" Nikola answered gravely.\n\"When all is quiet at night, and I am working at that table, he lies\ncurled up in yonder chair. For a time he will sleep contentedly, then I\nsee him lift his head and watch something, or somebody, I cannot say\nwhich, moving about in the room. At first I came to the conclusion that\nit must be a bat, or some night bird, but that theory exploded. Bats do\nnot remain at the same exact distance from the floor, nor do they stand\nstationary behind a man's chair for any length of time. The hour will\ncome, however, when it will be possible for us to see these things; I am\non the track even now.\"\n\nHad I not known Nikola, and if I had not remembered some very curious\nexperiments he had performed for my special benefit two years before, I\nshould have inclined to the belief that he was boasting. I knew him too\nwell, however, to deem it possible that he would waste his time in such\nan idle fashion.\n\n\"Do you mean to say,\" I asked, \"that you really think that in time it\nwill be possible for us to see things which at present we have no notion\nof? That we shall be able to look into the world we have always been\ntaught to consider Unknowable?\"\n\n\"I do mean it,\" he replied. \"And though you may scarcely believe it, it\nwas for the sake of the information necessary to that end that I\npestered Mr. Wetherall in Sydney, imprisoned you in Port Said, and\ncarried the lady, who is now your wife, away to the island in the South\nSeas.\"\n\n\"This is most interesting,\" I said, while Glenbarth drew his chair a\nlittle closer.\n\n\"Pray tell us some of your adventures since we last saw you,\" he put in.\n\"You may imagine how eager we are to hear.\"\n\nThereupon Nikola furnished us with a detailed description of all that he\nhad been through since that momentous day when he had obtained\npossession of the stick that had been bequeathed to Mr. Wetherall by\nChina Pete. He told us how, armed with this talisman, he had set out for\nChina, where he engaged a man named Bruce, who must have been as plucky\nas Nikola himself, and together they started off in search of an almost\nunknown monastery in Thibet. He described with a wealth of exciting\ndetail the perilous adventures they had passed through, and how near\nthey had been to losing their lives in attempting to obtain possession\nof a certain curious book in which were set forth the most wonderful\nsecrets relating to the laws of Life and Death. He told us of their\nhair-breadth escapes on the journey back to civilization, and showed how\nthey were followed to England by a mysterious Chinaman, whose undoubted\nmission was to avenge the robbery, and to obtain possession of the book.\nAt this moment he paused, and I found an opportunity of asking him\nwhether he had the book in his possession now.\n\n\"Would you care to see it?\" he inquired. \"If so, I will show it to you.\"\n\nOn our answering in the affirmative he crossed to his writing-table,\nunlocked a drawer, and took from it a small curiously bound book, the\npages of which were yellow with age, and the writing so faded that it\nwas almost impossible to decipher it.\n\n\"And now that you have plotted and planned, and suffered so much to\nobtain possession of this book, what use has it been to you?\" I\ninquired, with almost a feeling of awe, for it seemed impossible that a\nman could have endured so much for so trifling a return.\n\n\"In dabbling with such matters,\" Nikola returned, \"one of the first\nlessons one learns is not to expect immediate results. There is the\ncollected wisdom of untold ages in that little volume, and when I have\nmastered the secret it contains, I shall, like the eaters of the\nforbidden fruit, possess a knowledge of all things, Good and Evil.\"\n\nReplacing the book in the drawer he continued his narrative, told us of\nhis great attempt to probe the secret of Existence, and explained to us\nhis endeavour to put new life into a body already worn out by age.\n\n\"I was unsuccessful in what I set out to accomplish,\" he said, \"but I\nadvanced so far that I was able to restore the man his youth again. What\nI failed to do was to give him the power of thought or will. It was the\nbrain that was too much for me, that vital part of man without which he\nis nothing. When I have mastered that secret I shall try again, and\nthen, perhaps, I shall succeed. But there is much to be accomplished\nfirst. Only I know how much!\"\n\nI looked at him in amazement. Was he jesting, or did he really suppose\nthat it was possible for him, or any other son of man, to restore youth,\nand by so doing to prolong life perpetually? Yet he spoke with all his\nusual earnestness, and seemed as convinced of the truth of what he said\nas if he were narrating some well-known fact. I did not know what to\nthink.\n\nAt last, seeing the bewilderment on our faces, I suppose, he smiled, and\nrising from his chair reminded us that if we had been bored we had only\nourselves to thank for it. He accordingly changed the conversation by\ninquiring whether we had made any arrangements for that evening. I\nreplied that so far as I knew we had not, whereupon he came forward with\na proposition.\n\n\"In that case,\" said he, \"if you will allow me to act as your guide to\nVenice, I think I could show you a side of the city you have never seen\nbefore. I know her as thoroughly as any man living, and I think I may\nsafely promise that your party will spend an interesting couple of\nhours. What have you to say to my proposal?\"\n\n\"I am quite sure we shall be delighted,\" I replied, though not without\ncertain misgivings. \"But I think I had better not decide until I have\nseen my wife. If she has made no other arrangements, at what hour shall\nwe start?\"\n\n\"At what time do you dine?\" he inquired.\n\n\"At seven o'clock,\" I replied. \"Perhaps we might be able to persuade you\nto give us the pleasure of your company?\"\n\n\"I thank you,\" he answered. \"I fear I must decline, however. I am\nhermit-like in my habits so far as meals are concerned. If you will\nallow me I will call for you, shall we say at half-past eight? The moon\nwill have risen by that time, and we should spend a most enjoyable\nevening.\"\n\n\"At half-past eight,\" I said, \"unless you hear to the contrary,\" and\nthen rose from my chair. Glenbarth followed my example, and we\naccordingly bade Nikola good-bye. Despite our protest, he insisted on\naccompanying us down the great staircase to the courtyard below, his\nterrible cat following close upon his heels. Hailing a gondola, we bade\nthe man take us back to our hotel. For some minutes after we had said\ngood-bye to Nikola we sat in silence as the boat skimmed over the placid\nwater.\n\n\"Well, what is your opinion of Nikola now?\" I said, as we turned from\nthe Rio del Consiglio into the Grand Canal once more. \"Has he grown any\nmore commonplace, think you, since you last saw him?\"\n\n\"On the contrary, he is stranger than ever,\" Glenbarth replied. \"I have\nnever met any other man who resembled him in the slightest degree. What\na ghastly story that was! His dramatic telling of it made it appear so\nreal that towards the end of it I was almost convinced that I could hear\nthe groans of the poor wretch in the pit below, and see the woman\nwringing her hands and moaning in the room in which we were sitting. Why\nhe should have told it to us is what I cannot understand, neither can I\nmake out what his reasons can be for living in that house.\"\n\n\"Nikola's actions are like himself, entirely inexplicable,\" he answered.\n\"But that he has some motive beyond the desire he expressed for peace\nand quiet, I have not the shadow of a doubt.\"\n\n\"And now with regard to to-night,\" said the Duke, I am afraid a little\npettishly. \"I was surprised when you accepted his offer. Do you think\nLady Hatteras and Miss Trevor will care about such an excursion?\"\n\n\"That is a question I cannot answer at present,\" I replied. \"We must\nleave it to them to decide. For my own part, I can scarcely imagine\nanything more interesting.\"\n\nWhen we reached Galaghetti's I informed my wife and Miss Trevor of\nNikola's offer, half expecting that the latter, from the manner in which\nshe had behaved at the mere mention of his name that morning, would\ndecline to accompany us, and, therefore, that the excursion would fall\nthrough. To my surprise, however, she did nothing of the kind. She fell\nin with the idea at once, and, so far as we could see, without\nreluctance of any kind.\n\nThere was nothing for it, therefore, under these circumstances, but for\nme to fall back upon the old commonplace, and declare that women are\ndifficult creatures to understand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nIn the previous chapter I recorded the surprise I felt at Miss Trevor's\nacceptance of Doctor Nikola's invitation to a gondola excursion. Almost\nas suddenly as she had shown her fear of him, she had recovered her\ntranquillity, and the result, as I have stated, was complete perplexity\non my part. With a united desire to reserve our energies for the\nevening, we did not arrange a long excursion for that afternoon, but\ncontented ourselves with a visit to the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo.\nMiss Trevor was quite recovered by this time, and in very good spirits.\nShe and Glenbarth were on the most friendly terms, consequently my wife\nwas a most happy woman.\n\n\"Isn't it nice to see them together?\" she whispered, as we crossed the\nhall and went down the steps to our gondola. \"They are suited to each\nother almost as--well, if I really wanted to pay you a compliment, which\nyou don't deserve, I should say as we are. Do you notice how prettily\nshe gives him her hand so that he may help her into the boat?\"\n\n\"I do,\" I answered grimly. \"And it only shows the wickedness of the\ngirl. She is as capable of getting into the boat without assistance as\nhe is.\"\n\n\"And yet you help her yourself every time you get the chance,\" my wife\nretorted. \"I have observed you take the greatest care that she should\nnot fall, even when the step has been one of only a few inches, and I\nhave been left to get down by myself. Perhaps you cannot recall that day\nat Capri?\"\n\n\"I have the happiest recollections of it,\" I replied. \"I helped her\nquite half-a-dozen times.\"\n\n\"And yet you grudge that poor boy the opportunities that you yourself\nwere once so eager to enjoy. You cannot deny it.\"\n\n\"I am not going to attempt to deny it,\" I returned. \"I _do_ grudge him\nhis chances. And why shouldn't I? Has she not the second prettiest\nhands, and the second neatest ankle, in all Europe?\"\n\nMy wife looked up at me with a suspicion of a smile hovering round her\nmouth. When she does that her dimples are charming.\n\n\"And the neatest?\" she inquired, as if she had not guessed. Women can do\nthat sort of thing with excellent effect.\n\n\"Lady Hatteras, may I help you into the gondola?\" I said politely, and\nfor some reason, best known to herself, the reply appeared to satisfy\nher.\n\nOf one thing there could be no sort of doubt. Miss Trevor had taken a\ndecided liking to Glenbarth, and the young fellow's delight in her\ncompany was more than equal to it. By my wife's orders I left them\ntogether as much as possible during the afternoon, that is to say as far\nas was consistent with the duties of an observant chaperon. For\ninstance, while we were in the right aisle of the church, examining the\nmausoleum of the Doge, Pietro Mocenningo, and the statues of Lombardi,\nthey were in the choir proper, before the famous tomb of Andrea\nVendramin, considered by many to be the finest of its kind in Venice. As\nwe entered the choir, they departed into the left transept. I fancy,\nhowever, Glenbarth must have been a little chagrined when she, playing\nher hand according to the recognized rules, suggested that they should\nturn back in search of us. Back they came accordingly, to be received by\nmy wife with a speech that still further revealed to me the duplicity of\nwomen.\n\n\"You are two naughty children,\" she said, with fairly simulated wrath.\n\"Where on earth have you been? We have been looking for you\neverywhere!\"\n\n\"You are so slow,\" put in Miss Trevor, and then she added, without a\nquaver in her voice or blush upon her cheek, \"We dawdled about in order\nto let you catch us up.\"\n\nI thought it was time for me to interfere.\n\n\"Perhaps I should remind you young people that at the present moment you\nare in a church,\" I said. \"Would it not be as well, do you think, for\nyou to preserve those pretty little prevarications until you are in the\ngondola? You will be able to quarrel in greater comfort there. It will\nalso give Phyllis time to collect her thoughts, and to prepare a new\nindictment.\"\n\nMy wife treated me to a look that would have annihilated another man.\nAfter that I washed my hands of them and turned to the copy of Titian's\n_Martyrdom of Saint Peter_, which Victor Emmanuel had presented to the\nchurch in place of the original, which had been destroyed. Later on we\nmade our way, by a long series of tortuous thoroughfares, to the piazza\nof Saint Mark, where we intended to sit in front of Florian's _caf\u00e9_ and\nwatch the people until it was time for us to return and dress for\ndinner.\n\nAs I have already said, Miss Trevor had all the afternoon been in the\nbest of spirits. Nothing could have been happier than her demeanour when\nwe left the church, yet when we reached the piazza everything was\nchanged. Apparently she was not really unhappy, nor did she look about\nher in the frightened way that had struck me so unpleasantly on the\nprevious evening. It was only her manner that was strange. At first she\nwas silent, then, as if she were afraid we might notice it, she set\nherself to talk as if she were so doing for mere talking's sake. Then,\nwithout any apparent reason, she became as silent as a mouse once more.\nRemembering what had happened that morning before breakfast, I did not\nquestion her, nor did I attempt to rally her upon the subject. To have\ndone either would have been to have risked a recurrence of the\ncatastrophe we had so narrowly escaped earlier in the day. I accordingly\nleft her alone, and my wife, in the hope of distracting her attention,\nentered upon an amusing argument with Glenbarth upon the evils attendant\nupon excessive smoking, which was the young man's one, and, so far as I\nknew, only failing. Unable to combat her assertions he appealed to me\nfor protection.\n\n\"Take my part, there's a good fellow,\" he said pathetically. \"I am not\nstrong enough to stand against Lady Hatteras alone.\"\n\n\"No,\" I returned; \"you must fight your own battles. When I see a chance\nof having a little peace I like to grasp it. I am going to take Miss\nTrevor to Maya's shop on the other side of the piazza, in search of new\nphotographs. We will leave you to quarrel in comfort here.\"\n\nSo saying Miss Trevor and I left them and made our way to the famous\nshop, where I purchased for her a number of photographs, of which she\nhad expressed her admiration a few days before. After that we rejoined\nmy wife and Glenbarth and returned to our hotel for dinner.\n\nNikola, as you may remember, had arranged to call for us with his\ngondola at half-past eight, and ten minutes before that time I suggested\nthat the ladies should prepare themselves for the excursion. I bade them\nwrap up well, for I knew by experience that it is seldom warm upon the\nwater at night. When they had left us the Duke and I strolled into the\nbalcony.\n\n\"I hope to goodness Nikola won't frighten Miss Trevor this evening,\"\nsaid my companion, after we had been there a few moments. (I noticed\nthat he spoke with an anxiety that was by no means usual with him.) \"She\nis awfully sensitive, you know, and when he likes he can curdle the very\nmarrow in your bones. I shouldn't have liked her to have heard that\nstory he told us this morning. I suppose there is no fear of his\nrepeating it to-night?\"\n\n\"I should not think so,\" I returned. \"Nikola has more tact in his little\nfinger than you and I have in our whole bodies. He would be scarcely\nlikely to make such a mistake. No, I rather fancy that to-night we shall\nsee a new side of his character. For my own part I am prepared to\nconfess that I am looking forward to the excursion with a good deal of\npleasure.\"\n\n\"I am glad to hear it,\" Glenbarth replied, as I thought with a savour of\nsarcasm in his voice. \"I only hope you won't have reason to regret it.\"\n\nThis little speech set me thinking. Was it possible that Glenbarth was\njealous of Nikola? Surely he could not be foolish enough for that. That\nMiss Trevor had made an impression upon him was apparent, but it was\nfull early for him to grow jealous, and particularly of such a man.\n\nWhile I was thinking of this the ladies entered the room, and at the\nsame moment we heard Nikola's gondola draw up at the steps. I thought\nMiss Trevor looked a little pale, but though still very quiet she was\nmore cheerful than she had been before dinner.\n\n\"Our guide has arrived,\" I remarked, as I closed the windows behind us.\n\"We had better go down to the hall. Miss Trevor, if you will accompany\nme, the Duke will bring Phyllis. We must not keep Nikola waiting.\"\n\nWe accordingly left our apartments and proceeded down-stairs.\n\n\"I trust you are looking forward to your excursion, Miss Trevor?\" I\nsaid as we descended the stairs. \"If I am not mistaken you will see\nVenice to-night under circumstances such as you could never have dreamed\nof before.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt it,\" she answered simply. \"It will be a night to\nremember.\"\n\nLittle did she guess how true her prophecy was destined to be. It was\nindeed a night that every member of the party would remember all his, or\nher, life long. When we had reached the hall, Nikola had just entered\nit, and was in the act of sending up a servant to announce his arrival.\nHe shook hands with my wife, then with Miss Trevor, afterwards with\nGlenbarth and myself. His hand was, as usual, as cold as ice and his\nface was deathly pale. His tall, lithe figure was concealed by his\nvoluminous coat, but what was lost in one direction was compensated for\nby the mystery that it imparted to his personality. For some reason I\nthought of Mephistopheles as I looked at him, and in many ways the\nillustration does not seem an altogether inapt one.\n\n\"Permit me to express the gratification I feel that you have consented\nto allow me to be your guide this evening, Lady Hatteras,\" he said as he\nconducted my wife towards the boat. \"While it is an impertinence on my\npart to imagine that I can add to your enjoyment of Venice, I fancy it\nis, nevertheless, in my power to show you a side of the city with which\nyou are not as yet acquainted. The night being so beautiful, and\nbelieving that you would wish to see all you can, I have brought a\ngondola without a cabin. I trust I did not do wrong.\"\n\n\"I am sure it will be delightful,\" my wife answered. \"It would have been\nunendurable on such a beautiful evening to be cooped up in a close\ncabin. Besides, we should have seen nothing.\"\n\nBy this time we were on the steps, at the foot of which the gondola in\nquestion, a large one of its class, was lying. As soon as we had boarded\nher the gondolier bent to his oar, the boat shot out into the stream,\nand the excursion, which, as I have said, we were each of us to remember\nall our lives, had commenced. If I shut my eyes now I can recall the\nwhole scene: the still moonlit waters of the canal, the houses on one\nside of which were brilliantly illuminated by the moon, the other being\nentirely in the shadow. When we were in mid-stream a boat decorated with\nlanterns passed us. It contained a merry party, whose progress was\nenlivened by the strains of the invariable _Finiculi Finicula_. The\nwords and the tune ring in my memory even now. Years before we had grown\nheartily sick of the song, now however it possessed a charm that was\nquite its own.\n\n\"How pretty it is,\" remarked my wife and Miss Trevor almost\nsimultaneously. And the former added, \"I could never have believed that\nit possessed such a wealth of tenderness.\"\n\n\"Might it not be the association that is responsible?\" put in Nikola\ngravely. \"You have probably heard that song at some time when you have\nbeen so happy that all the world has seemed the same. Hearing it\nto-night has unconsciously recalled that association, and _Finiculi\nFinicula_, once so despised, immediately becomes a melody that touches\nyour heart-strings, and so wins for itself a place in your regard that\nit can never altogether lose.\"\n\nWe had crossed the canal by this time; the gondola with the singers\nproceeding towards the Rialto bridge. The echo of the music still\nlingered in our ears, and seemed the sweeter by the reason of the\ndistance that separated us from it. Turning to the gondolier, who in the\nmoonlight presented a picturesque figure in the stern of the boat,\nNikola said something in Italian. The boat's head was immediately turned\nin the direction of a side-street, and a moment later we entered it. It\nis not my intention, nor would it be possible for me, to attempt to\nfurnish you with a definite description of the route we followed. In the\ndaytime I flatter myself that I have a knowledge of the Venice of the\ntourist; if you were to give me a pencil and paper I believe I should be\nable to draw a rough outline of the city, and to place St. Mark's\nCathedral, Galaghetti's Hotel, the Rialto bridge, the Arsenal, and\ncertainly the railway station, in something like their proper positions.\nBut at night, when I have left the Grand Canal, the city becomes a\nsealed book to me. On this particular evening every street, when once we\nhad left the fashionable quarter behind us, seemed alike. There was the\nsame darkness, the same silence, and the same reflection of the lights\nin the water. Occasionally we happened upon places where business was\nstill being transacted, and where the noise of voices smote the air with\na vehemence that was like sacrilege. A few moments would then elapse,\nand then we were plunged into a silence that was almost unearthly. All\nthis time Nikola kept us continually interested. Here was a house with a\nhistory as old as Venice itself; there the home of a famous painter;\nyonder the birthplace of a poet or a soldier, who had fought his way to\nfame by pen or by sword. On one side of the street was the first\ndwelling of one who had been a plebeian and had died a Doge; while on\nthe other side was that of a man who had given his life to save his\nfriend. Nor were Nikola's illustrations confined to the past alone. Men\nwhose names were household words to us had preceded us, and had seen\nVenice as we were seeing it now. Of each he could tell us something we\nhad never heard before. It was the perfect mastery of his subject, like\nthat of a man who plays upon an instrument of which he has made a\nlifelong study, that astonished us. He could rouse in our hearts such\nemotions as he pleased; could induce us to pity at one moment, and to\nloathing at the next; could make us see the city with his eyes, and in a\nmeasure to love it with his own love. That Nikola _did_ entertain a deep\naffection for it was as certain as his knowledge of its history.\n\n\"I think I may say now,\" he said, when we had been absent from the hotel\nfor upwards of an hour, \"that I have furnished you with a superficial\nidea of the city. Let me attempt after this to show you something of its\ninner life. That it will repay you I think you will admit when you have\nseen it.\"\n\nOnce more he gave the gondolier an order. Without a word the man entered\na narrow street on the right, then turned to the left, after which to\nthe right again. What were we going to see next? That it would be\nsomething interesting I had not the least doubt. Presently the gondolier\nmade an indescribable movement with his oar, the first signal that he\nwas about to stop. With two strokes he brought the boat alongside the\nsteps, and Nikola, who was the first to spring out, assisted the ladies\nto alight. We were now in a portion of Venice with which I was entirely\nunacquainted. The houses were old and lofty, though sadly fallen to\ndecay. Where shops existed business was still being carried on, but the\nmajority of the owners of the houses in the neighbourhood appeared to be\nearly birds, for no lights were visible in their dwellings. Once or\ntwice men approached us and stared insolently at the ladies of our\nparty. One of these, more impertinent than his companions, placed his\nhand upon Miss Trevor's arm. In a second, without any apparent effort,\nNikola had laid him upon his back.\n\n\"Do not be afraid, Miss Trevor,\" he said; \"the fellow has only forgotten\nhimself for a moment.\"\n\nSo saying he approached the man, who scrambled to his feet, and\naddressed him in a low voice.\n\n\"No, no, your excellency,\" the rascal whined; \"for the pity of the\nblessed saints. Had I known it was you I would not have dared.\"\n\nNikola said something in a whisper to him; what it was I have not the\nleast idea, but its effect was certainly excellent, for the man slunk\naway without another word.\n\nAfter this little incident we continued our walk without further\nopposition, took several turnings, and at last found ourselves standing\nbefore a low doorway. That it was closely barred on the inside was\nevident from the sounds that followed when, in response to Nikola's\nknocks, some one commenced to open it. Presently an old man looked out.\nAt first he seemed surprised to see us, but when his eyes fell upon\nNikola all was changed. With a low bow he invited him, in Russian, to\nenter.\n\nCrossing the threshold we found ourselves in a church of the smallest\npossible description. By the dim light a priest could be seen\nofficiating at the high altar, and there were possibly a dozen\nworshippers present. There was an air of secrecy about it all, the\nlight, the voices, and the precautions taken to prevent a stranger\nentering, that appealed to my curiosity. As we turned to leave the\nbuilding the little man who had admitted us crept up to Nikola's side\nand said something in a low voice to him. Nikola replied, and at the\nsame time patted the man affectionately upon the shoulder. Then with the\nsame obsequious respect the latter opened the door once more, and\npermitted us to pass out, quickly barring it behind us afterwards\nhowever.\n\n\"You have seen many churches during your stay in Venice, Lady Hatteras,\"\nNikola remarked, as we made our way back towards the gondola, \"I doubt\nvery much, however, whether you have ever entered a stranger place of\nworship than that.\"\n\n\"I know that I have not,\" my wife replied. \"Pray who were the people we\nsaw there? And why was so much secrecy observed?\"\n\n\"Because nearly all the poor souls you saw there are either suspected or\nwanted by the Russian Government. They are fugitives from injustice, if\nI may so express it, and it is for that reason that they are compelled\nto worship, as well as live, in hiding.\"\n\n\"But who are they?\"\n\n\"Nihilists,\" Nikola answered. \"A poor, hot-headed lot of people, who,\nseeing their country drifting in a wrong direction, have taken it into\ntheir heads to try and remedy matters by drastic measures. Finding their\nefforts hopeless, their properties confiscated, and they themselves in\ndanger of death, or exile, which is worse, they have fled from Russia.\nSome of them, the richest, manage to get to England, some come to\nVenice, but knowing that the Italian police will turn them out _sans\nc\u00e9r\u00e9monie_ if they discover them, they are compelled to remain in hiding\nuntil they are in a position to proceed elsewhere.\"\n\n\"And you help them?\" asked Miss Trevor in a strange voice, as if his\nanswer were a foregone conclusion.\n\n\"What makes you think that?\" Nikola inquired.\n\n\"Because the doorkeeper knew you, and you spoke so kindly to him.\"\n\n\"The poor fellow has a son,\" Nikola replied; \"a hot-headed young rascal\nwho has got into trouble in Moscow. If he is caught he will without\ndoubt go to Siberia for the rest of his life. But he will _not_ be\ncaught.\"\n\nOnce more Miss Trevor spoke as if with authority, and in the same hushed\nvoice.\n\n\"You have saved him?\"\n\n\"He _has_ been saved,\" Nikola replied. \"He left for America this\nmorning. The old fellow was merely expressing to me the gratification he\nfelt at having got him out of such a difficulty. Now, here is our\ngondola. Let us get into it. We still have much to see, and time is not\nstanding still with us.\"\n\nOnce more we took our places, and once more the gondola proceeded on its\nway. To furnish you with a complete _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of all we saw would take\ntoo long, and would occupy too great a space. Let it suffice that we\nvisited places, the mere existence of which I had never heard of before.\n\nOne thing impressed me throughout. Wherever we went Nikola was known,\nand not only known, but feared and respected. His face was a key that\nopened every lock, and in his company the ladies were as safe, in the\nroughest parts of Venice, as if they had been surrounded by a troop of\nsoldiery. When we had seen all that he was able to show us it was nearly\nmidnight, and time for us to be getting back to our hotel.\n\n\"I trust I have not tired you?\" he said, as the ladies took their places\nin the gondola for the last time.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" both answered at once, and I fancy my wife spoke not\nonly for herself but also for Miss Trevor when she continued, \"we have\nspent a most delightful evening.\"\n\n\"You must not praise the performance until the epilogue is spoken,\"\nNikola answered. \"I have still one more item on my programme.\"\n\nAs he said this the gondola drew up at some steps, where a solitary\nfigure was standing, apparently waiting for us. He wore a cloak and\ncarried a somewhat bulky object in his hand. As soon as the boat came\nalongside Nikola sprang out and approached him. To our surprise he\nhelped him into the gondola and placed him in the stern.\n\n\"To-night, Luigi,\" he said, \"you must sing your best for the honour of\nthe city.\"\n\nThe young man replied in an undertone, and then the gondola passed down\na by-street and a moment later we were back in the Grand Canal. There\nwas not a breath of air, and the moon shone full and clear upon the\nplacid water. Never had Venice appeared more beautiful. Away to the\nright was the piazza, with the Cathedral of Saint Mark; on our left were\nthe shadows of the islands. The silence of Venice, and there is no\nsilence in the world like it, lay upon everything. The only sound to be\nheard was the dripping of the water from the gondolier's oar as it rose\nand fell in rhythmic motion. Then the musician drew his fingers across\nthe strings of his guitar, and after a little prelude commenced to sing.\nThe song he had chosen was the _Salve d'amora_ from _Faust_, surely one\nof the most delightful melodies that has ever occurred to the brain of a\nmusician. Before he had sung a dozen bars we were entranced. Though not\na strong tenor his voice was one of the most perfect I have ever heard.\nIt was of the purest quality, so rich and sweet that the greatest\nconnoisseur could not tire of it. The beauty of the evening, the silence\nof the lagoon, and the perfectness of the surroundings, helped it to\nappeal to us as no music had ever done before. It was a significant\nproof of the effect produced upon us, that when he ceased not one of us\nspoke for some moments. Our hearts were too full for words. By the time\nwe had recovered ourselves the gondola had drawn up at the steps of the\nhotel, and we had disembarked. The Duke and I desired to reward the\nmusician; Nikola however begged us to do nothing of the kind.\n\n\"He sings to-night to please me,\" he said. \"It would hurt him beyond\nwords were you to offer him any other reward.\"\n\nAfter that there was nothing more to be said, except to thank him in the\nbest Italian we could muster for the treat he had given us.\n\n\"Why on earth does he not try his fortune upon the stage?\" asked my\nwife, when we had disembarked from the gondola and had assembled on the\nsteps. \"With such a voice he might achieve a European reputation.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" answered Nikola, \"he will never do that. Did you notice his\ninfirmity?\"\n\nPhyllis replied that she had not observed anything extraordinary about\nhim.\n\n\"The poor fellow is blind,\" Nikola answered very quietly. \"He is a\nsinging-bird shut up always in the dark. And now, good-night. I have\ntrespassed too long upon your time already.\"\n\nHe bowed low to the ladies, shook hands with the Duke and myself, and\nthen, before we had time to thank him for the delightful evening he had\ngiven us, was in his gondola once more and out in mid-stream. We watched\nhim until he had disappeared in the direction of the Rio del Consiglio,\nafter we entered the hotel and made our way to our own sitting-room.\n\n\"I cannot say when I have enjoyed myself so much,\" said my wife, as we\nstood talking together before bidding each other good-night.\n\n\"It has been delightful,\" said Glenbarth, whose little attack of\njealousy seemed to have quite left him. \"Have you enjoyed it, Hatteras?\"\n\nI said something in reply, I cannot remember what, but I recollect that,\nas I did so, I glanced at Miss Trevor's face. It was still very pale,\nbut her eyes shone with extraordinary brilliance.\n\n\"I hope you have had a pleasant evening,\" I said to her a few moments\nlater, when we were alone together.\n\n\"Yes, I think I can say that I have,\" she answered, with a far-away look\nupon her face. \"The music was exquisite. The thought of it haunts me\nstill.\"\n\nThen, having bade me good-night, she went off with my wife, leaving me\nto attempt to understand why she had replied as she had done.\n\n\"And what do you think of it, my friend?\" I inquired of Glenbarth, when\nwe had taken our cigars out into the balcony.\n\n\"I am extremely glad we went,\" he returned quickly. \"There can be no\ndoubt that you were right when you said that it would show us Nikola's\ncharacter in a new light. Did you notice with what respect he was\ntreated by everybody we met, and how anxious they were not to run the\nrisk of offending him?\"\n\n\"Of course I noticed it, and you may be sure I drew my own conclusions\nfrom it,\" I replied.\n\n\"And those conclusions were?\"\n\n\"That Nikola's character is even more inexplicable than before.\"\n\nAfter that we smoked in silence for some time. At last I rose and tossed\nwhat remained of my cigar over the rails into the dark waters below.\n\n\"It is getting late,\" I said. \"Don't you think we had better bid each\nother good-night?\"\n\n\"Perhaps we had, and yet I don't feel a bit tired.\"\n\n\"Are you quite sure that you have had a pleasant day?\"\n\n\"Quite sure,\" he said, with a laugh. \"The only thing I regret is having\nheard that wretched story this morning. Do you recall the gusto with\nwhich Nikola related it?\"\n\nI replied in the affirmative, and asked him his reason for referring to\nit now.\n\n\"Because I could not help thinking of it this evening, when his voice\nwas so pleasant and his manner so kind. When I picture him going back\nto that house to-night, to that dreadful room, to sleep alone in that\ngreat building, it fairly makes me shudder. Good-night, old fellow. You\nhave treated me royally to-day; I could scarcely have had more\nsensations compressed into my waking hours if I'd been a king.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nAfter our excursion through Venice with Nikola by night, an interval of\na week elapsed before we saw anything of him. During that time matters,\nso far as our party was concerned, progressed with the smoothness of a\nwell-regulated clock. In my own mind I had not the shadow of a doubt\nthat Glenbarth was head over ears in love with Gertrude Trevor. He\nfollowed her about wherever she went; seemed never to tire of paying her\nattention, and whenever we were alone together, endeavoured to inveigle\nme into a discussion of her merits. That she had faults nothing would\nconvince him.\n\nWhether she reciprocated his good-feeling was a matter which, to my\nmind, there existed a considerable amount of doubt. Women are\nproverbially more secretive in these affairs than men, and if Miss\nTrevor entertained a warmer feeling than friendship for the young Duke,\nshe certainly managed to conceal it admirably. More than once, I\nbelieve, my wife endeavoured to sound her upon the subject. She had to\nconfess herself beaten, however. Miss Trevor liked the Duke of Glenbarth\nvery much; she was quite agreed that he had not an atom of conceit in\nhis constitution; he gave himself no airs; moreover, she was prepared to\nmeet my wife half-way, and to say that she thought it a pity he did not\nmarry. No, she had never heard that there was an American millionaire\ngirl, extremely beautiful, and accomplished beyond the average, who was\npining to throw her millions and herself at his feet! \"And then,\" added\nmy wife, in a tone that seemed to suggest that she considered it my\nfault that the matter had not been brought to a successful conclusion\nlong since, \"what do you think she said? 'Why on earth doesn't he marry\nthis American? So many men of title do now-a-days.' What do you think of\nthat? I can tell you, Dick, I could have shaken her!\"\n\n\"My dear little woman,\" I said in reply, \"will nothing convince you that\nyou are playing with fire? If you are not very careful you will burn\nyour fingers. Gertrude is almost as clever as you are. She sees that you\nare trying to pump her, and very naturally declines to be pumped. You\nwould feel as she does were you in her position.\"\n\n\"I do not know why you should say I am trying to pump her,\" she answered\nwith considerable dignity. \"I consider it a very uncalled-for\nexpression.\"\n\n\"Well, my dear,\" I answered, \"if you are going to attempt to improve\nyour position by splitting straws, then I must stop.\"\n\nThe episode I have just described had taken place after we had retired\nfor the night, and at a time when I am far from being at my best. My\nwife, on the other hand, as I have repeatedly noticed, is invariably\nwide-awake at that hour. Moreover she has an established belief that it\nwould be an impossibility for her to obtain any rest until she has\ncleared up all matters of mystery that may have attracted her attention\nduring the day. I generally fall asleep before she is half-way through,\nand for this reason I am told that I lack interest in what most nearly\nconcerns our welfare.\n\n\"One would at least imagine that you could remain awake to discuss\nevents of so much importance to us and to those about us,\" I have known\nher say. \"I have observed that you can talk about horses, hunting, and\nshooting, with your bachelor friends until two or three o'clock in the\nmorning without falling asleep, but when your wife is anxious to ask\nyour opinion about something that does not concern your amusements, then\nyou must needs go to sleep.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" I replied, \"when all is said and done we are but human. You\nknow as well as I do, that if a man were to come to me when I had\nsettled down for the night, and were to tell me that he knew where to\nlay his hand upon the finest horse in England, and where he could put me\non to ten coveys of partridges within a couple of hundred yards of my\nown front door, that he could even tell me the winner of the Derby, I\nshould answer him as I am now answering you.\"\n\n\"And your reply would be?\"\n\nI am afraid the pains I had been at to illustrate my own argument must\nhave proved too much for me, for I was informed in the morning that I\nhad talked a vast amount of nonsense about seeing Nikola concerning a\nnew pigeon-trap, and had then resigned myself to the arms of Morpheus.\nIf there should be any husbands whose experience have run on similar\nlines, I should be glad to hear from them. But to return to my story.\n\nOne evening, exactly a week after Glenbarth's arrival in Venice, I was\ndressing for dinner when a letter was brought to me. Much to my surprise\nI found it was from Nikola, and in it he inquired whether it would be\npossible for me to spare the time to come and see him that evening. It\nappeared that he was anxious to discuss a certain important matter with\nme. I noticed, however, that he did not mention what that matter was.\nIn a postscript he asked me, as a favour to himself, to come alone.\n\nHaving read the letter I stood for a few moments with it in my hand,\nwondering what I should do. I was not altogether anxious to go out that\nevening; on the other hand I had a strange craving to see Nikola once\nmore. The suggestion that he desired to consult me upon a matter of\nimportance flattered my vanity, particularly as it was of such a nature\nthat he did not desire the presence of a third person. \"Yes,\" I thought,\n\"after all I will go.\" Accordingly I wrote a note to him saying that, if\nthe hour would suit him, I hoped to be with him at half-past nine\no'clock. Then I continued my dressing and presently went down to dinner.\n\nDuring the progress of the meal I mentioned the fact that I had received\nthe letter in question, and asked my friends if they would excuse me if\nI went round in the course of the evening to find out what it was that\nNikola had to say to me. Perhaps by virtue of my early training, perhaps\nby natural instinct, I am a keen observer of trifles. On this occasion I\nnoticed that from the moment I mentioned the fact of my having received\na letter from Nikola, Miss Trevor ate scarcely any more dinner. Upon my\nmentioning his name she had looked at me with a startled expression\nupon her face. She said nothing, however, but I observed that her left\nhand, which she had a trick of keeping below the table as much as\npossible, was for some moments busily engaged in picking pieces from the\nroll beside her plate. For some reason she had suddenly grown nervous\nagain, but why she should have done so passes my comprehension. When the\nladies had retired, and we were sitting together over our wine,\nGlenbarth returned to the subject of my visit that evening.\n\n\"By Jove, my dear fellow,\" he said, \"I don't envy you your excursion to\nthat house. Don't you feel a bit nervous about it yourself?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Why should I?\" I asked. \"If the truth must be told I am a good deal\nmore afraid of Nikola than I am of his house. I don't fancy on the\npresent occasion, however, I have any reason to dread either.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the Duke with a laugh, \"if you are not home by\nbreakfast-time to-morrow morning I shall bring the police round, and\nlook down that trap-door. You'll take a revolver with you of course?\"\n\n\"I shall do nothing of the kind,\" I replied. \"I am quite able to take\ncare of myself without having recourse to fire-arms.\"\n\nNevertheless, when I went up to my room to change my coat, prior to\nleaving the house, I took a small revolver from my dressing-case and\nweighed it in my hand. \"Shall I take it or shall I not?\" was the\nquestion I asked myself. Eventually I shook my head and replaced it in\nits hiding-place. Then, switching off the electric light, I made for the\ndoor, only to return, re-open the dressing-case, and take out the\nrevolver. Without further argument I slipped it into the pocket of my\ncoat and then left the room.\n\nA quarter of an hour later my gondolier had turned into the Rio del\nConsiglio, and was approaching the Palace Revecce. The house was in\ndeep shadow, and looked very dark and lonesome. The gondolier seemed to\nbe of the same opinion, for he was anxious to set me down, to collect\nhis fare, and to get away again as soon as possible. Standing in the\nporch I rang the great bell which Nikola had pointed out to me, and\nwhich we had not observed on the morning of our first visit. It clanged\nand echoed somewhere in the rearmost portion of the house, intensifying\nthe loneliness of the situation and adding a new element of mystery to\nthat abominable dwelling. In spite of my boast to Glenbarth I was not\naltogether at my ease. It was one thing to pretend that I had no\nobjection to the place when I was seated in a well-lighted room, with a\nglass of port at my hand, and a stalwart friend opposite; it was quite\nanother, however, to be standing in the dark at that ancient portal,\nwith the black water of the canal at my feet and the anticipation of\nthat sombre room ahead. Then I heard the sound of footsteps crossing the\ncourtyard, and a moment later Nikola himself stood before me and invited\nme to enter. A solitary lamp had been placed upon the coping of the\nwall, and its fitful light illuminated the courtyard, throwing long\nshadows across the pavement and making it look even drearier and more\nunwholesome than when I had last seen it. After we had shaken hands we\nmade our way in silence up the great staircase, our steps echoing along\nthe stone corridors with startling reverberations. How thankful I was at\nlast to reach the warm, well-lit room, despite the story Nikola had told\nus about it, I must leave you to imagine.\n\n\"Please sit down,\" said Nikola, pushing a chair forward for my\noccupation. \"It is exceedingly kind of you to have complied with my\nrequest. I trust Lady Hatteras and Miss Trevor are well?\"\n\n\"Thank you, they are both well,\" I replied. \"They both begged to be\nremembered to you.\"\n\nNikola bowed his thanks, and then, when he had placed a box of excellent\ncigars at my elbow, prepared and lighted a cigarette for himself. All\nthis time I was occupying myself wondering why he had asked me to come\nto him that evening, and what the upshot of the interview was to be.\nKnowing him as I did, I was aware that his actions were never\nmotiveless. Everything he did was to be accounted for by some very good\nreason. After he had tendered his thanks to me for coming to see him, he\nwas silent for some minutes, for so long indeed that I began to wonder\nwhether he had forgotten my presence. In order to attract his attention\nI commented upon the fact that we had not seen him for more than a week.\n\n\"I have been away,\" he answered, with what was plainly an attempt to\npull himself together. \"Business of a most important nature called me to\nthe south of Italy, to Naples in fact, and I only returned this\nmorning.\"\n\nOnce more he was silent. Then leaning towards me and speaking with even\ngreater impressiveness than he had yet done, he continued--\n\n\"Hatteras, I am going to ask you a question, and then, with your\npermission, I should like to tell you a story.\"\n\nNot knowing what else to do I simply bowed. I was more than ever\nconvinced that Nikola was going to make use of me.\n\n\"Have you ever wondered,\" he began, still looking me straight in the\nface, and speaking with great earnestness, \"what it was first made me\nthe man I am?\"\n\nI replied to the effect that I had often wondered, but naturally had\nnever been able to come to a satisfactory conclusion.\n\n\"Some day you shall know the history of my life,\" he answered. \"But not\njust yet. There is much to be done before then. And now I am going to\ngive you the story I promised you. You will see why I have told it to\nyou when I have finished.\"\n\nHe rose from his chair and began to pace the room. I had never seen\nNikola so agitated before. When he turned and faced me again his eyes\nshone like diamonds, while his body quivered with suppressed excitement.\n\n\"Hatteras,\" he went on, when he had somewhat mastered his emotion, \"I\ndoubt very much if ever in this world's history there has been a man who\nhas suffered more than I have done. As I said just now, the whole story\nI cannot tell you at present. Some day it will come in its proper place\nand you will know everything. In the meantime----\"\n\nHe paused for a few moments and then continued abruptly--\n\n\"The story concerns a woman, a native of this city; the last of an\nimpoverished, but ancient family. She married a man many years her\nsenior, whom she did not love. When they had been married just over four\nyears her husband died, leaving her with one child to fight the battles\nof the world alone. The boy was nearly three years old, a sturdy, clever\nlittle urchin, who, up to that time, had never known the meaning of the\nword trouble. Then there came to Venice a man, a Spaniard, as handsome\nas a serpent, and as cruel. After a while he made the woman believe that\nhe loved her. She returned his affection, and in due time they were\nmarried. A month later he was appointed Governor of one of the Spanish\nislands off the American coast--a post he had long been eager to obtain.\nWhen he departed to take up his position it was arranged that, as soon\nas all was prepared, the woman and her child should follow him. They did\nso, and at length reached the island and took up their abode, not at the\npalace, as the woman had expected, but in the native city. For the\nGovernor feared, or pretended to fear, that, as his marriage had not\nbeen made public at first, it might compromise his position. The woman,\nhowever, who loved him, was content, for her one thought was to promote\nhis happiness. At first the man made believe to be overjoyed at having\nher with him once again, then, little by little, he showed that he was\ntired of her. Another woman had attracted his fancy, and he had\ntransferred his affections to her. The other heard of it. Her southern\nblood was roused, for though she had been poor, she was, as I have said,\nthe descendant of one of the oldest Venetian families. As his wife she\nendeavoured to defend herself, then came the crushing blow, delivered\nwith all the brutality of a savage nature.\n\n\"'You are not my wife,' he said. 'I had already a wife living when I\nmarried you.'\n\n\"She left him without another word and went away to hide her shame. Six\nmonths later the fever took her and she died. Thus the boy was left, at\nfive years old, without a friend or protector in the world. Happily,\nhowever, a humble couple took compassion on him, and, after a time,\ndetermined to bring him up as their own. The old man was a great\nscholar, and had devoted all his life to the exhaustive study of the\noccult sciences. To educate the boy, when he grew old enough to\nunderstand, was his one delight. He was never weary of teaching him, nor\ndid the boy ever tire of learning. It was a mutual labour of love. Seven\nyears later saw both the lad's benefactors at rest in the little\nchurchyard beneath the palms, and the boy himself homeless once more.\nBut he was not destined to remain so for very long; the priest, who had\nburied his adopted parents, spoke to the Governor, little dreaming what\nhe was doing, of the boy's pitiable condition. It was as if the devil\nhad prompted him, for the Spaniard was anxious to find a playfellow for\nhis son, a lad two years the other's junior. It struck him that the waif\nwould fill the position admirably. He was accordingly deported to the\npalace to enter upon the most miserable period of his life. His likeness\nto his mother was unmistakable, and when he noticed it, the Governor,\nwho had learned the secret, hated him for it, as only those hate who are\nconscious of their wrong-doing. From that moment his cruelty knew no\nbounds. The boy was powerless to defend himself. All that he could do\nwas to loathe his oppressor with all the intensity of his fiery nature,\nand to pray that the day might come when he should be able to repay. To\nhis own son the Governor was passionately attached. In his eyes the\nlatter could do no wrong. For any of his misdeeds it was the stranger\nwho bore the punishment. On the least excuse he was stripped and beaten\nlike a slave. The Governor's son, knowing his power, and the other's\ninordinate sensitiveness, derived his chief pleasure in inventing new\ncruelties for him. To describe all that followed would be impossible.\nWhen nothing else would rouse him, it was easy to bring him to an\nungovernable pitch of fury by insulting his mother's name, with whose\nhistory the servants had, by this time, made their master's son\nacquainted. Once, driven into a paroxysm of fury by the other's insults,\nthe lad picked up a knife and rushed at his tormentor with the intention\nof stabbing him. His attempt, however, failed, and the boy, foaming at\nthe mouth, was carried before the Governor. I will spare you a\ndescription of the punishment that was meted out for his offence. Let it\nsuffice that there are times even now, when the mere thought of it is\nsufficient to bring--but there--why should I continue in this strain?\nAll that I am telling you happened many years ago, but the memory\nremains clear and distinct, while the desire for vengeance is as keen as\nif it had happened but yesterday. What is more, the end is coming, as\nsurely as the lad once hoped and prophesied it would.\"\n\nNikola paused for a moment and sank into his chair. I had never seen him\nso affected. His face was deathly pale, while his eyes blazed like\nliving coals.\n\n\"What became of the boy at last?\" I inquired, knowing all the while that\nhe had been speaking of himself.\n\n\"He escaped from the island, and went out into the world. The Governor\nis dead; he has gone to meet the woman, or women, he has so cruelly\nwronged. His son has climbed the ladder of Fame, but he has never lost,\nas his record shows, the cruel heart he possessed as a boy. Do you\nremember the story of the Revolution in the Republic of Equinata?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"The Republics of South America indulge so constantly in their little\namusements that it is difficult for an outsider to remember every\nparticular one,\" I answered.\n\n\"Well, let me tell you about it. When the Republic of Equinata suffered\nfrom its first Revolution, this man was its President. But for his\ntyranny and injustice it would not have taken place. He it was who,\nfinding that the Rebellion was spreading, captured a certain town, and\nbade the eldest son of each of the influential families wait upon him at\nhis headquarters on the morning following its capitulation. His excuse\nwas that he desired them as hostages for their parents' good behaviour.\nAs it was, however, to wreak his vengeance on the city, which had\nopposed him, instead of siding with him, he placed them against a wall\nand shot them down by the half-dozen. But he was not destined to\nsucceed. Gradually he was driven back upon his Capital, his troops\ndeserting day by day. Then, one night he boarded a ship that was waiting\nfor him in the harbour, and from that moment Equinata saw him no more.\nIt was not until some days afterwards that it was discovered that he had\ndespatched vast sums of money, which he had misappropriated, out\nof the country, ahead of him. Where he is now hiding I am the\nonly man who knows. I have tracked him to his lair, and I am\nwaiting--waiting--waiting--for the moment to arrive when the innocent\nblood that has so long cried to Heaven will be avenged. Let him look to\nhimself when that day arrives. For as there is a God above us, he will\nbe punished as man was never punished before.\"\n\nThe expression upon his face as he said this was little short of\ndevilish; the ghastly pallor of his skin, the dark, glittering eyes, and\nhis jet-black hair made up a picture that will never fade from my\nmemory.\n\n\"God help his enemy if they should meet,\" I said to myself. Then his\nmood suddenly changed, and he was once more the quiet, suave Nikola to\nwhom I had become accustomed. Every sign of passion had vanished from\nhis face. A transformation more complete could scarcely have been\nimagined.\n\n\"My dear fellow,\" he said, without a trace of emotion in his voice, \"you\nmust really forgive me for having bored you with my long story. I cannot\nthink what made me do so, unless it is that I have been brooding over it\nall day, and felt the need of a confidant. You will make an allowance\nfor me, will you not?\"\n\n\"Most willingly,\" I answered. \"If the story you have told me concerns\nyourself, you have my most heartfelt sympathy. You have suffered\nindeed.\"\n\nHe stopped for a moment in his restless walk up and down the room, and\neyed me carefully as if he were trying to read my thoughts.\n\n\"Suffered?\" he said at last, and then paused. \"Yes, I have suffered--but\nothers have suffered more. But do not let us talk of it. I was foolish\nto have touched upon it, for I know by experience the effect it produces\nupon me.\"\n\nAs he spoke he crossed to the window, which he threw open. It was a\nglorious night, and the sound of women's voices singing reached us from\nthe Grand Canal. On the other side of the watery highway the houses\nlooked strangely mysterious in the weird light. At that moment I felt\nmore drawn towards Nikola than I had ever done before. The man's\nloneliness, his sufferings, had a note of singular pathos for me. I\nforgot the injuries he had done me, and before I knew what I was doing,\nI had placed my hand upon his shoulder.\n\n\"Nikola,\" I said, \"if I were to try I could not make you understand how\ntruly sorry I am for you. The life you lead is so unlike that of any\nother man. You see only the worst side of Human Nature. Why not leave\nthis terrible gloom? Give up these experiments upon which you are always\nengaged, and live only in the pure air of the commonplace every-day\nworld. Your very surroundings--this house, for instance--are not like\nthose of other men. Believe me, there are other things worth living for\nbesides the Science which binds you in its chains. If you could learn to\nlove a good woman----\"\n\n\"My dear Hatteras,\" he put in, more softly than I had ever heard him\nspeak, \"woman's love is not for me. As you say, I am lonely in the\nworld, God knows how lonely, yet lonely I must be content to remain.\"\nThen leaning his hands upon the window-sill, he looked out upon the\nsilent night, and I heard him mutter to himself, \"Yes, lonely to the\nEnd.\" After that he closed the window abruptly, and turning to me, asked\nhow long we contemplated remaining in Venice.\n\n\"I cannot say yet,\" I answered, \"the change is doing my wife so much\ngood that I am anxious to prolong our stay. At first we thought of going\nto the South of France, but that idea has been abandoned, and we may be\nhere another month.\"\n\n\"A month,\" he said to himself, as if he were reflecting upon something;\nthen he added somewhat inconsequently, \"You should be able to see a\ngreat deal of Venice in a month.\"\n\n\"And how long will you be here?\" I asked.\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"It is impossible to say,\" he answered. \"I never know my own mind for\ntwo days together. I may be here another week, or I may be here a year.\nSomehow, I have a conviction, I cannot say why, that this will prove to\nbe my last visit to Venice. I should be sorry never to see it again, yet\nwhat must be, must. Destiny will have its way, whatever we may say or do\nto the contrary.\"\n\nAt that moment there was the sound of a bell clanging in the courtyard\nbelow. At such an hour it had an awe-inspiring sound, and I know that I\nshuddered as I heard it.\n\n\"Who can it be?\" said Nikola, turning towards the door. \"This is\nsomewhat late for calling hours. Will you excuse me if I go down and\nfind out the meaning of it?\"\n\n\"Do so, by all means,\" I answered. \"I think I must be going also. It is\ngetting late.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" he said, \"stay a little longer. If it is as I suspect, I fancy\nI shall be able to show you something that may interest you. Endeavour\nto make yourself comfortable until I return. I shall not be away many\nminutes.\"\n\nSo saying, he left me, closing the door behind him. When I was alone, I\nlit a cigar and strolled to the window, which I opened. My worst enemy\ncould not call me a coward, but I must confess that I derived no\npleasure from being in that room alone. The memory of what lay under\nthat oriental rug was vividly impressed upon my memory. In my mind I\ncould smell the vaults below, and it would have required only a very\nsmall stretch of the imagination to have fancied I could hear the groans\nof the dying man proceeding from it. Then a feeling of curiosity came\nover me to see who Nikola's visitor was. By leaning well out of the\nwindow, I could look down on the great door below. At the foot of the\nsteps a gondola was drawn up, but I was unable to see whether there was\nany one in it or not. Who was Nikola's mysterious caller, and what made\nhim come at such an hour? Knowing the superstitious horror in which the\nhouse was held by the populace of Venice, I felt that whoever he was, he\nmust have had an imperative reason for his visit. I was still turning\nthe subject over in my mind, when the door opened and Nikola entered,\nfollowed by two men. One was tall and swarthy, wore a short black beard,\nand had a crafty expression upon his face. The other was about middle\nheight, very broad, and was the possessor of a bullet-head covered with\nclose-cropped hair. Both were of the lower class, and their nationality\nwas unmistakable. Turning to me, Nikola said in English--\n\n\"It is as I expected. Now, if you care to study character, here is your\nopportunity. The taller man is a Police Agent, the other the chief of a\nnotorious Secret Society. I should first explain that within the last\ntwo or three days I have been helping a young Italian of rather advanced\nviews, not to put too fine a point upon it, to leave the country for\nAmerica. This dog has dared to try to upset my plans. Immediately I\nheard of it I sent word to him, by means of our friend here, that he was\nto present himself here before twelve o'clock to-night without fail.\nFrom his action it would appear that he is more frightened of me than he\nis of the Secret Society. That is as it should be; for I intend to teach\nhim a little lesson which will prevent him from interfering with my\nplans in the future. You were talking of my science just now, and\nadvising me to abandon it. Could the life you offer me give me the power\nI possess now? Could the respectability of Clapham recompense me for the\nknowledge with which the East can furnish me?\"\n\nThen turning to the Police Agent he addressed him in Italian, speaking\nso fast that it was impossible for me to follow him. From what little I\ncould make out, however, I gathered that he was rating him for daring to\ninterfere with his concerns. When, at the end of three or four minutes,\nhe paused and spoke more slowly, this was the gist of his speech--\n\n\"You know me and the power I control. You are aware that those who\nthwart me, or who interfere with me and my concerns, do so at their own\nrisk. Since no harm has come of it, thanks to certain good friends, I\nwill forgive on this occasion, but let it happen again and this is what\nyour end will be.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Presently a picture shaped itself in the cloud.\"]\n\nAs he spoke he took from his pocket a small glass bottle with a gold\ntop, not unlike a vinaigrette, and emptied some of the white powder it\ncontained into the palm of his hand. Turning down the lamp he dropped\nthis into the chimney. A green flame shot up for a moment, which was\nsucceeded by a cloud of perfumed smoke that filled the room so\ncompletely that for a moment it was impossible for us to see each other.\nPresently a picture shaped itself in the cloud and held my attention\nspell-bound. Little by little it developed until I was able to make out\na room, or rather I should say a vault, in which upwards of a dozen men\nwere seated at a long table. They were all masked, and without exception\nwere clad in long monkish robes with cowls of black cloth. Presently\na sign was made by the man at the head of the table, an individual\nwith a venerable grey beard, and two more black figures entered, who led\na man between them. Their prisoner was none other than the Police Agent\nwhom Nikola had warned. He looked thinner, however, and was evidently\nmuch frightened by his position. Once more the man at the head of the\ntable raised his hand, and there entered at the other side an old man,\nwith white hair and a long beard of the same colour. Unlike the others\nhe wore no cowl, nor was he masked. From his gestures I could see that\nhe was addressing those seated at the table, and, as he pointed to the\nprisoner, a look of undying hatred spread over his face. Then the man at\nthe head of the table rose, and though I could hear nothing of what he\nsaid, I gathered that he was addressing his brethren concerning the\ncase. When he had finished, and each of the assembly had voted by\nholding up his hand, he turned to the prisoner. As he did so the scene\nvanished instantly and another took its place.\n\nIt was a small room that I looked upon now, furnished only with a bed, a\ntable, and a chair. At the door was a man who had figured as a prisoner\nin the previous picture, but now sadly changed. He seemed to have shrunk\nto half his former size, his face was pinched by starvation, his eyes\nwere sunken, but there was an even greater look of terror in them than\nhad been there before. Opening the door of the room he listened, and\nthen shut and locked it again. It was as if he were afraid to go out,\nand yet knew that if he remained where he was, he must perish of\nstarvation. Gradually the room began to grow dark, and the terrified\nwretch paced restlessly up and down, listening at the door every now and\nthen. Once more the picture vanished as its companion had done, and a\nthird took its place. This proved to be a narrow street-scene by\nmoonlight. On either side the houses towered up towards the sky, and\nsince there was no one about, it was plain that the night was far\nadvanced. Presently, creeping along in the shadow, on the left-hand\nside, searching among the refuse and garbage of the street for food,\ncame the man I had seen afraid to leave his attic. Times out of number\nhe looked swiftly behind him, as if he thought it possible that he might\nbe followed. He was but little more than half-way up the street, and was\nstooping to pick up something, when two dark figures emerged from a\npassage on the left, and swiftly approached him. Before he had time to\ndefend himself, they were upon him, and a moment later he was lying\nstretched out upon his back in the middle of the street, a dead man.\nThe moon shone down full and clear upon his face, the memory of which\nmakes me shudder even now. Then the picture faded away and the room was\nlight once more. Instinctively I looked at the Police Agent. His usually\nswarthy face was deathly pale, and from the great beads of perspiration\nthat stood upon his forehead, I gathered that he had seen the picture\ntoo.\n\n\"Now,\" said Nikola, addressing him, \"you have seen what is in store for\nyou if you persist in pitting yourself against me. You recognized that\ngrey-haired man, who had appealed to the Council against you. Then, rest\nassured of this! So surely as you continue your present conduct, so\nsurely will the doom I have just revealed to you overtake you. Now go,\nand remember what I have said.\"\n\nTurning to the smaller man, Nikola placed his hand in a kindly fashion\nupon his shoulder.\n\n\"You have done well, Tomasso,\" he said, \"and I am pleased with you. Drop\nour friend here at the usual place, and see that some one keeps an eye\non him. I don't think, however, he will dare to offend again.\"\n\nOn hearing this, the two men left the room and descended to the\ncourtyard together, and I could easily imagine with what delight one of\nthem would leave the house. When they had gone, Nikola, who was\nstanding at the window, turned to me, saying--\n\n\"What do you think of my conjuring?\"\n\nI knew not what answer to make that would satisfy him. The whole thing\nseemed so impossible that, had it not been for the pungent odour that\nstill lingered in the room, I could have believed I had fallen asleep\nand dreamed it all.\n\n\"You can give me no explanation, then?\" said Nikola, with one of his\ninscrutable smiles. \"And yet, having accumulated this power, this\nknowledge, call it what you will, you would still bid me give up\nScience. Come, my friend, you have seen something of what I can do;\nwould you be brave enough to try, with my help, to look into what is\ncalled The Great Unknown, and see what the Future has in store for you?\nI fancy it could be done. Are you to be tempted to see your own end?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" I cried, \"I will have nothing to do with such an unholy thing.\nGood heavens, man! from that moment life would be unendurable!\"\n\n\"You think so, do you?\" he said slowly, still keeping his eyes fixed on\nme. \"And yet I have tried it myself.\"\n\n\"My God, Nikola!\" I answered in amazement, for I knew him well enough to\nfeel sure that he was not talking idly, \"you don't mean to tell me that\nyou know what your own end is going to be?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" he answered. \"I have seen it all. It is not pleasant; but I\nthink I may say without vanity that it will be an end worthy of myself.\"\n\n\"But now that you know it, can you not avert it?\"\n\n\"Nothing can be averted,\" he answered solemnly. \"As I said before these\nmen entered, what must be, must. What does Schiller say? '_Noch niemand\nentfloh dem verhangten Geschick._'\"\n\n\"And you were brave enough to look?\"\n\n\"Does it require so much bravery, do you think? Believe me, there are\nthings which require more.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Ah! I cannot tell you now,\" he answered, shaking his head. \"Some day\nyou will know.\"\n\nThen there was a silence for a few seconds, during which we both stood\nlooking down at the moonlit water below. At last, having consulted my\nwatch and seeing how late it was, I told him that it was time for me to\nbid him good-night.\n\n\"I am very grateful to you for coming, Hatteras,\" he said. \"It has\ncheered me up. It does me good to see you. Through you I get a whiff of\nthat other life of which you spoke a while back. I want to make you\nlike me, and I fancy I am succeeding.\"\n\nThen we left the room together, and went down the stairs to the\ncourtyard below. Side by side we stood upon the steps waiting for a\ngondola to put in an appearance. It was some time before one came in\nsight, but when it did so I hailed it, and then shook Nikola by the hand\nand bade him good-night.\n\n\"Good-night,\" he answered. \"Pray remember me kindly to Lady Hatteras and\nto--Miss Trevor.\"\n\nThe little pause before Miss Trevor's name caused me to look at him in\nsome surprise. He noticed it and spoke at once.\n\n\"You may think it strange of me to say so,\" he said, \"but I cannot help\nfeeling interested in that young lady. Impossible though it may seem, I\nhave a well-founded conviction that in some way her star is destined to\ncross mine, and before very long. I have only seen her twice in my life\nin the flesh; but many years ago her presence on the earth was revealed\nto me, and I was warned that some day we should meet. What that meeting\nwill mean to me it is impossible to say, but in its own good time Fate\nwill doubtless tell me. And now, once more, good-night.\"\n\n\"Good-night,\" I answered mechanically, for I was too much surprised by\nhis words to think what I was saying. Then I entered the gondola and\nbade the man take me back to my hotel.\n\n\"Surely Nikola has taken leave of his senses,\" I said to myself as I was\nrowed along. \"Gertrude Trevor was the very last person in the world that\nI should have expected Nikola to make such a statement about.\"\n\nAt this point, however, I remembered how curiously she had been affected\nby their first meeting, and my mind began to be troubled concerning her.\n\n\"Let us hope and pray that Nikola doesn't take it into his head to\nimagine himself in love with her,\" I continued to myself. \"If he were to\ndo so I scarcely know what the consequences would be.\"\n\nThen, with a touch of the absurd, I wondered what her father, the\neminently respected dean, would say to having Nikola for a son-in-law.\nBy the time I had reached this point in my reverie the gondola had drawn\nup at the steps of the hotel.\n\nMy wife and Miss Trevor had gone to bed, but Glenbarth was sitting up\nfor me.\n\n\"Well, you have paid him a long visit, in all conscience,\" he said a\nlittle reproachfully. Then he added, with what was intended to be a\ntouch of sarcasm, \"I hope you have spent a pleasant evening?\"\n\n\"I am not quite so certain about that,\" I replied.\n\n\"Indeed. Then what have you discovered?\"\n\n\"One thing of importance,\" I answered; \"that Nikola grows more and more\ninscrutable every day.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nThe more I thought upon my strange visit to the Palace Revecce that\nevening, the more puzzled I was by it. It had so many sides, and each so\ncomplex, that I scarcely knew which presented the most curious feature.\nWhat Nikola's real reason had been for inviting me to call upon him, and\nwhy he should have told me the story, which I felt quite certain was\nthat of his own life, was more than I could understand. Moreover, why,\nhaving told it me, he should have so suddenly requested me to think no\nmore about it, only added to my bewilderment. The incident of the two\nmen, and the extraordinary conjuring trick, for conjuring trick it\ncertainly was in the real meaning of the word, he had shown us, did not\nhelp to elucidate matters. If the truth must be told it rather added to\nthe mystery than detracted from it. To sum it all up, I found, when I\nendeavoured to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, remembering also\nhis strange remark concerning Miss Trevor, that I was as far from\ncoming to any conclusion as I had been at the beginning.\n\n\"You can have no idea how nervous I have been on your account to-night,\"\nsaid my wife, when I reached her room. \"After dinner the Duke gave us a\ndescription of Doctor Nikola's room, and told us its history. When I\nthought of your being there alone with him, I must confess I felt almost\ninclined to send a message to you imploring you to come home.\"\n\n\"That would have been a great mistake, my dear,\" I answered. \"You would\nhave offended Nikola, and we don't want to do that. I am sorry the Duke\ntold you that terrible story. He should not have frightened you with it.\nWhat did Gertrude Trevor think of it?\"\n\n\"She did not say anything about it,\" my wife replied. \"But I could see\nthat she was as frightened as I was. I am quite sure you would not get\neither of us to go there, however pressing Doctor Nikola's invitation\nmight be. Now tell me what he wanted to see you about.\"\n\n\"He felt lonely and wanted some society,\" I answered, having resolved\nthat on no account would I tell her all the truth concerning my visit to\nthe Palace Revecce. \"He also wanted me to witness something connected\nwith a scheme he has originated for enabling people to get out of the\ncountry unobserved by the police. Before I left he gave me a good\nexample of the power he possessed.\"\n\nI then described to her the arrival of the two men and the lesson Nikola\nhad read to the Police Agent. The portion dealing with the conjuring\ntrick I omitted. No good could have accrued from frightening her, and I\nknew that the sort of description I should be able to give of it would\nnot be sufficiently impressive to enable her to see it in the light I\ndesired. In any other way it would have struck her as ridiculous.\n\n\"The man grows more and more extraordinary every day,\" she said. \"And\nnot the least extraordinary thing about him is the way he affects other\npeople. For my own part I must confess that, while I fear him, I like\nhim; the Duke is frankly afraid of him; you are interested and repelled\nin turn; while Gertrude, I fancy, regards him as a sort of supernatural\nbeing, who may turn one into a horse or a dog at a moment's notice,\nwhile Senor Galaghetti, with whom I had a short conversation to-day\nconcerning him, was so enthusiastic in his praises that for once words\nfailed him. He had never met any one so wonderful, he declared. He would\nlay down his life for him. It would appear that, on one occasion, when\nNikola was staying at the hotel, he cured Galaghetti's eldest child of\ndiphtheria. The child was at the last gasp and the doctors had given\nher up, when Nikola made his appearance upon the scene. What he did, or\nhow he did it, Galaghetti did not tell me, but it must have been\nsomething decidedly irregular, for the other doctors were aghast and\nleft the house in a body. The child, however, rallied from that moment,\nand, as Galaghetti proudly informed me, 'is now de artiste of great\nrepute upon de pianoforte in Paris.' I have never heard of her, but it\nwould appear that Galaghetti not only attributes her life, but also her\nmusical success, to the fact that Nikola was staying in the hotel at the\ntime when the child was taken ill. The Duke was with me when Galaghetti\ntold me this, and, when he heard it, he turned away with an exclamation\nthat sounded very like 'humbug!' I do hope that Doctor Nikola and the\nDuke won't quarrel?\"\n\nAs she put this in the form of a question, I felt inclined to reply with\nthe expression the Duke had used. I did not do so, however, but\ncontented myself with assuring her that she need have no fears upon that\nscore. A surprise, however, was in store for me.\n\n\"What have they to quarrel about?\" I asked. \"They have nothing in\ncommon.\"\n\n\"That only proves how blind you are to what goes on around you,\" my wife\nreplied. \"Have you not noticed that they _both admire Gertrude\nTrevor_?\"\n\nFalling so pat upon my own thoughts, this gave me food for serious\nreflection.\n\n\"How do you know that Nikola admires her?\" I asked, a little sharply, I\nfear, for when one has uncomfortable suspicions one is not always best\npleased to find that another shares them. A double suspicion might be\ndescribed as almost amounting to a certainty.\n\n\"I am confident of it,\" she replied. \"Did you not notice his manner\ntowards her on the night of our excursion? It was most marked.\"\n\n\"My dear girl,\" I said irritably, \"if you are going to begin this sort\nof thing, you don't know where you will find yourself in the end. Nikola\nhas been a wanderer all his life. He has met people of every\nnationality, of every rank and description. It is scarcely probable,\ncharming though I am prepared to admit she is, that he would be\nattracted by our friend. Besides, I had it from his own lips this\nmorning that he will never marry.\"\n\n\"You may be just as certain as you please,\" she answered. \"Nevertheless,\nI adhere to my opinion.\"\n\nKnowing what was in my own mind, and feeling that if the argument\ncontinued I might let something slip that I should regret, I withdrew\nfrom the field, and, having questioned her concerning certain news she\nhad received from England that day, bade her good-night.\n\nNext morning we paid a visit to the Palace of the Doges, and spent a\npleasant and instructive couple of hours in the various rooms. Whatever\n_Nikola's_ feelings may have been, there was by this time not the least\ndoubt that the Duke admired Miss Trevor. Though the lad had known her\nfor so short a time he was already head over ears in love. I think\nGertrude was aware of the fact, and I feel sure that she liked him, but\nwhether the time was not yet ripe, or her feminine instinct warned her\nto play her fish for a while before attempting to land him, I cannot\nsay; at any rate she more than once availed herself of an opportunity\nand moved away from him to take her place at my side. As you may\nsuppose, Glenbarth was not rendered any the happier by these manoeuvres;\nindeed, by the time we left the Palace, he was as miserable a human\nbeing as could have been found in all Venice. Before lunch, however, she\nrelented a little towards him, and when we sat down to the meal in\nquestion our friend had in some measure recovered his former spirits.\nNot so my wife, however; though I did not guess it, I was in for a\nwigging.\n\n\"How could you treat the poor fellow so badly?\" she said indignantly,\nwhen we were alone together afterwards. \"If you are not very careful\nyou'll spoil everything.\"\n\n\"Spoil what?\" I inquired, as if I did not understand to what she\nalluded. \"You have lately developed a habit of speaking in riddles.\"\n\n\"Fiddle-de-dee!\" she answered scornfully, \"you know very well to what I\nallude. I think your conduct at the Palace this morning was disgraceful.\nYou, a married man and a father, to try and spoil the pleasure of that\npoor young man.\"\n\n\"But she began it,\" I answered in self-defence. \"Did you not see that\nshe preferred my company to his?\"\n\n\"Of course that was only make-believe,\" my wife replied. \"You are as\nwell aware of that as I am.\"\n\n\"I know nothing of the kind,\" I returned. \"If the girl does not know her\nown mind, then it is safer that she should pretend, as she did to-day.\"\n\n\"She was not pretending. You know that Gertrude Trevor is as honest as\nthe day.\"\n\n\"Then you admit that she was only playing her fish?\" I said.\n\n\"If you are going to be vulgar I shall leave you,\" she retorted; \"I\ndon't know what you mean by 'playing her fish.' Gertrude only came to\nyou because she did not want to allow her liking for the Duke to appear\ntoo conspicuous.\"\n\n\"It's the same thing in the end,\" I answered. \"Believe me it is! You\ndescribe it as not making her conduct appear too conspicuous, while I\ncall it 'playing her fish.' I have the best possible recollection of a\nyoung lady who used to play quoits with me on the deck of the _Orotava_\na good many years ago. One day--we were approaching Naples at the\ntime--she played game after game with the doctor, and snubbed me\nunmercifully.\"\n\n\"You know very well that I didn't mean it,\" she answered, with a stamp\nof her foot. \"You know I had to act as I did.\"\n\n\"I don't mind admitting that,\" I replied. \"Nevertheless, you were\nplaying your fish. That night after dinner you forgave me and----\"\n\nShe slipped her arm through mine and gave it a hug. I could afford to be\ngenerous.\n\n\"Those were dear old days, were they not? I, for one, am not going to\nquarrel about them. Now let us go and find the others.\"\n\nWe discovered them in the balcony, listening to some musicians in a\ngondola below. Miss Trevor plainly hailed our coming with delight; the\nDuke, however, was by no means so well pleased. He did his best,\nhowever, to conceal his chagrin. Going to the edge of the balcony I\nlooked down at the boat. The musicians were four in number, two men and\ntwo girls, and, at the moment of our putting in an appearance, one of\nthem was singing the \"Ave Maria\" from the _Cavalleria Rusticana_, in a\nmanner that I had seldom heard it sung before. She was a handsome girl,\nand knew the value of her good looks. Beside her stood a man with a\nguitar, and I gave a start as I looked at him. Did my eyes deceive me,\nor was this the man who had accompanied the Police Agent to Nikola's\nresidence on the previous evening? I looked again and felt sure that I\ncould not be mistaken. He possessed the same bullet-head with the\nclose-cropped hair, the same clean-shaven face, and the same peculiarly\nsquare shoulders. No! I felt sure that he was the man. But if so, what\nwas he doing here under our windows? One thing was quite apparent; if he\nrecognized me, he did not give me evidence of the fact. He played and\nlooked up at us without the slightest sign of recognition. To all\nintents and purposes he was the picture of indifference. While they were\nperforming I recalled the scene of the previous night, and wondered what\nhad become of the police officer, and what the man below me had thought\nof the curious trick Nikola had performed? It was only when they had\nfinished their entertainment and, having received our reward, were about\nto move away that I received any information to the effect that the man\nhad recognized me.\n\n\"Illustrious Senora, Senorita, and Senors, I thank you,\" he said,\npolitely lifting his hat as he spoke. \"Our performance has been\nsuccessful, and the obstacle which threatened it at one time has been\nremoved.\"\n\nThe gondola then passed on, and I turned to the Duke as if for an\nexplanation.\n\n\"At first the hall-porter was not inclined to let them sing here,\" the\nDuke remarked, \"but Miss Trevor wanted to hear them, so I sent word down\nthat I wished them to remain.\"\n\nIn spite of the explanation I understood to what the man had referred,\nbut for the life of me I could not arrive at his reason for visiting our\nhotel that day. I argued that it might have been all a matter of chance,\nbut I soon put that idea aside as absurd. The coincidence was too\nremarkable.\n\nAt lunch my wife announced that she had heard that morning that Lady\nBeltringham, the wife of our neighbour in the Forest, was in Venice, and\nstaying at a certain hotel further along the Grand Canal.\n\n\"Gertrude and I are going to call upon her this afternoon,\" she said,\n\"so that you two gentlemen must amuse yourselves as best you can without\nus.\"\n\n\"That is very easily done,\" I answered; \"the Duke is going to have his\nhair cut, and I am going to witness the atrocity. You may expect to see\nhim return not unlike that man with the guitar in the boat this\nmorning.\"\n\n\"By the way,\" said Glenbarth, \"that reminds me that I was going to point\nout a curious thing to you concerning that man. Did you notice, Miss\nTrevor, that when we were alone together in the balcony he did not once\ntouch his instrument, but directly Hatteras and Lady Hatteras arrived,\nhe jumped up and began to play?\"\n\nThis confirmed my suspicions. I had quite come to the conclusion by this\ntime that the man had only made his appearance before the hotel in order\nto be certain of my address. Yet, I had to ask myself, if he were in\nNikola's employ, why should he have been anxious to do so?\n\nAn hour later the ladies departed on their polite errand, and the Duke\nand I were left together. He was not what I should call a good\ncompanion. He was in an irritable mood, and nothing I could do or say\nseemed to comfort him. I knew very well what was the matter, and when\nwe had exhausted English politics, the rise and fall of Venice, Ruskin,\nand the advantages of foreign travel, I mentioned incidentally the name\nof Miss Trevor. The frown vanished from his face, and he answered like a\ncoherent mortal.\n\n\"Look here, Hatteras,\" he said, with a fine burst of confidence, \"you\nand I have been friends for a good many years, and I think we know each\nother about as well as two men can do.\"\n\n\"That is so,\" I answered, wondering what he was driving at; \"we have\nbeen through some strange adventures together, and should certainly know\neach other. I hope that you are not going to propose that we should\ndepart on some harum-scarum expedition like that you wanted me to join\nyou in last year, to the Pamirs, was it not? If so, I can tell you once\nand for all that my lady won't hear of it.\"\n\n\"Confound the Pamirs!\" he replied angrily. \"Is it likely that I should\nthink of going there just now? You misunderstand my meaning entirely.\nWhat I want is a sympathetic friend, who can enter into my troubles, and\nif possible help me out of them.\"\n\nFor the life of me I could not forbear from teasing him for a little\nlonger.\n\n\"My dear old fellow,\" I said, \"you know that I will do anything I\npossibly can to help you. Take my advice and get rid of the man at once.\nAs I told you in my letter to you before you left England, it is only\nmisplaced kindness to keep him on. You know very well that he has been\nunfaithful to you for some years past. Then why allow him to continue in\nhis wrong-doing? The smash will come sooner or later.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" he asked.\n\n\"Well, I suppose your trouble is connected with the agent you were\ntelling me of yesterday. The man who, it was discovered, had been\ncooking the accounts, selling your game, pocketing the proceeds, and\ngenerally feathering his own nest at your expense.\"\n\nAn ominous frown gathered upon my friend's forehead.\n\n\"Upon my word,\" he said, \"I really believe you are taking leave of your\nsenses. Do you think I am bothering myself at such a time about that\nwretched Mitchell? Let him sell every beast upon the farms, every head\nof game, and, in point of fact, let him swindle me as he likes, and I\nwouldn't give a second thought to him.\"\n\n\"I am very sorry,\" I answered penitently, rolling the leaf of my cigar.\n\"Then it was the yacht you were thinking about? You have had what I\nconsider a very good offer for her. Let her go! You are rich enough to\nbe able to build another, and the work will amuse you. You want\nemployment of some sort.\"\n\n\"I am not thinking of the yacht either,\" he growled. \"You know that as\nwell as I do.\"\n\n\"How should I know it?\" I answered. \"I am not able to tell what is in\nyour mind. I do not happen to be like Nikola.\"\n\n\"You are singularly obtuse to-day,\" he asserted, throwing what remained\nof his cigar into the Canal and taking another from his case.\n\n\"Look here,\" I said, \"you're pitching into me because I can't appreciate\nyour position. Now how am I likely to be able to do so, considering that\nyou've told me nothing about it? Before we left London you informed me\nthat the place you had purchased in Warwickshire was going to prove your\nchief worry in life. I said, 'sell it again.' Then you found that your\nagent in Yorkshire was not what he might be. I advised you to get rid of\nhim. You would not do so because of his family. Then you confessed in a\nmost lugubrious fashion that your yacht was practically becoming\nunseaworthy by reason of her age. I suggested that you should sell her\nto Deeside, who likes her, or part with her for a junk. You vowed you\nwould not do so because she was a favourite. Now you are unhappy, and I\nnaturally suppose that it must be one of those things which is causing\nyou uneasiness. You scout the idea. What, therefore, am I to believe?\nUpon my word, my friend, if I did not remember that you have always\ndeclared your abhorrence of the Sex, I should begin to think you must be\nin love.\"\n\nHe looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I pretended not to notice\nit, however, and still rolled the leaf of my cigar.\n\n\"Would it be such a very mad thing if I did fall in love?\" he asked at\nlast. \"My father did so before me, and I believe my grandfather did\nalso. You, yourself, committed the same indiscretion.\"\n\n\"And you have seen the miserable result?\"\n\n\"I have observed one of the happiest couples in the world,\" he replied.\n\"But, joking apart, Hatteras, I want to talk the matter over with you\nseriously. I don't mind telling you at once, as between friend and\nfriend, that I want to marry Miss Trevor.\"\n\nI endeavoured to look surprised, but I fear the attempt was a failure.\n\n\"May I remind you,\" I said, \"that you have known her barely a week? I\ndon't want to discourage you, but is not your affection of rather quick\ngrowth?\"\n\n\"It is, but it does not mean that I am any the less sincere. I tell you\ncandidly, Dick, I have never seen such a girl in my life. She would make\nany man happy.\"\n\n\"Very likely, but would any man make her happy?\"\n\nHis face fell, and he shifted uneasily in his chair.\n\n\"Confound you,\" he said, \"you put everything in a new light. Why should\nI not be able to make her happy? There are lots of women who would give\ntheir lives to be a Duchess!\"\n\n\"I admit that,\" I answered. \"I don't fancy, however, your rank will make\nmuch difference with Miss Trevor. When a woman is a lady, and in love,\nshe doesn't mind very much whether the object of her affections is a\nDuke or a chimney-sweep. Don't make the mistake of believing that a\nDukedom counts for everything where the heart is concerned. We outsiders\nshould have no chance at all if that were the case.\"\n\n\"But, Hatteras,\" he said, \"I didn't mean that. I'm not such a cad as to\nimagine that Miss Trevor would marry me simply because I happen to have\na handle to my name. I want to put the matter plainly before you. I have\ntold you that I love her, do you think there is any chance of her taking\na liking to me?\"\n\n\"Now that you have told me what is in your mind,\" I answered, \"I can\nsafely state my opinion. Mind you, I know nothing about the young lady's\nideas, but if I were a young woman, and an exceedingly presentable\nyoung man--you may thank me for the compliment afterwards--were to lay\nhis heart at my feet, especially when that heart is served up on\nstrawberry leaves and five-pound notes, I fancy I should be inclined to\nthink twice before I discouraged his advances. Whether Miss Trevor will\ndo so, however, is quite another matter.\"\n\n\"Then you are not able to give me any encouragement?\"\n\n\"I will wish you God-speed upon your enterprise,\" I said, \"if that is\nany satisfaction to you. I cannot do more.\"\n\nAs I said it I held out my hand, which he took and shook.\n\n\"God bless you, old man,\" he said, \"you don't know what all this means\nto me. I've suffered agonies these last two days. I believe I should go\nmad if it continued. Yesterday she was kindness itself. To-day she will\nscarcely speak to me. I believe Lady Hatteras takes my side?\"\n\nI was not to be caught napping.\n\n\"You must remember that Lady Hatteras herself is an impressionable young\nwoman,\" I answered. \"She likes you and believes in you, and because she\ndoes she thinks her friend ought to do so also. Now look here, your\nGrace----\"\n\n\"You needn't put on any side of that kind,\" he answered reproachfully.\n\n\"I believe I am talking to the Duke of Glenbarth,\" I returned.\n\n\"You are talking to your old friend, the man who went round the world\nwith you, if that's what you mean,\" he answered. \"What is it you have to\nsay?\"\n\n\"I want you to plainly understand that Miss Trevor is my guest. I want\nyou also to try to realize, however difficult it may be, that you have\nonly known her a very short time. She is a particularly nice girl, as\nyou yourself have admitted. It would be scarcely fair, therefore, if I\nwere to permit you to give her the impression that you were in love with\nher until you have really made up your mind. Think it well over. Take\nanother week, or shall we say a fortnight? A month would be better\nstill.\"\n\nHe groaned in despair.\n\n\"You might as well say a year while you are about it. What is the use of\nmy waiting even a week when I know my own mind already?\"\n\n\"Because you must give your affection time to set. Take a week. If at\nthe end of that time you are still as much in earnest as you are now,\nwell, the matter will be worth thinking about. You can then speak to the\nyoung lady or not, as you please. On the other hand, should your\nopinion have changed, then I have been your only confidant, and no harm\nhas been done. If she accepts you, I can honestly say that no one will\nbe more delighted than myself. If not, you must look elsewhere, and then\nshe must marry the man she likes better. Do you agree?\"\n\n\"As I can't help myself I suppose I must,\" he answered. \"But my position\nduring the next week is not likely to be a very cheerful one.\"\n\n\"I don't at all see why,\" I replied. \"Lots of others have been compelled\nto do their courting under harder auspices. Myself for instance. Here\nyou are staying in the same house as the object of your affections. You\nmeet her almost every hour of the day; you have innumerable\nopportunities of paying your court to her, and yet with all these\nadvantages you abuse your lot.\"\n\n\"I know I am an ungrateful beast,\" he said. \"But, by Jove, Dick, when\none is as much in love as I am, and with the most adorable woman in the\nworld, and matters don't seem to go right, one ought to be excused if\none feels inclined to quarrel with somebody.\"\n\n\"Quarrel away with all your heart,\" I answered. \"And now I am going down\nwith you to the hairdresser. After that we'll go to the piazza.\"\n\n\"I suppose I must,\" he said, rising from his chair with a fine air of\nresignation. \"Though what fun you can discover in that crowd I cannot\nfor the life of me imagine.\"\n\nI did not remind him that on the previous afternoon he had declared it\nto be the most amusing sight in Europe. That would have been an unfair\nadvantage to have taken, particularly as I had punished him enough\nalready. We accordingly procured our hats and sticks, and having secured\na gondola, set off. It was a lovely afternoon, and the Grand Canal was\ncrowded. As we passed the entrance to the Rio del Consiglio, I stole a\nglance at the Palace Revecce. No gondola was at the door, so whether\nNikola was at home or abroad I could not say. When Glenbarth had been\noperated upon we proceeded to the piazza of Saint Mark, which we reached\nsomewhat before the usual afternoon promenade. The band had not\ncommenced to play, and the idlers were few in number. Having engaged two\nchairs at one of the tables we sat down and ordered coffee. The duke was\nplainly ill at ease. He fretted and fidgeted continually. His eyes\nscarcely wandered from the steps of the lagoon, and every gondola that\ndrew up received his scrutinizing attention. When at last two ladies\ndisembarked and made their way across the stones towards Florian's\n_caf\u00e9_, where we were seated, I thought he would have made an\nexhibition of himself.\n\nLady Beltringham, it would appear, had arrived, but was so fatigued by\nher long journey that she was unable to receive visitors.\n\n\"We returned almost immediately to the hotel,\" said my wife\nreproachfully. \"We thought you would have waited for us there.\"\n\nGlenbarth looked at me as if nothing I could ever do would make up for\nthe enormity of my offence. He then described to Miss Trevor some\nwonderful photographs he had discovered that morning in a certain shop\non the other side of the piazza. She questioned him concerning them, and\nI suggested that they should go off and overhaul them. This they did,\nand when they had departed my wife produced some letters for me she had\ntaken from the rack at the hotel. I looked at the writing upon the\nenvelope of the first, but for a moment could not recall where or when I\nhad seen it before. Then I opened it and withdrew the contents.\n\n\"Why, it's from George Anstruther,\" I exclaimed when I had examined the\nsignature. \"He is in Algiers.\"\n\n\"But what is the letter about?\" my wife inquired. \"You have not heard\nfrom him for so long.\"\n\n\"I'll read it,\" I said, and began as follows--\n\n     \"MY DEAR HATTERAS,\n\n     \"Here I am in the most charming place on the whole Mediterranean,\n     and I ought to know, for I've seen and loathed all the others. My\n     villa overlooks the sea, and my yacht rides at anchor in the bay.\n     There are many nice people here, and not the least pleasant is my\n     very good friend, Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos, who is leaving to-day for\n     his first visit to Venice, _vi\u00e2_ Nice, and I understand from him\n     that he is to stay at your hotel. He is a delightful creature; has\n     seen much of the world, and if you will admit him to the circle of\n     your acquaintance, I don't think you will regret it. I need not\n     bore either myself or you by repeating the hackneyed phrase to the\n     effect that any civility you show him will be considered a kindness\n     to myself, etc., etc. Remember me most kindly to Lady Hatteras, and\n\n     \"Believe me to be,\n\n     \"Ever sincerely yours,\n\n     \"GEORGE ANSTRUTHER.\"\n\n\nMy wife uttered a little cry of vexation.\n\n\"Pleasant though he may prove, I cannot help saying that I am sorry Don\nJos\u00e8 Martinos is coming,\" she said. \"Our little party of four was so\nhappily arranged, and who knows but that a fifth may upset its peace\naltogether?\"\n\n\"But he is Anstruther's friend,\" I said in expostulation. \"One must be\ncivil to one's friends' friends.\"\n\n\"I do not at all see why,\" she answered. \"Because we like Mr. Anstruther\nit does not follow that we shall like his friend.\"\n\nAt that moment the young couple were to be observed crossing the piazza\nin our direction. Glenbarth carried a parcel under his arm.\n\n\"I don't think there is much doubt about that affair,\" said my wife, as\nshe regarded them approvingly.\n\n\"Don't be too sure,\" I answered. \"There is many a slip 'twixt the cup\nand the lip, and there is another old saying to the effect that those\nwho live longest see most.\"\n\nOne is sometimes oracular even in jest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nOn the following day, having sent my servant to inquire, I was informed\nthat the Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos had arrived at the hotel, and had engaged\nrooms on the floor above our own. Accordingly, after luncheon I ascended\nto the rooms in question, and asked whether he would receive me. I had\nscarcely waited more than a minute before he made his appearance. He\npaused on the threshold to give an order to his man, and while he did\nso, I was permitted an opportunity of taking stock of him. He was a\ntall, muscular man of between thirty-five and forty years of age. His\nappearance did not betray so much of his Spanish origin as I had\nexpected. Indeed, it would have been difficult to have given him a\nnationality. I noticed that his beard, which he wore closely clipped,\nwas not innocent of the touch of Time. His face was a powerful one, but\nat first glance I was not altogether prepossessed in its favour. His\nhands and feet were small, the former particularly so for a man of his\nsize and build. Moreover, he was faultlessly dressed, and carried\nhimself with the air of a man of the world and of good breeding.\n\n\"Sir Richard Hatteras,\" he said, as he crossed the room to greet me,\n\"this is kind of you indeed. My friend, Anstruther, informed me that you\nwere in Venice, and was good enough to take upon himself the\nresponsibility of introducing me to you.\"\n\nHis voice was strong and musical, and he pronounced every word (he spoke\nexcellent English) as if it had a value of its own. I inquired after\nAnstruther's health, which for some time past had been precarious, and\nit was with satisfaction that I learnt of the improvement that had taken\nplace in it.\n\n\"You would scarcely know him now,\" said Martinos. \"He looks quite strong\nagain. But permit me to offer you a cigar. We Spaniards say that we\ncannot talk unless we smoke; you English that you cannot smoke if you\ntalk.\"\n\nAs he said this he handed me a box of cigars.\n\n\"I fancy you will like them,\" he said. \"The tobacco was grown upon my\nown estate in Cuba; for that reason I can guarantee their purity.\"\n\nThe weed I selected was excellent, in fact one of the best cigars\nI had ever smoked. While he was lighting his I stole another\nglance at him. Decidedly he was a handsome man, but--here was the\nstumbling-block--there was something, I cannot say what, about him that\nI did not altogether like. It was not a crafty face, far from it. The\neyes were well placed; the mouth from what one could see of it under his\nblack moustache was well moulded, with white, even teeth; the nose was\nslightly aquiline; and the chin large, firm, and square. Nevertheless,\nthere was something about it that did not suit my fancy. Once I told\nmyself it was a cruel face, yet the singularly winning smile that\nfollowed a remark of mine a moment later went some way towards\ndisabusing my mind upon that point.\n\n\"Lady Hatteras, I understood from Senor Anstruther, is with you,\" he\nsaid, after we had talked of other things.\n\n\"She is down-stairs at this moment,\" I answered. \"We are a party of\nfour--Miss Trevor (the daughter of the Dean of Bedminster), the Duke of\nGlenbarth, my wife, and myself. I hope you will permit me the pleasure\nof introducing you to them at an early date.\"\n\n\"I shall be most happy,\" he replied. \"I am particularly fond of Venice,\nbut, when all is said and done, one must have companions to enjoy it\nthoroughly.\"\n\nI had been given to understand that this was his first visit to the\nQueen of the Adriatic, but I did not comment upon the fact.\n\n\"One is inclined to believe that Adam would have enjoyed the Garden of\nEden if it had not been for Eve,\" I remarked, with a smile.\n\n\"Poor Adam,\" he answered, \"I have always thought him a much-abused man.\nUnlike ourselves, he was without experience; he had a companion forced\nupon him who worked his ruin, and his loss on the transaction was not\nonly physical but financial.\"\n\n\"How long do you contemplate remaining in Venice?\" I asked, after the\nlittle pause that followed his last speech.\n\n\"I scarcely know,\" he answered. \"My movements are most erratic. I am\nthat most unfortunate of God's creatures, a wanderer on the face of the\nearth. I have no relations and few friends. I roam about as the fancy\ntakes me, remain in a place as long as it pleases me, and then, like the\nArab in the poem, silently take up my tent and move on as soon as the\ncity I happen to be in at the time has lost its charm. I possess a\n_pied-\u00e0-terre_ of four rooms in Cairo, I have lived amongst the Khabyles\nin the desert, and with the Armenians in the mountains. To sum it up, I\nhave the instincts of the Wandering Jew, and fortunately the means of\ngratifying them.\"\n\nWhat it was I cannot say, but there was something in his speech that\ngrated upon my feelings. Whether what he had said were true or not, I am\nnot in a position to affirm, but the impression I received was that he\nwas talking for effect, and every one will know what that means.\n\n\"As you are such a globe-trotter,\" I said, \"I suppose there is scarcely\na portion of the world that you have not visited?\"\n\n\"I have perhaps had more than my share of travelling,\" he answered. \"I\nthink I can safely say that, with the exception of South America, I have\nvisited every portion of the known globe.\"\n\n\"You have never been in South America then?\" I asked in some surprise.\n\n\"Never,\" he replied, and immediately changed the conversation by\ninquiring whether I had met certain of Anstruther's friends who were\nsupposed to be on their way to Venice. A few minutes later, after having\ngiven him an invitation to dinner on the next evening, I bade him\ngood-bye and left him. On my return my wife was eager to question me\nconcerning him, but as things stood I did not feel capable of giving her\na detailed reply. There are some acquaintances who, one feels, will\nprove friends from the outset; there are others who fill one from the\nfirst with a vague distrust. Not that I altogether distrusted Martinos,\nI had not seen enough of him to do that; at the same time, however, I\ncould not conscientiously say, as I have already observed, that I was\naltogether prepossessed in his favour.\n\nThe following morning he accepted my invitation for that evening, and\npunctually at half-past seven he made his appearance in the\ndrawing-room. I introduced him to my wife, and also to Miss Trevor when\nshe joined us.\n\n\"My husband tells me that you are a great traveller,\" said Phyllis,\nafter they had seated themselves. \"He says you know the world as we know\nLondon.\"\n\n\"Your husband does me too much honour,\" he answered modestly. \"From what\nI have heard of you, you must know the world almost as well as I do. My\nfriend, Anstruther, has told me a romantic story about you. Something\nconnected with a South Sea island, and a mysterious personage named----\"\n\nHe paused for a moment as if to remember the name.\n\n\"Nikola,\" I said; \"you do not happen to have met him, I suppose?\"\n\n\"To my knowledge, never,\" he answered. \"It is a strange surname.\"\n\nAt that moment Glenbarth entered the room, and I introduced the two men\nto each other. For some reason of my own I was quite prepared to find\nthat the Duke would not take a fancy to our new acquaintance, nor was I\ndestined to be disappointed. Before dinner was half over I could see\nthat he had a great difficulty in being civil to the stranger. Had\nMartinos not been our guest, I doubt very much whether he would have\nbeen able to control himself. And yet the Spaniard laid himself out in\nevery way to please. His attentions were paid chiefly to my wife, I do\nnot believe that he addressed Miss Trevor more than a dozen times\nthroughout the meal. Notwithstanding this fact, Glenbarth regarded him\nwith evident animosity, insomuch that Miss Trevor more than once looked\nat him with an expression of positive alarm upon her face. She had not\nseen him in this humour before, and though she may have had her\nsuspicions as to the reason of it, it was plain that she was far from\napproving of his line of action. When the ladies withdrew, and the wine\nwas being circulated, I endeavoured to draw the two men into greater\nharmony with each other. The attempt, however, was unsuccessful. More\nthan once Glenbarth said things which bordered on rudeness, until I\nbegan to feel angry with him. On one occasion, happening to look up\nsuddenly from the cigar which I was cutting, I detected a look upon the\nSpaniard's face that startled me. It however showed me one thing, and\nthat was the fact that despite his genial behaviour, Martinos had not\nbeen blind to the young man's treatment of himself, and also that,\nshould a time ever arrive when he would have a chance of doing Glenbarth\na mischief, he would not be forgetful of the debt he owed him. Matters\nwere not much better when we adjourned to the drawing-room. Glenbarth,\naccording to custom, seated himself beside Miss Trevor, and studiously\nignored the Spaniard. I was more sorry for this than I could say. It was\nthe behaviour of a school-boy, not that of a man of the world; and the\nworst part of it was, that it was doing Glenbarth no sort of good in the\neyes of the person with whom he wished to stand best. The truth was the\npoor lad was far from being himself. He was suffering from an acute\nattack of a disease which has not yet received the proper attention of\nScience--the disease of first love. So overwhelmed was he by his\npassion, that he could not bear any stranger even to look upon the\nobject of his adoration. Later in the evening matters reached their\nclimax, when my wife asked the Don to sing.\n\n\"I feel sure that you _do_ sing,\" she said in that artless way which\nwomen often affect.\n\n\"I try sometimes to amuse my friends,\" said he, and begging us to excuse\nhim he retired to his own rooms, to presently return with a large\nSpanish guitar. Having taken a seat near the window, and when he had\nswept his fingers over the strings in a few preliminary chords, he\ncommenced to sing. He was the possessor of a rich baritone, which he\nused with excellent effect. My wife was delighted, and asked him to sing\nagain. Miss Trevor also expressed her delight, and seconded my wife's\nproposal. This was altogether too much for Glenbarth. Muttering\nsomething about a severe headache he hurriedly left the room. My wife\nand I exchanged glances, but Martinos and Miss Trevor did not appear to\nnotice his absence. This time he sang a Spanish fishing-song, but I did\nnot pay much attention to it. A little later the Don, having thanked us\nfor our hospitality, took his departure, and when Miss Trevor had said\ngood-night to us, and had retired to her own room, my wife and I were\nleft alone together.\n\n\"What could have made the Duke behave like that?\" she said.\n\n\"He is madly in love, my dear, and also madly jealous,\" I answered. \"I\nhope and trust, however, that he is not going to repeat this\nperformance.\"\n\n\"If he does he will imperil any chance he has of winning Gertrude's\nlove,\" she replied. \"He will also place us in a decidedly awkward\nposition.\"\n\n\"Let this be a lesson to you, my dear, never to play with fire again,\" I\nreplied. \"You bring two inflammable people together, and wonder that\nthere should be an explosion.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm really very angry with him. I don't know what the Don Jos\u00e8\nmust have thought.\"\n\n\"Probably he thought nothing about it,\" I replied. \"You mustn't be too\nangry with Glenbarth, however. Leave him to me, and I'll talk to him.\nTo-morrow, I promise you, he'll be sorry for himself. If I know anything\nof women, Gertrude will make him wish he had acted differently.\"\n\n\"I don't think she will bother about the matter. She has too much\nsense.\"\n\n\"Very well; we shall see.\"\n\nI then bade her go to bed, promising myself to sit up for Glenbarth,\nwho, I discovered, had gone out. It was nearly midnight when he\nreturned. I noticed that every trace of ill-humour had vanished from his\nface, and that he was quite himself once more.\n\n\"My dear Dick,\" he said, \"I don't know how to apologize for my\nridiculous and rude behaviour of to-night. I am more ashamed of myself\nthan I can say. I behaved like a child.\"\n\nBecause he happened to be in a repentant mood I was not going to let him\noff the chastising I felt that I ought to give him.\n\n\"A nice sort of young fellow you are, upon my word,\" I said, putting\ndown the paper I had been reading as I spoke. \"I've a very good mind to\ntell you exactly what I think of you.\"\n\n\"It would be only wasting your time,\" he returned. \"For you can't think\nhalf as badly of me as I do of myself. I can't imagine what made me do\nit.\"\n\n\"Can't you?\" I said. \"Well, I can, and as you are pretty certain to\ncatch it in one particular quarter to-morrow, I fancy, on mature\nreflection, that I can afford to forgive you. The man had done you no\nharm; he not only did not interfere with you, but he was not trespassing\nupon your----\"\n\n\"Don't speak of him,\" said the young fellow, flaring up at once. \"If I\nthink of him I shall get angry again. I can't bear the look of the\nbeggar.\"\n\n\"Steady, my young friend, steady,\" I returned. \"You mustn't call other\npeople's friends by that name.\"\n\n\"He is not your friend,\" said Glenbarth excitedly. \"You've never seen\nhim until to-night, and you've known me ever since I was about so\nhigh.\"\n\n\"I began to imagine you only 'so high' this evening,\" I said. \"It's a\ngood thing for you that the wife has gone to bed, or I fancy you would\nhave heard something that would have made your ears tingle. After the\nfoolish manner of women, she has come to the conclusion that she would\nlike you to marry Miss Trevor.\"\n\n\"God bless her!\" he said fervently. \"I knew that she was my friend.\"\n\n\"In that case you would probably have enjoyed a friend's privilege, had\nyou been here to-night before she retired, and have received a\ndressing-down that is usually reserved for her husband. I live in hopes\nthat you may get it to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Bosh!\" he answered. \"And now, if you have forgiven me, I think I will\ngo to bed. I've had enough of myself for one day.\"\n\nWith that we shook hands, and bade each other good-night. At his bedroom\ndoor he stopped me.\n\n\"Do you think she will forgive me?\" he asked, as humbly as would a boy\nwho had been caught stealing sugar-plums.\n\n\"My wife,\" I answered. \"Yes, I think it is very probable that she will.\"\n\n\"No, no; how dense you are; I mean----\" Here he nodded his head in the\ndirection of the room occupied by Miss Trevor.\n\n\"You'll have to find out that for yourself,\" I replied, and then went\non to my dressing-room.\n\n\"That will give your Grace something to think about all night,\" I said,\nas I took off my coat.\n\nAs it turned out, I was destined to be fairly accurate in the prophecy I\nhad made concerning Miss Trevor's treatment of Glenbarth on the morrow.\nAt breakfast she did not altogether ignore him, but when I say that she\ndevoted the larger share of her attention to myself, those of my readers\nwho are married, and have probably had the same experience, will\nunderstand. My wife, on the other hand, was affability itself, and from\nher behaviour toward him appeared to be quite willing to forgive and\nforget the unfortunate episode of the previous evening. I chuckled to\nmyself, but said nothing. He was not at the end of his punishment yet.\n\nAll that day we saw nothing of Martinos. Whether he remained at home or\nwent abroad we could not say. On returning to the hotel to lunch,\nhowever, we discovered a basket of roses in the drawing-room, with the\nDon's card tied to the handle.\n\n\"Oh, what lovely flowers!\" cried my wife in an ecstasy. \"Look, Gertrude,\nare they not beautiful?\"\n\nMiss Trevor cordially admired them; and in order, I suppose, that\nGlenbarth's punishment might be the more complete, begged for a bud to\nwear herself. One was given her, while I watched Glenbarth's face over\nthe top of the letter I was reading at the moment. My heart was touched\nby his miserable face, and when he and my wife had left the room to\nprepare for lunch, I determined to put in a good word for him.\n\n\"Miss Gertrude,\" I said, \"as an old friend I have a favour to ask of\nyou. Do you think you can grant it?\"\n\n\"You must first tell me what it is,\" she said, with a smile upon her\nface. \"I know from experience that you are not to be trusted.\"\n\n\"A nice sort of character for a family man,\" I protested. \"Lady Hatteras\nhas been telling tales, I can see.\"\n\n\"Your wife would never tell a tale of any one, particularly of you,\" she\nasserted. \"But what would you ask of me?\"\n\n\"Only a plea for human happiness,\" I said with mock gravity. \"I have\nseen absolute despair written indelibly on a certain human countenance\nto-day, and the sight has troubled me ever since. Are you aware that\nthere is a poor young man in this hotel, whose face opens like a daisy\nto the sun when you smile upon him, and closes in the darkness of your\nneglect?\"\n\n\"How absurd you are!\"\n\n\"Why am I absurd?\"\n\n\"Because you talk in this fashion.\"\n\n\"Will you smile upon him again? He has suffered a great deal these last\ntwo days.\"\n\n\"Really you are too ridiculous. I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"That is not the truth, Miss Trevor, and you know it.\"\n\n\"But what have I done wrong?\"\n\n\"That business with the rose just now, for instance, was cruel, to say\nthe least of it.\"\n\n\"Really, Sir Richard, you _do_ say such foolish things. If I want a rose\nto wear surely I may have one. But I must not stay talking to you, it's\nfive-and-twenty minutes past one. I must go and get ready for lunch.\"\n\nI held open the door for her, and as she passed I said--\n\n\"You will do what I ask? Just to please me?\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean, but I will think it over,\" she replied, and\nthen departed to her room.\n\nShe must have done as she promised, for the rose was absent from her\ndress when she sat down to lunch. Glenbarth noticed it, and from that\nmoment his drooping spirits revived.\n\nThat afternoon my wife and I went down to meet the P. and O. mail-boat,\nin order to discover some friends who were on their way to Egypt. As\nneither the Duke of Glenbarth nor Miss Trevor were acquainted with them\nthey were excused from attendance. When we joined them it was plain that\nall traces of trouble had been removed, and in consequence the Duke was\nbasking in the seventh heaven of happiness. Had I asked the young man at\nthat moment for half his estates I believe he would willingly have given\nthem to me. He would have done so even more willingly had he known that\nit was to my agency that he owed the wondrous change in his affairs. For\nsome reason of her own Miss Trevor was also in the best of spirits. My\nwife was happy because her turtle-doves were happy, and I beamed upon\nthem all with the complacency of the God out of the machine.\n\nAll this time I had been wondering as to the reason why we had not heard\nor seen anything of Nikola. Why I should have expected to do so I cannot\nsay, but after the events of three evenings ago, I had entertained a\nvague hope that I should have seen him, or that he would have\ncommunicated with me in some form or another. We were to see him,\nhowever, before very long.\n\nWe had arranged to visit the Academy on our return from the mail-boat,\nwhere my wife was anxious to renew her acquaintance with the Titans.\nFor my own part I am prepared to admit that my knowledge of the pictures\nis not sufficiently cultivated to enable me to derive any pleasure from\nthe constant perusal of these Masters. Phyllis and Miss Trevor, however,\nmanaged to discover a source of considerable satisfaction in them. When\nwe left the gallery, we made our way, according to custom, in the\ndirection of the piazza of Saint Mark. We had not advanced very far upon\nour walk, however, before I chanced to turn round, to discover, striding\nafter us, no less a person than our new acquaintance, Don Jos\u00e8 Martinos.\nHe bowed to the ladies, shook hands with myself, and nodded to the Duke.\n\n\"If you are proceeding in the direction of the piazza, will you permit\nme to accompany you?\" he asked, and that permission having been given by\nmy wife, we continued our walk. What Glenbarth thought of it I do not\nknow, but as he had Miss Trevor to himself, I do not see that he had\nanything to complain of. On reaching Florian's _caf\u00e9_, we took our\ncustomary seats, the Don placing himself next to my wife, and laying\nhimself out to be agreeable. Once he addressed Glenbarth, and I was\nastonished to see the conciliatory manner that the other adopted towards\nhim.\n\n\"Now that he sees that he has nothing to fear, perhaps he will not be\nso jealous,\" I said to myself, and indeed it appeared as if this were\nlikely to be the case. I was more relieved by this discovery than I\ncould say. As we should probably be some time in Venice, and the Don had\narrived with the same intention, and we were to be located in the same\nhotel, it was of the utmost importance to our mutual comforts that there\nshould be no friction between the two men. But enough of this subject\nfor the present. There are other matters to be considered. In the first\nplace I must put on record a curious circumstance. In the light of after\nevents it bears a strange significance, and he would be a courageous man\nwho would dare to say that he could explain it.\n\nIt must be borne in mind, in order that the importance of what I am now\nabout to describe may be plainly understood, that Miss Trevor was seated\nfacing me, that is to say, with her back towards the Cathedral of St.\nMark. She was in the best of spirits, and at the moment was engaged in\nan animated discussion with my wife on the effect of Ancient Art upon\nher _b\u00eate noir_, the Cockney tourist. Suddenly, without any apparent\nreason, her face grew deathly pale, and she came to a sudden stop in the\nmiddle of a sentence. Fortunately no one noticed it but my wife and\nmyself, and as she was herself again in a moment, we neither of us\ncalled attention to it. A moment later I glanced across the square, and\nto my amazement saw no less a person than Doctor Nikola approaching us.\nWas it possible that Miss Trevor, in some extraordinary manner, had\nbecome aware of his proximity to her, or was it only one of those\nstrange coincidences that are so difficult to explain away? I did not\nknow what to think then, nor, as a matter of fact, do I now.\n\nReaching our party, Nikola raised his hat to the ladies.\n\n\"I fear, Lady Hatteras,\" he said, \"that I must have incurred your\ndispleasure for keeping your husband so long away from you the other\nnight. If so, I hope you will forgive me.\"\n\n\"I will endeavour to do so,\" said my wife with a smile, \"but you must be\nvery careful how you offend again.\"\n\nThen turning to Miss Trevor, he said, \"I hope you will grant me your\ngracious intercession, Miss Trevor?\"\n\n\"I will do my best for you,\" she answered, with a seriousness that made\nmy wife and I look at her.\n\nThen Nikola shook hands with Glenbarth, and glanced at the Don.\n\n\"Permit me to introduce you to Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos, Doctor Nikola,\" I\nsaid; \"he has lately arrived from Algiers.\"\n\nThe two men bowed gravely to each other.\n\n\"You are fond of travelling, I presume, Senor,\" said Nikola, fixing his\neyes upon the Don.\n\n\"I have seen a considerable portion of the world,\" the other answered.\n\"I have seen the Midnight Sun at Cape North and the drift ice off the\nHorn.\"\n\n\"And have not found it all barren,\" Nikola remarked gravely.\n\nFrom that moment the conversation flowed smoothly. Miss Trevor had quite\nrecovered herself, and I could see that the Don was intensely interested\nin Nikola. And indeed on this particular occasion the latter exerted\nhimself to the utmost to please. I will admit, however, that something\nnot unlike a shudder passed over me as I contrasted his present\naffability with his manner when he had threatened the unfortunate Police\nAgent a few nights before. Now he was a suave, pleasant-mannered man of\nthe world, then he figured almost as an avenging angel; now he discussed\nmodern literature, then I had heard him threaten a human being with the\ndirest penalties that it was possible for man to inflict. When it was\ntime for us to return to our hotel, Nikola rose and bade us good-bye.\n\n\"I hope you will permit me the pleasure of seeing more of you while you\nare in Venice,\" said Nikola, addressing the Don. \"If you are an admirer\nof the old palaces of this wonderful city, and our friends will\naccompany you, I shall be delighted to show you my own poor abode. It\npossesses points of interest that many of the other palaces lack, and,\nthough it has fallen somewhat to decay, I fancy you will admit that the\nfact does not altogether detract from its interest.\"\n\n\"I shall hasten to avail myself of the opportunity you are kind enough\nto offer me,\" the other replied, after which they bowed ceremoniously to\neach other and parted.\n\n\"Your friend is an extraordinary man,\" said the Don as we walked towards\nthe steps. \"I have never met a more interesting person. Does he\naltogether reside in Venice?\"\n\n\"Oh dear, no,\" I replied. \"If one were asked to say where Nikola had his\nabode it would be almost necessary to say 'in the world.' I myself met\nhim first in London, afterwards in Egypt, then in Australia, and later\non in the South Sea Islands. Now we are together again in Venice. I have\ngood reason for knowing that he is also familiar with China and Thibet.\nHe himself confesses to a knowledge of Africa and Central America.\"\n\n\"To Central America?\" said the Don quickly. \"Pray what part of Central\nAmerica does he know?\"\n\n\"That I am unable to say,\" I replied. \"I have never questioned him upon\nthe subject.\"\n\nFrom that moment the Don almost exclusively addressed himself to my\nwife, and did not refer to Nikola again. We parted in the hall of the\nhotel. Next morning we saw him for a few moments at the post-office, but\nat no other time during the day. On the following day he accompanied us\non an excursion to Chioggia, and dined with us afterwards. Though I knew\nthat Glenbarth still disliked him, his hostility was so veiled as to be\nscarcely noticeable. Towards the end of the evening a note was brought\nto me. One glance at the handwriting upon the envelope was sufficient to\nshow me that it was from Nikola. It ran as follows--\n\n     \"MY DEAR HATTERAS,\n\n     \"Remembering your friend Don Martinos' desire to see my poor\n     palace, I have written to ask him if he will dine with me to-morrow\n     evening at eight o'clock. If I can persuade you and the Duke of\n     Glenbarth to give me the pleasure of your society, I need scarcely\n     say that you will be adding to my delight.\n\n     \"Sincerely yours,\n\n     \"NIKOLA.\"\n\n\n\"You have not of course received your letter yet,\" I said, addressing\nthe Don. \"What do you say to the invitation?\"\n\n\"I shall accept it only too willingly,\" he answered without delay.\n\"Provided, of course, you will go too.\"\n\n\"Have you any objection to raise, Duke?\" I asked, addressing Glenbarth.\n\nI could see that he was not very anxious to go, but under the\ncircumstances he could not very well refuse.\n\n\"I shall be very happy,\" he answered.\n\nAnd for once in his life he deliberately said what he knew to be\nuntrue.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\n\"You surely are not going to dine with Doctor Nikola in that strange\nhouse?\" said my wife, when we were alone together that night. \"After\nwhat the Duke has told us, I wonder that you can be so foolish.\"\n\n\"My dear girl,\" I answered, \"I don't see the force of your argument. I\nshan't be the first who has eaten a meal in the house in question, and I\ndon't suppose I shall be the last. What do you think will happen to me?\nDo you think that we have returned to the times of the Borgias, and that\nNikola will poison us? No, I am looking forward to a very enjoyable and\ninstructive evening.\"\n\n\"While we are sitting at home, wondering if the table is disappearing\nbodily into the vaults and taking you with it, or whether Nikola is\ncharging the side-dishes with some of his abominable chemistry, by which\nyou will be put to sleep for three months, or otherwise experimenting\nupon you in the interests of what he calls Science. I don't think it is\nat all kind of you to go.\"\n\n\"Dear girl,\" I answered, \"are you not a little unreasonable? Knowing\nthat de Martinos has but lately arrived in Venice, also that he is a\nfriend of ours--for did he not meet him when in our company?--it is only\nnatural that Nikola should desire to show him some courtesy. In spite of\nits decay, the Palace Revecce is an exceedingly beautiful building, and\nwhen he heard that Martinos would like to visit it, he invited him to\ndinner. What could be more natural? This is the nineteenth century!\"\n\n\"I am sure I don't mind what century it is,\" she replied. \"Still I\nadhere to what I said just now. I am sorry you are going.\"\n\n\"In that case I am sorry also,\" I answered, \"but as the matter stands I\nfail to see how I can get out of it. I could not let the Duke and\nMartinos go alone, so what can I do?\"\n\n\"I suppose you will have to go,\" she replied ruefully. \"I have a\npresentiment, however, that trouble will result from it.\"\n\nWith that the subject was dropped, and it was not until the following\nmorning, when I was smoking with Glenbarth after breakfast, that it\ncropped up again.\n\n\"Look here, Dick,\" said my companion then. \"What about this dinner at\nNikola's house to-night? You seemed to be very keen on going last\nnight; are you of the same mind this morning?\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I answered. \"My wife does not like the notion, but I am\nlooking forward to seeing Nikola play the host. The last time I dined\nwith him, you must remember, was in Port Said, and then the banquet\ncould scarcely be described as a pleasant one. What is more, I am\nanxious to see what effect Nikola and his house will produce upon our\nfriend the Don.\"\n\n\"I wish he'd get rid of him altogether,\" my companion replied. \"I\ndislike the fellow more and more every time I see him.\"\n\n\"Why should you? He does you no harm!\"\n\n\"It's not that,\" said Glenbarth. \"My dislike to him is instinctive; just\nas one shudders when one looks into the face of a snake, or as one is\nrepelled by a toad or a rat. In spite of his present apparent\nrespectability, I should not be at all surprised to hear that at some\nperiod of his career he had committed murders innumerable.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, nonsense,\" I replied, \"you must not imagine such things as\nthat. You were jealous when you first saw him, because you thought he\nwas going to come between you and Miss Trevor. You have never been able\nto overcome the feeling, and this continued dislike is the result. You\nmust fight against it. Doubtless, when you have seen more of him, you\nwill like him better.\"\n\n\"I shall never like him better than I do now,\" he answered, with\nconviction. \"As they say in the plays, 'my gorge rises at him!' If you\nsaw him in the light I do, you would not let Lady Hatteras----\"\n\n\"My dear fellow,\" I began, rising from my chair and interrupting him,\n\"this is theatrical and very ridiculous, and I assume the right of an\nold friend to tell you so. If you prefer not to go to-night, I'll make\nsome excuse for you, but don't, for goodness' sake, go and make things\nunpleasant for us all while you're there.\"\n\n\"I have no desire to do so,\" he replied stiffly. \"What is more, I am not\ngoing to let you go alone. Write your letter and accept for us both.\nBother Nikola and Martinos as well, I wish they were both on the other\nside of the world.\"\n\nI thereupon wrote a note to Nikola accepting, on Glenbarth's behalf and\nmy own, his invitation to dinner for that evening. Then I dismissed the\nmatter from my mind for the time being. An hour or so later my wife came\nto me with a serious face.\n\n\"I am afraid, Dick, that there is something the matter with Gertrude,\"\nshe said. \"She has gone to her room to lie down, complaining of a very\nbad headache and a numbness in all her limbs. I have done what I can for\nher, but if she does not get better by lunch-time, I think I shall send\nfor a doctor.\"\n\nAs, by lunch-time, she was no better, the services of an English doctor\nwere called in. His report to my wife was certainly a puzzling one. He\ndeclared he could discover nothing the matter with the girl, nor\nanything to account for the mysterious symptoms.\n\n\"Is she usually of an excitable disposition?\" he inquired, when we\ndiscussed the matter together in the drawing-room.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" I replied. \"I should say she is what might be called\na very evenly-dispositioned woman.\"\n\nHe asked one or two other questions and then took leave of us, promising\nto call again next day.\n\n\"I cannot understand it at all,\" said my wife when he had gone;\n\"Gertrude seemed so well last night. Now she lies upon her bed and\ncomplains of this continued pain in her head and the numbness in all her\nlimbs. Her hands and feet are as cold as ice, and her face is as white\nas a sheet of note-paper.\"\n\nDuring the afternoon Miss Trevor determined to get up, only to be\ncompelled to return to bed again. Her headache had left her, but the\nstrange numbness still remained. She seemed incapable, so my wife\ninformed me, of using her limbs. The effect upon the Duke may be better\nimagined than described. His face was the picture of desolation, and his\nanxiety was all the greater inasmuch as he was precluded from giving\nvent to it in speech. I am afraid that, at this period of his life, the\nyoung gentleman's temper was by no means as placid as we were accustomed\nto consider it. He was given to flaring up without the slightest\nwarning, and to looking upon himself and his own little world in a light\nthat was very far removed from cheerful. Realizing that we could do no\ngood at home, I took him out in the afternoon, and was given to\nunderstand that I was quite without heart, because, when we had been an\nhour abroad, I refused to return to the hotel.\n\n\"I wonder if there is anything that Miss Trevor would like,\" he said, as\nwe crossed the piazza of Saint Mark. \"It could be sent up to her, you\nknow, in your name.\"\n\n\"You might send her some flowers,\" I answered. \"You could then send them\nfrom yourself.\"\n\n\"By Jove, that's the very thing. You do have some good ideas sometimes.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" I said quietly. \"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is\npraise indeed.\"\n\n\"Bother your silly quotations!\" he retorted. \"Let's get back to that\nflower-shop.\"\n\nWe did so, and thereupon that reckless youth spent upon flowers what\nwould have kept me in cigars for a month. Having paid for them and given\norders that they should be sent to the Hotel Galaghetti at once, we left\nthe shop. When we stood outside, I had to answer all sorts of questions\nas to whether I thought she would like them, whether it would not have\nbeen better to have chosen more of one sort than another, and whether\nthe scent would not be too strong for a sick-room. After that he felt\ndoubtful whether the shopkeeper would send them in time, and felt half\ninclined to return in order to impress this fact upon the man. Let it be\ncounted to me for righteousness that I bore with him patiently,\nremembering my own feeling at a similar stage in my career. When we\nreached the hotel on our return, we discovered that the patient was\nsomewhat better. She had had a short sleep, and it had refreshed her. My\nwife was going to sit with her during the evening, and knowing this, I\nfelt that we might go out with clear consciences.\n\nAt a quarter to seven we retired to our rooms to dress, and at a quarter\npast the hour were ready to start. When we reached the hall, we found\nthe Don awaiting us there. He was dressed with the greatest care, and\npresented a not unhandsome figure. He shook hands cordially with me and\nbowed to Glenbarth, who had made no sign of offering him his hand.\nPrevious to setting out, I had extorted from that young man his promise\nthat he would behave with courtesy towards the other during the evening.\n\n\"You can't expect me to treat the fellow as a friend,\" he had said in\nreply, \"but I will give you my word that I'll be civil to him--if that's\nwhat you want.\"\n\nAnd with this assurance I was perforce compelled to be content.\n\nHaving taken our places in the gondola which was waiting for us, we set\noff.\n\n\"I had the pleasure of seeing Doctor Nikola this morning,\" said\nMartinos, as we turned into the Rio del Consiglio. \"He did me the honour\nof calling upon me.\"\n\nI gave a start of surprise on hearing this.\n\n\"Indeed,\" I replied. \"And at what hour was that?\"\n\n\"Exactly at eleven o'clock,\" the Don answered. \"I remember the time\nbecause I was in the act of going out, and we encountered each other in\nthe hall.\"\n\nNow it is a singular thing, a coincidence if you like, but it was almost\non the stroke of eleven that Miss Trevor had been seized with her\nmysterious illness. At a quarter past the hour she felt so poorly as to\nbe compelled to retire to her room. Of course there could be no\nconnection between the two affairs, but it was certainly a coincidence\nof a nature calculated to afford me ample food for reflection. A few\nmoments later the gondola drew up at the steps of the Palace Revecce.\nAlmost at the same instant the door opened and we entered the house. The\ncourtyard had been lighted in preparation for our coming, and, following\nthe man who had admitted us, we ascended the stone staircase to the\ncorridor above. Though not so dismal as when I had last seen it, lighted\nonly by Nikola's lantern, it was still sufficiently awesome to create a\ndecided impression upon the Don.\n\n\"You were certainly not wrong when you described it as a lonely\nbuilding,\" he said, as we passed along the corridor to Nikola's room.\n\nAs he said this the door opened, and Nikola stood before us. He shook\nhands with the Duke first, afterwards with the Don, and then with\nmyself.\n\n\"Let me offer you a hearty welcome,\" he began. \"Pray enter.\"\n\nWe followed him into the room I have already described, and the door was\nclosed behind us. It was in this apartment that I had expected we should\ndine, but I discovered that this was not to be the case. The tables\nwere still littered with papers, books, and scientific apparatus, just\nas when I had last seen it. Glenbarth seated himself in a chair by the\nwindow, but I noticed that his eyes wandered continually to the oriental\nrug upon the floor by the fireplace. He was doubtless thinking of the\nvaults below, and, as I could easily imagine, wishing himself anywhere\nelse than where he was. The black cat, Apollyon, which was curled up in\nan arm-chair, regarded us for a few seconds with attentive eyes, as if\nto make sure of our identities, and then returned to his slumbers. The\nwindows were open, I remember, and the moon was just rising above the\nhouse-tops opposite. I had just gone to the casement, and was looking\ndown upon the still waters below, when the tapestry of the wall on the\nright hand was drawn aside by the man who had admitted us to the house,\nwho informed Nikola in Italian that dinner was upon the table.\n\n\"In that case let us go in to it,\" said our host. \"Perhaps your Grace\nwill be kind enough to lead the way.\"\n\nGlenbarth did as he was requested, and we followed him, to find\nourselves in a large, handsome apartment, which had once been richly\nfrescoed, but was now, like the rest of the palace, sadly fallen to\ndecay. In the centre of the room was a small oval table, well\nilluminated by a silver lamp, which diffused a soft light upon the\nboard, the remainder of the room being in heavy shadow. The decorations,\nthe napery, and the glass and silver, were, as I could see at one\nglance, unique. Three men-servants awaited our coming, though where they\nhailed from and how Nikola had induced them to enter the palace, I could\nnot understand. Nikola, as our host, occupied one end of the table;\nGlenbarth, being the principal guest of the evening, was given the chair\non his left; the Don took that on the right, while I faced him at the\nfurther end. How, or by whom, the dinner was cooked was another mystery.\nNikola had told us on the occasion of our first visit, that he possessed\nno servants, and that such cooking as he required was done for him by an\nold man who came in once every day. Yet the dinner he gave us on this\nparticular occasion was worthy of the finest _chef_ in Europe. It was\nperfect in every particular. Though Nikola scarcely touched anything, he\ndid the honours of his table royally, and with a grace that was quite in\nkeeping with the situation. Had my wife and Miss Trevor been present,\nthey might, for all the terrors they had anticipated for us, very well\nhave imagined themselves in the dining-room of some old English country\nmansion, waited upon by the family butler, and taken in to dinner by\nthe Bishop and Rural Dean. The Nikola I had seen when I had last visited\nthe house was as distant from our present host as if he had never\nexisted. When I looked at him, I could scarcely believe that he had ever\nbeen anything else but the most delightful man of my acquaintance.\n\n\"As a great traveller, Don Jos\u00e8,\" he said, addressing the guest on his\nright hand, \"you have of course dined in a great number of countries,\nand I expect under a variety of startling circumstances. Now tell me,\nwhat is your most pleasant recollection of a meal?\"\n\n\"That which I managed to obtain after the fall of Valparaiso,\" said\nMartinos. \"We had been without food for two days, that is to say,\nwithout a decent meal, when I chanced upon a house where breakfast had\nbeen abandoned without being touched. I can see it now. Ye gods! it was\ndelightful. And not the less so because the old rascal we were after had\nmanaged to make his escape.\"\n\n\"You were in opposition to Balmaceda, then?\" said Nikola quietly.\n\nMartinos paused for a moment before he answered.\n\n\"Yes, against Balmaceda,\" he replied. \"I wonder whether the old villain\nreally died, and if so what became of his money.\"\n\n\"That is a question one would like to have settled concerning a good\nmany people,\" Glenbarth put in.\n\n\"There was that man up in the Central States, the Republic of--ah! what\nwas its name?--Equinata,\" said Nikola. \"I don't know whether you\nremember the story.\"\n\n\"Do you mean the fellow who shot those unfortunate young men?\" I asked.\n\"The man you were telling me of the other night.\"\n\n\"The same,\" Nikola replied. \"Well, he managed to fly his country, taking\nwith him something like two million dollars. From that moment he has\nnever been heard of, and as a matter of fact I do not suppose he ever\nwill be. After all, luck has a great deal to do with things in this\nworld.\"\n\n\"Permit me to pour out a libation to the God of Chance,\" said Martinos.\n\"He has served me well.\"\n\n\"I think we can all subscribe to that,\" said Nikola. \"You, Sir Richard,\nwould not be the happy man you are had it not been for a stroke of good\nfortune which shipwrecked you on one island in the Pacific instead of\nanother. You, my dear Duke, would certainly have been drowned in\nBournemouth Bay had not our friend Hatteras chanced to be an early\nriser, and to have taken a certain cruise before breakfast; while you,\nDon Martinos, would in all probability not be my guest to-night had\nnot----\"\n\nThe Spaniard looked sharply at him as if he feared what he was about to\nhear.\n\n\"Had not what happened?\" he asked.\n\n\"Had President Balmaceda won his day,\" was the quiet reply. \"He did not\ndo so, however, and so we four sit here to-night. Certainly, a libation\nto the God of Chance.\"\n\nAt last the dinner came to an end, and the servants withdrew, having\nplaced the wine upon the table. The conversation drifted from one\nsubject to another until it reached the history of the palace in which\nwe were then the guests. For the Spaniard's information Nikola related\nit in detail. He did not lay any particular emphasis upon it, however,\nas he had done upon the story he had told the Duke and myself concerning\nthe room in which he had received us. He merely narrated it in a\nmatter-of-fact way, as if it were one in which he was only remotely\ninterested. Yet I could not help thinking that he fixed his eyes more\nkeenly than usual on the Spaniard, who sat sipping his wine and\nlistening with an expression of polite attention upon his sallow face.\nWhen the wine had been circulated for the last time, Nikola suggested\nthat we should leave the dining-room and return to his own\nsitting-room.\n\n\"I do not feel at home in this room,\" he said by way of explanation;\n\"for that reason I never use it. I usually partake of such food as I\nneed in the next, and allow the rest of the house to fall undisturbed\ninto that decay which you see about you.\"\n\nWith that we rose from the table and returned to the room in which he\nhad received us. A box of cigars was produced and handed round; Nikola\nmade coffee with his own hands at a table in the corner, and then I\nawaited the further developments that I knew would come. Presently\nNikola began to speak of the history of Venice. As I had already had\ngood reason to know, he had made a perfect study of it, particularly of\nthe part played in it by the Revecce family. He dealt with particular\nemphasis upon the betrayal through the Lion's Mouth, and then, with an\napology to Glenbarth and myself for boring us with it again, referred to\nthe tragedy of the vaults below the room in which we were then seated.\nOnce more he drew back the carpet and the murderous trap-door opened. A\ncold draught, suggestive of unspeakable horrors, came up to us.\n\n\"And there the starving wretch died with the moans of the woman he loved\nsounding in his ears from the room above,\" said Nikola. \"Does it not\nseem that you can hear them now? For my part, I think they will echo\nthrough all eternity.\"\n\nIf he had been an actor what a wonderful tragedian he would have made!\nAs he stood before us pointing down into the abyss he held us\nspell-bound. As for Martinos, all the accumulated superstition of the\ncenturies seemed to be concentrated in him, and he watched Nikola's face\nas if he were fascinated beyond the power of movement.\n\n\"Come,\" Nikola began at last, closing the trap-door and placing the rug\nupon it as he spoke, \"you have heard the history of the house. You shall\nnow do more than that! You shall see it!\"\n\nFixing his eyes upon us he made two or three passes in the air with his\nlong white hands. Meanwhile, it seemed to me as if he were looking into\nmy brain. I tried to avert my eyes, but without success. They were\nchained to his face, and I could not remove them. Then an overwhelming\nfeeling of drowsiness took possession of me, and I must have lost\nconsciousness, for I have no recollection of anything until I found\nmyself in a place I thought for a moment I had never seen before. And\nyet after a time I recognized it. It was a bright day in the early\nspring, the fresh breeze coming over the islands from the open sea was\nrippling the water of the lagoons. I looked at my surroundings. I was in\nVenice, and yet it was not the Venice with which I was familiar. I was\nstanding with Nikola upon the steps of a house, the building of which\nwas well-nigh completed. It was a magnificent edifice, and I could\neasily understand the pride of the owner as he stood in his gondola and\nsurveyed it from the stretch of open water opposite. He was a tall and\nhandsome man, and wore a doublet and hose, shoes with large bows, and a\ncloak trimmed with fur. There was also a chain of gold suspended round\nhis neck. Beside him was a man whom I rightly guessed to be the\narchitect, for presently the taller man placed his hand upon his\nshoulder and praised him for the work he had done, vowing that it was\nadmirable. Then, at a signal, the gondolier gave a stroke of his oar and\nthe little vessel shot across to the steps, where they landed close to\nwhere I was standing. I stepped back in order that they might pass, but\nthey took no sort of notice of my presence. Passing on, they entered the\nhouse.\n\n\"They do not see us,\" said Nikola, who was beside me. \"Let us enter and\nhear what the famous Admiral Francesco del Revecce thinks of his\nproperty.\"\n\nWe accordingly did so to find ourselves in a magnificent courtyard. In\nthe centre of this courtyard was a well, upon which a carver in stone\nwas putting the finishing touches to a design of leaves and fruit. From\nhere led a staircase, and this we ascended. In the different rooms\nartists were to be observed at work upon the walls, depicting\nsea-fights, episodes in the history of the Republic, and of the famous\nmaster of the house. Before each the owner paused, bestowing approval,\ngiving advice, or suggesting such alteration or improvement as he\nconsidered needful. In his company we visited the kitchens, the\npantler's offices, and penetrated even to the dungeons below the\nwater-level. Then we once more ascended to the courtyard, and stood at\nthe great doors while the owner took his departure in his barge, pleased\nbeyond measure with his new abode. Then the scene changed.\n\nOnce more I stood before the house with Nikola. It was night, but it was\nnot dark, for great cressets flared on either side of the door, and a\nhundred torches helped to illuminate the scene. All the Great World of\nVenice was making its way to the Palace Revecce that night. The first of\nthe series of gorgeous _f\u00eates_ given to celebrate the nuptials of\nFrancesco del Revecce, the most famous sailor of the Republic, who had\ntwice defeated the French fleet, and who had that day married the\ndaughter of the Duke of Levano, was in progress. The bridegroom was\nstill comparatively young, he was also rich and powerful; the bride was\none of the greatest heiresses of Venice, besides being one of its\nfairest daughters. Their new home was as beautiful as money and the\ntaste of the period could make it. Small wonder was it, therefore, that\nthe world hastened to pay court to them.\n\n\"Let us once more enter and look about us,\" said Nikola.\n\n\"One moment,\" I answered, drawing him back a step as he was in the act\nof coming into collision with a beautiful girl who had just disembarked\nfrom her gondola upon the arm of a grey-haired man.\n\n\"You need have no fear,\" he replied. \"You forget that we are Spirits in\na Spirit World, and that they are not conscious of our presence.\"\n\nAnd indeed this appeared to be the case, for no one recognized us, and\nmore than once I saw people approach Nikola, and, scarcely believable\nthough it may seem, walk through him without being the least aware of\nthe fact.\n\nOn this occasion the great courtyard was brilliantly illuminated. Scores\nof beautiful figures were ascending the stairs continually, while\nstrains of music sounded from the rooms above.\n\n\"Let us ascend,\" said Nikola, \"and see the pageant there.\"\n\nIt was indeed a sumptuous entertainment, and when we entered the great\nreception-rooms, no fairer scene could have been witnessed in Venice. I\nlooked upon the bridegroom and his bride, and recognized the former as\nbeing the man I had seen praising the architect on the skill he had\ndisplayed in the building of the palace. He was more bravely attired\nnow, however, than on that occasion, and did the honours of his house\nwith the ease and assurance of one accustomed to uphold the dignity of\nhis name and position in the world. His bride was a beautiful girl, with\na pale, sweet face, and eyes that haunted one long after they had looked\nat them. She was doing her best to appear happy before her guests, but\nin my own heart I knew that such was not the case. Knowing what was\nbefore her, I realized something of the misery that was weighing so\nheavily upon her heart. Surrounding her were the proudest citizens of\nthe proudest Republic of all time. There was not one who did not do her\nhonour, and among the women who were her guests that night, how many\nwere there who envied her good fortune? Then the scene once more\nchanged.\n\nThis time the room was that with which I was best acquainted, the same\nin which Nikola had taken up his abode. The frescoes upon the walls and\nceilings were barely dry, and Revecce was at sea again, opposing his\nold enemy the French, who once more threatened an attack upon the city.\nIt was towards evening, and the red glow of the sunset shone upon a\nwoman's face, as she stood beside the table at which a man was writing.\nI at once recognized her as Revecce's bride. The man himself was young\nand handsome, and when he looked up at the woman and smiled, the\nlove-light shone in her eyes, as it had not done when she had looked\nupon Revecce. There was no need for Nikola to tell me that he was Andrea\nBunopelli, the artist to whose skill the room owed its paintings.\n\n\"Art thou sure 'twill be safe, love?\" asked the woman in a low voice, as\nshe placed her hand upon his shoulder. \"Remember 'tis death to bring a\nfalse accusation against a citizen of the Republic, and 'twill be worse\nwhen 'tis against the great Revecce.\"\n\n\"I have borne that in mind,\" the man answered. \"But there is nought to\nfear, dear love. The writing will not be suspected, and I will drop it\nin the Lion's Mouth myself,--and then?\"\n\nHer only answer was to bend over him and kiss him. He scattered the sand\nupon the letter he had written, and when it was dry, folded it up and\nplaced it in his bosom. Then he kissed the woman once more and prepared\nto leave the room. The whole scene was so real that I could have sworn\nthat he saw me as I stood watching him.\n\n\"Do not linger,\" she said in farewell. \"I shall know no peace till you\nreturn.\"\n\nDrawing aside the curtain he disappeared, and then once more the scene\nchanged.\n\nA cold wind blew across the lagoon, and there was a suspicion of coming\nthunder in the air. A haggard, ragged tatterdemalion was standing on the\nsteps of a small door of the palace. Presently it was opened to him by\nan ancient servant, who asked his business, and would have driven him\naway. When he had whispered something to him, however, the other\nrealized that it was his master, whom he thought to be a prisoner in the\nhands of the French. Then, amazed beyond measure, the man admitted him.\nHaving before me the discovery he was about to make, I looked at him\nwith pity, and when he stumbled and almost fell, I hastened forward to\npick him up, but only clasped air. At last, when his servant had told\nhim everything, he followed him to a distant portion of the palace,\nwhere he was destined to remain hidden for some days, taking advantage\nof the many secret passages the palace contained, and by so doing\nconfirming his suspicions. His wife was unfaithful to him, and the man\nwho had wrought his dishonour was the man to whom he had been so kind\nand generous a benefactor. I seemed to crouch by his side time after\ntime in the narrow passage behind the arras, watching through a secret\nopening the love-making going on within. I could see the figure beside\nme quiver with rage and hate, until I thought he would burst in upon\nthem, and then the old servant would lead him away, his finger upon his\nlips. How many times I stood with him there I cannot say, it is\nsufficient that at last he could bear the pain no longer, and, throwing\nopen the secret door, entered the room and confronted the man and woman.\nAs I write, I can recall the trembling figures of the guilty pair, and\nthe woman's shriek rings in my ears even now. I can see Bunopelli rising\nfrom the table, at which he had been seated, with the death-look in his\nface. Within an hour the confession of the crime they had perpetrated\nagainst Revecce had been written and signed, and they were separated and\nmade secure until the time for punishment should arrive. Then, for the\nfirst time since he had arrived in Venice, he ordered his barge and set\noff for the Council Chamber to look his accusers in the face and to\ndemand the right to punish those who had betrayed him.\n\n[Illustration: \"Throwing open the secret door ... he confronted them.\"]\n\nWhen he returned his face was grim and set, and there was a look in his\neyes that had not been there before. He ascended to the room in which\nthere was the trap-door in the floor, and presently the wretched couple\nwere brought before him. In vain Bunopelli pleaded for mercy for the\nwoman. There was no mercy to be obtained there. I would have pleaded for\nthem too, but I was powerless to make myself heard. I saw the great\nbeads of perspiration that stood upon the man's brow, the look of\nagonizing entreaty in the woman's face, and the relentless decision on\nher husband's countenance. Nothing could save them now. The man was\ntorn, crying to the last for mercy for her, from the woman's side, the\ntrap-door gave a click, and he disappeared. Then they laid hands upon\nthe woman, and I saw them force open her mouth--but I cannot set down\nthe rest. My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and though I rushed\nforward in the hope of preventing their horrible task, my efforts were\nas useless as before. Then, with the pitiless smile still upon the\nhusband's face, and the moans ascending from the vault below, and the\nwoman with.... The scene changed.\n\nWhen I saw it again a stream of bright sunshine was flooding the room.\nIt was still the same apartment, and yet in a sense not the same. The\nfrescoes were faded upon the walls, there was a vast difference in the\nshape and make of the furniture, and in certain other things, but it\nwas nevertheless the room in which Francesco del Revecce had taken his\nterrible revenge. A tall and beautiful woman, some thirty years of age,\nwas standing beside the window holding a letter in her hand. She had\nfinished the perusal of it and was lingering with it in her hand,\nlooking lovingly upon the signature. At last she raised it to her lips\nand kissed it passionately. Then, crossing to a cradle at the further\nend of the room, she knelt beside it and looked down at the child it\ncontained. She had bent her head in prayer, and was still praying, when\nwith a start I awoke to find myself sitting beside Glenbarth and the Don\nin the room in which we had been smoking after dinner. Nikola was\nstanding before the fireplace, and there was a look like that of death\nupon his face. It was not until afterwards that the Spaniard and\nGlenbarth informed me that they had witnessed exactly what I had seen.\nBoth, however, were at a loss to understand the meaning of the last\npicture, and, having my own thoughts in my mind, I was not to be tempted\ninto explaining it to them. That it was Nikola's own mother, and that\nthis house was her property, and the same in which the infamous governor\nof the Spanish Colony had made his love known to her, I could now see.\nAnd if anything were wanting to confirm my suspicions, Nikola's face,\nwhen my senses returned to me, was sufficient to do so.\n\n\"Let me get out of this house,\" cried the Duke thickly. \"I cannot\nbreathe while I am in it. Take me away, Hatteras; for God's sake take me\naway!\"\n\nI had already risen to my feet and had hastened to his side.\n\n\"I think it would be better that we should be going, Doctor Nikola,\" I\nsaid, turning to our host.\n\nThe Spaniard, on his side, did not utter a word. He was so dazed as to\nbe beyond the power of speech. But Nikola did not seem to comprehend\nwhat I said. Never before had I seen such a look upon his face. His\ncomplexion was always white, now, however, it was scarcely human. For my\nown part I knew what was passing in his mind, but I could give no\nutterance to it.\n\n\"Come,\" I said to my companions, \"let us return to our hotel.\"\n\nThey rose and began to move mechanically towards the door. The Duke had\nscarcely reached it, however, before Nikola, with what I could see was a\nviolent effort, recovered his self-possession.\n\n\"You must forgive me,\" he said in almost his usual voice. \"I had for the\nmoment forgotten my duties as host. I fear you have had but a poor\nevening.\"\n\nWhen we had donned our hats and cloaks, we accompanied him down-stairs\nthrough the house, which was now as silent as the grave, to the great\ndoors upon the steps. Having hailed a gondola we entered it, after\nwishing Nikola \"good-night.\" He shook hands with Glenbarth and myself,\nbut I noticed that he did not offer to do so with the Don. Then we shot\nout into the middle of the canal and had presently turned the corner and\nwere making our way towards our hotel. I am perfectly certain that\nduring the journey not one of us spoke. The events of the evening had\nproved too much for us, and conversation was impossible. We bade\nMartinos \"good-night\" in the hall, and then the Duke and I ascended to\nour own apartments. Spirits had been placed upon the table, and I\nnoticed that the Duke helped himself to almost twice his usual quantity.\nHe looked as if he needed it.\n\n\"My God, Dick,\" he said, \"did you see what happened in that room? Did\nyou see that woman kneeling with the----\"\n\nHe put down his glass hurriedly and walked to the window. I could\nsympathize with him, for had I not seen the same thing myself?\n\n\"It's certain, Dick,\" he said, when he returned a few moments later,\n\"that, were I to see much more of Nikola in that house, I should go\nmad. But why did he let me see it? Why? Why? For Heaven's sake answer\nme.\"\n\nHow could I tell him the thought that was in my own mind? How could I\nreveal to him the awful fear that was slowly but surely taking\npossession of me? Why had Nikola invited the Don to his house? Why had\nhe shown him the picture of that terrible crime? Like Glenbarth I could\nonly ask the same question--Why? Why? Why?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\nBefore Glenbarth and I parted on the terrible evening described in the\nprevious chapter, we had made a contract with each other to say nothing\nabout what we had seen to the ladies. For this reason, when my wife\nendeavoured to interrogate me concerning our entertainment, I furnished\nher with an elaborate description of the dinner itself; spoke of the\nmarvellous cooking, and I hope gave her a fairly accurate account of the\n_menu_, or rather so much of it as I could remember.\n\n\"I suppose I must confess to defeat then,\" she said, when I had\nexhausted my powers of narration. \"I had a settled conviction that\nsomething out of the common would have occurred. You seem simply to have\nhad a good dinner, to have smoked some excellent cigars, and the rest to\nhave been bounded merely by the commonplace. For once I fear Doctor\nNikola has not acted up to his reputation.\"\n\nIf she had known the truth, I wonder what she would have said? Long\nafter she had bade me good-night I lay awake ruminating on the different\nevents of the evening. The memory of what I had seen in that awful room\nwas still as fresh with me as if I were still watching it. And yet, I\nasked myself, why should I worry so much about it? Nikola had willed\nthat his audience should see certain things. We had done so. It was no\nmore concerned with the supernatural than I was myself. Any man who had\nthe power could have impressed us in the same way. But though I told\nmyself all this, I must confess that I was by no means convinced. I knew\nin my heart that the whole thing had been too real to be merely a matter\nof make-believe. No human brain could have invented the ghastly horrors\nof that room in such complete detail. Even to think of it now, is to\nbring the scene almost too vividly before me; and when I lay awake at\nnight I seem to hear the shrieks of the wretched woman, and the moans of\nthe man perishing in the vaults below.\n\nOn my retiring to rest my wife had informed me that she fancied Miss\nTrevor had been slightly better that evening. She had slept peacefully\nfor upwards of an hour, and seemed much refreshed by it.\n\n\"Her maid is going to spend the night in her room,\" said Phyllis; \"I\nhave told her that, if she sees any change in Gertrude's condition, she\nis to let me know at once. I do hope that she may be herself again\nto-morrow.\"\n\nThis, however, was unhappily not destined to be the case; for a little\nbefore three o'clock, there was a tapping upon our bedroom door.\nGuessing who it would be, my wife went to it, and, having opened it a\nlittle, was informed that Miss Trevor was worse.\n\n\"I must go to her at once,\" said Phyllis, and, having clothed herself\nwarmly, for the night was cold, she departed to our guest's room.\n\n\"I am really afraid that there is something very serious the matter with\nher,\" she said, when she returned after about a quarter of an hour's\nabsence. \"She is in a high state of fever, and is inclined to be\ndelirious. Don't you think we had better send for the doctor?\"\n\n\"I will have a messenger despatched to him at once if you think it\nnecessary,\" I returned. \"Poor girl, I wonder what on earth it can be?\"\n\n\"Perhaps the doctor will be able to tell us now,\" said my wife. \"The\nsymptoms are more fully developed, and he should surely be able to make\nhis diagnosis. But I must not stay here talking. I must go back to her.\"\n\nWhen she had departed, I dressed myself and went down to the hall in\nsearch of the night watchman. He undertook to find a messenger to go\nand fetch the doctor, and, when I had seen him despatched on his errand,\nI returned to the drawing-room, switched on the electric light, and\ntried to interest myself in a book until the medico should arrive. I was\nnot very successful, however, for interesting though I was given to\nunderstand the book was, I found my thoughts continually leaving it and\nreturning to the house in the Rio del Consiglio. I wondered what Nikola\nwas doing at that moment, and fancied I could picture him still at work,\nlate though the hour was. At last, tiring of the book and wanting\nsomething else to occupy my thoughts, I went to the window and drew back\nthe shutters. It was a beautiful morning, and the myriad stars overhead\nwere reflected in the black waters of the canal like the lamps of a\nlarge town. Not a sound was to be heard; it might have been a City of\nthe Dead, so still was it. As I stood looking across the water, I\nthought of the city's past history, of her ancient grandeur, of her\nwondrous art, and of the great men who had been her children. There was\na tremendous lesson to be learnt from her Fall if one could only master\nit. I was interrupted in my reverie by the entrance of the doctor, whom\nI had told the night watchman to conduct to my presence immediately upon\nhis arrival.\n\n\"I am sorry to bring you out at this time of the night, doctor,\" I\nsaid; \"but the fact is, Miss Trevor is much worse. My wife spent the\ngreater part of the evening with her, and informed me on my return from\na dinner that she was better. Three-quarters of an hour ago, however,\nher maid, who had been sleeping in her room, came to us with the news\nthat a change for the worse had set in. This being the case, I thought\nit better to send for you at once.\"\n\n\"You did quite right, my dear sir, quite right,\" the medico replied.\n\"There is nothing like promptness in these matters. Perhaps I had better\nsee her without further delay.\"\n\nWith that I conducted him to the door of Miss Trevor's room. He knocked\nupon it, was admitted by my wife, and then disappeared from my gaze.\nSomething like half-an-hour elapsed before he returned to me in the\ndrawing-room. When he did so his face looked grave and troubled.\n\n\"What do you think of her condition now, doctor?\" I asked.\n\n\"She is certainly in a state of high fever,\" he answered. \"Her pulse is\nvery high, and she is inclined to be delirious. At the same time I am\nbound to confess to you that I am at a loss to understand the reason of\nit. The case puzzled me considerably yesterday, but I am even more\npuzzled by it now. There are various symptoms that I can neither account\nfor nor explain. One thing, however, is quite certain--the young lady\nmust have a trained nurse, and, with your permission, I will see that\none comes in after breakfast. Lady Hatteras is not strong enough for the\ntask.\"\n\n\"I am quite with you there,\" I answered. \"And I am vastly obliged to you\nfor putting your foot down. At the same time, will you tell me whether\nyou deem it necessary for me to summon her father from England?\"\n\n\"So far as I can see at present, I do not think there is any immediate\nneed,\" he replied. \"Should I see any reason for so doing, I would at\nonce tell you. I have given a prescription to Lady Hatteras, and\nfurnished her with the name of a reliable chemist. I shall return\nbetween nine and ten o'clock, and shall hope to have better news for you\nthen.\"\n\n\"I sincerely trust you may,\" I said. \"As you may suppose, her illness\nhas been a great shock to us.\"\n\nI then escorted him down-stairs and afterwards returned to my bedroom.\nThe news which he had given me of Miss Trevor's condition was most\ndistressing, and made me feel more anxious than I cared to admit. At\nseven o'clock I saw my wife for a few minutes, but, as before, she had\nno good news to give me.\n\n\"She is quite delirious now,\" she said, \"and talks continually of some\ngreat trouble which she fears is going to befall her; implores me to\nhelp her to escape from it, but will not say definitely what it is. It\ngoes to my heart to hear her, and to know that I cannot comfort her.\"\n\n\"You must be careful what you are doing,\" I replied. \"The doctor has\npromised to bring a trained nurse with him after breakfast, who will\nrelieve you of the responsibility. I inquired whether he thought we had\nbetter send for her father, and it is in a way encouraging to know that,\nso far, he does not think there is any necessity for such an extreme\nstep. In the meantime, however, I think I will write to the Dean and\ntell him how matters stand. It will prepare him, but I am afraid it will\ngive the poor old gentleman a sad fright.\"\n\n\"It could not give him a greater fright than it has done us,\" said\nPhyllis. \"I do not know why I should do so, but I cannot help thinking\nthat I am to blame in some way.\"\n\n\"What nonsense, my dear girl,\" I replied. \"I am sure you have nothing\nwhatsoever to reproach yourself with. Far from it. You must not worry\nyourself about it, or we shall be having you upon our hands before long.\nYou must remember that you are yourself far from strong.\"\n\n\"I am quite myself again now,\" she answered. \"It is only on account of\nyour anxiety that I treat myself as an invalid.\" Then she added, \"I\nwonder what the Duke will say when he hears the news?\"\n\n\"He was very nearly off his head yesterday,\" I answered. \"He will be\nneither to hold nor to bind to-day.\"\n\nShe was silent for a few moments, then she said thoughtfully--\n\n\"Do you know, Dick, it may seem strange to you, but I do not mind saying\nthat I attribute all this trouble to Nikola.\"\n\n\"Good gracious,\" I cried, in well-simulated amazement, \"why on earth to\nNikola?\"\n\n\"Because, as was the case five years ago, it has been all trouble since\nwe met him. You remember how he affected Gertrude at the outset. She was\nfar from being herself on the night of our tour through the city, and\nnow in her delirium she talks continually of his dreadful house, and\nfrom what she says, and the way she behaves, I cannot help feeling\ninclined to believe that she imagines herself to be seeing some of the\ndreadful events which have occurred or are occurring in it.\"\n\n\"God help her,\" I said to myself. And then I continued aloud to my wife,\n\"Doubtless Nikola's extraordinary personality has affected her in some\nmeasure, as it does other people, but you are surely not going to jump\nto the conclusion that because she has spoken to him he is necessarily\nresponsible for her illness? That would be the wildest flight of fancy.\"\n\n\"And yet, do you know,\" she continued, \"I have made a curious\ndiscovery.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" I asked, not without some asperity, for, having so much\non my mind, I was not in the humour for fresh discoveries.\n\nShe paused for a moment before she replied. Doubtless she expected that\nI would receive it with scepticism, if not with laughter; and Phyllis,\never since I have known her, has a distinct fear of ridicule.\n\n\"You may laugh at me if you please,\" she said, \"yet the coincidence is\ntoo extraordinary to be left unnoticed. Do you happen to be aware, Dick,\nthat Doctor Nikola called at this hotel at exactly eleven o'clock?\"\n\nI almost betrayed myself in my surprise. This was the last question I\nexpected her to put to me.\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered, with an endeavour to appear calm, \"I do happen to be\naware of that fact. He merely paid a visit of courtesy to the Don, prior\nto the other's accepting his hospitality. I see nothing remarkable in\nthat. I did the same myself, if you remember.\"\n\n\"Of course I know that,\" she replied, \"but there is more to come. Are\nyou also aware that it was at the very moment of his arrival in the\nhouse that Gertrude was taken ill? What do you think of that?\"\n\nShe put this question to me with an air of triumph, as if it were one\nthat no argument on my part could refute. At any rate, I did not attempt\nthe task.\n\n\"I think nothing of it,\" I replied. \"You may remember that you once fell\ndown in a dead faint within a few minutes of the vicar's arrival at our\nhouse at home. Would you therefore have me suppose that it was on\naccount of his arrival that you were taken ill? Why should you attribute\nMiss Trevor's illness to Nikola's courtesy to our friend the Don?\"\n\n\"I beg that you will not call him our friend,\" said Phyllis with\nconsiderable dignity. \"I do not like the man.\"\n\nI did not tell her that the Duke was equally outspoken concerning our\ncompanion. I could see that they would put their heads together, and\nthat trouble would be the inevitable result. Like a wise husband I held\nmy peace, knowing that whatever I might say would not better the\nsituation.\n\nHalf-an-hour later it was my unhappy lot to have to inform Glenbarth of\nMiss Trevor's condition.\n\n\"I told you yesterday that it was a matter not to be trifled with,\" he\nsaid, as if I were personally responsible for her grave condition. \"The\ndoctor evidently doesn't understand the case, and what you ought to do,\nif you have any regard for her life, is to send a telegram at once to\nLondon, ordering competent advice.\"\n\n\"The Dean of Bedminster has a salary of eight hundred pounds per annum,\"\nI answered quietly. \"Such a man as you would want me to send for would\nrequire a fee of some hundreds of guineas to make such a journey.\"\n\n\"And you would allow her to die for the sake of a few paltry pounds?\" he\ncried. \"Good heavens, Dick, I never thought you were a money-grabber.\"\n\n\"I am glad you did not,\" I answered. \"It is of her father I am thinking.\nBesides, I do not know that the doctor here is as ignorant as you say.\nHe has a most complicated and unusual case to deal with, and I honour\nhim for admitting the fact that he does not understand it. Many men in\nhis profession would have thrown dust in our eyes, and have pretended to\na perfect knowledge of the case.\"\n\nThe young man did not see it in the same light as I did, and was plainly\nof the opinion that we were not doing what we might for the woman he\nloved. My wife, however, took him in hand after breakfast, and talked\nquietly but firmly to him. She succeeded where I had failed, and when I\nreturned from an excursion to the chemist's, where I had the\nprescriptions made up, I found him in a tolerably reasonable frame of\nmind.\n\nAt a quarter to ten the doctor put in an appearance once more, and,\nafter a careful inspection of his patient, informed me that it was his\nopinion that a consultant should be called in. This was done, and to our\ndismay the result came no nearer elucidating the mystery than before.\nThe case was such a one as had never entered into the experience of\neither man. To all intents and purposes there was nothing that would in\nany way account for the patient's condition. The fever had left her, and\nshe complained of no pain, while her mind, save for occasional relapses,\nwas clear enough. They were certain it was not a case of paralysis, yet\nshe was incapable of moving, or of doing anything to help herself. The\nduration of her illness was not sufficient to justify her extreme\nweakness, nor to account for the presence of certain other symptoms.\nThere was nothing for it, therefore, but for us to possess our souls in\npatience and to wait the turn of events. When the doctors had departed I\nwent in search of Glenbarth, and gave him their report. The poor fellow\nwas far from being consoled by it. He had hoped to receive good news,\nand their inability to give a satisfactory decision only confirmed his\nbelief in their incompetency. Had I permitted him to do so, he would\nhave telegraphed at once for the best medical advice in Europe, and\nwould have expended half his own princely revenues in an attempt to make\nher herself once more. It was difficult to convince him that he had not\nthe right to heap liabilities on the old gentleman's shoulder, which, in\nhonour bound, he would feel he must repay.\n\nI will not bore my readers with the abusive arguments against society,\nand social etiquette, with which he favoured me in reply to my speech.\nThe poor fellow was beside himself with anxiety, and it was difficult to\nmake him understand that, because he had not placed a narrow band of\ngold upon a certain pretty finger, he was debarred from saving the life\nof the owner of that self-same finger. Towards nightfall it was certain\nthat Miss Trevor's condition was gradually going from bad to worse. With\nthe closing of the day the delirium had returned, and the fever had also\ncome with it. We spent a wretchedly anxious night, and in the morning,\nat the conclusion of his first visit, the doctor informed me that, in\nhis opinion, it would be advisable that I should telegraph to the young\nlady's father. This was an extreme step, and, needless to say, it caused\nme great alarm. It was all so sudden that it was scarcely possible to\nrealize the extent of the calamity. Only two days before Miss Trevor had\nbeen as well as any of us, and certainly in stronger health than my\nwife. Now she was lying, if not at death's door, at least at no great\ndistance from that grim portal. Immediately this sad intelligence was\nmade known to me I hastened to the telegraph-office, and despatched a\nmessage to the Dean, asking him to come to us with all possible speed.\nBefore luncheon I received a reply to the effect that he had already\nstarted. Then we sat ourselves down to wait and to watch, hoping almost\nagainst hope that this beautiful, happy young life might be spared to\nus. All this time we had seen nothing of the Don or of Nikola. The\nformer, however, had heard of Miss Trevor's illness, and sent polite\nmessages as to her condition. I did not tell Glenbarth of this, for the\nyoung man had sufficient to think of just then without my adding to his\nworries.\n\nI must pass on now to describe to you the arrival of the Dean of\nBedminster in Venice. Feeling that he would be anxious to question me\nconcerning his daughter's condition, I made a point of going to meet him\nalone. Needless to say he was much agitated on seeing me, and implored\nme to give him the latest bulletin.\n\n\"God's will be done,\" he said quietly, when he had heard all I had to\ntell him. \"I did not receive your letter,\" he remarked, as we made our\nway from the station in the direction of Galaghetti's hotel, \"so that\nyou will understand that I know nothing of the nature of poor Gertrude's\nillness. What does the doctor say is the matter with her?\"\n\nI then informed him how the case stood, and of the uncertainty felt by\nthe two members of the medical profession I had called in. \"Surely that\nis very singular, is it not?\" he asked, when I had finished. \"There are\nnot many diseases left that they are unable to diagnose.\"\n\n\"In this case, however, I fear they are at a loss to assign a name to\nit,\" I said. \"However, you will be able very soon to see her for\nyourself, and to draw your own conclusions.\"\n\nThe meeting between the worthy old gentleman and his daughter was on his\nside affecting in the extreme. She did not recognize him, nor did she\nknow my wife. When he joined me in the drawing-room a quarter of an hour\nor so later his grief was pitiful to witness. While we were talking\nGlenbarth entered, and I introduced them to each other. The Dean knew\nnothing of the latter's infatuation for his daughter, but I fancy,\nafter a time, he must have guessed that there was something in the wind\nfrom the other's extraordinary sympathy with him in his trial. As it\nhappened the old gentleman had not arrived any too soon. That afternoon\nMiss Trevor was decidedly worse, and the medical men expressed their\ngravest fears for her safety. All that day and the next we waited in\nsuspense, but there was no material change. Nature was fighting her\nbattle stubbornly, inch by inch. The girl did not seem any worse, nor\nwas there any visible improvement. On the doctor's advice a third\nphysician was called in, but with no greater success than before. Then\non one never-to-be-forgotten afternoon the first doctor took me on one\nside and informed me that in his opinion, and those of his colleagues,\nit would not be wise to cherish any further hopes. The patient was\nundeniably weaker, and was growing more so every hour. With a heart\nsurcharged with sorrow I went to the Dean's room and broke the news to\nhim. The poor old man heard me out in silence, and then walked to the\nwindow and looked down upon the Grand Canal. After a while he turned,\nand coming back to me once more laid his hand upon my arm.\n\n\"If it is the Lord's will that I lose her, what can I do but submit?\" he\nsaid. \"When shall I be allowed to see her?\"\n\n\"I will make inquiries,\" I answered, and hastened away in search of the\ndoctor. As I passed along the passage I met Galaghetti. The little man\nhad been deeply grieved to hear the sad intelligence, and hastened in\nsearch of me at once.\n\n\"M'lord,\" said he, for do what I would I could never cure him of the\nhabit, \"believe me it is not so hopeless, though they say so, if you\nwill but listen to me. There is Doctor Nikola, your friend! He could\ncure her if you went to him. Did he not cure my child?\"\n\nI gave a start of surprise. I will confess that the idea had occurred to\nme, but I had never given the probability of putting it into execution a\nthought. Why should it not be done? Galaghetti had reminded me how\nNikola had cured his child when she lay at the point of death, and the\nother doctors of Venice had given her up. He was so enthusiastic in his\npraises of the doctor that I felt almost inclined to risk it. When I\nreached the drawing-room Glenbarth hastened towards me.\n\n\"What news?\" he inquired, his anxiety showing itself plainly upon his\nface.\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"For God's sake don't trifle with me,\" he cried. \"You can have no idea\nwhat I am suffering.\"\n\nFeeling that it would be better if I told him everything, I made a clean\nbreast of it. He heard me out before he spoke.\n\n\"She must not die,\" he said, with the fierceness of despair. \"If there\nis any power on earth that can be invoked, it shall be brought to bear.\nCan you not think of anything? Try! Remember that every second is of\nimportance.\"\n\n\"Would it be safe to try Nikola?\" I inquired, looking him steadfastly in\nthe face. \"Galaghetti is wild for me to do so.\"\n\nIn spite of his dislike to Nikola, Glenbarth jumped at the suggestion as\na drowning man clutches at a straw.\n\n\"Let us find him at once,\" he cried, seizing me by the arm. \"If any one\ncan save her he is the man. Let us go to him without a moment's delay.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" I answered, \"that will never do. Even in a case of such\ngravity the proprieties must be observed. I must consult the doctors\nbefore calling in another.\"\n\nI regret very much to say that here the Duke made use of some language\nthat was neither parliamentary nor courteous to those amiable gentlemen.\n\nI sought them out and placed the matter before them. To the idea of\ncalling in a fourth consultant they had not the least objection, though\nthey were all of the opinion that it could do no good. When, however, I\nmentioned the fact that that consultant's name was Nikola, I could\nplainly see that a storm was rising.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" I said, \"you must forgive me if I speak plainly and to the\npoint. You have given us to understand that your patient's case is\nhopeless. Now I have had considerable experience of Doctor Nikola's\nskill, and I feel that we should not be justified in withholding him\nfrom our counsel, if he will consent to be called in. I have no desire\nto act contrary to medical etiquette, but we must remember that the\npatient's life comes before aught else.\"\n\nOne doctor looked at the other, and all shook their heads.\n\n\"I fear,\" said the tallest of them, who invariably acted as spokesman,\n\"that if the services of the gentleman in question are called in, it\nwill be necessary for my colleagues and myself to abandon our interest\nin the case. I do not of course know how far your knowledge extends, but\nI hope you will allow me to say, sir, that the most curious stories are\ncirculated both as to the behaviour and the attainments of this Doctor\nNikola.\"\n\nThough I knew it to be true, his words nettled me. And yet I had such a\ndeeply-rooted belief in Nikola that, although they were determined to\ngive up the case, I felt we should still be equally, if not more,\npowerful without them.\n\n\"I sincerely hope, gentlemen,\" I said, \"that you will not do as you\npropose. Nevertheless, I feel that I should not be myself acting rightly\nif I were to allow your professional prejudices to stand in the way of\nmy friend's recovery.\"\n\n\"In that case I fear there is nothing left to us but to most reluctantly\nwithdraw,\" said one of the men.\n\n\"You are determined?\"\n\n\"Quite determined,\" they replied together. Then the tallest added, \"We\nmuch regret it, but our decision is irrevocable.\"\n\nTen minutes later they had left the hotel in a huff, and I found myself\nseated upon the horns of a serious dilemma. What would my position be if\nNikola's presence should exercise a bad effect upon the patient, or if\nhe should decline to render us assistance? In that case I should have\noffended the best doctors in Venice, and should in all probability have\nkilled her. It was a nice position to be placed in. One thing, however,\nwas as certain as anything could be, and that was the fact that there\nwas no time to lose. My wife was seriously alarmed when I informed her\nof my decision, but both Glenbarth and I felt that we were acting for\nthe best, and the Dean sided with us.\n\n\"Since you deem it necessary, go in search of Doctor Nikola at once,\"\nsaid my wife, when the latter had left us. \"Implore him to come without\ndelay; in another hour it may be too late.\" Then in a heart-broken\nwhisper she added, \"She is growing weaker every moment. Oh, Dick, Heaven\ngrant that we are not acting wrongly, and that he may be able to save\nher.\"\n\n\"I feel convinced that we are doing right,\" I answered. \"And now I will\ngo in search of Nikola, and if possible bring him back with me.\"\n\n\"God grant you may be successful in your search,\" said Glenbarth,\nwringing my hand. \"If Nikola saves her I will do anything he may ask,\nand still be grateful to him all the days of my life.\"\n\nThen I set off upon my errand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\nWith a heart as heavy as lead I made my way down-stairs, and having\nchartered a gondola, bade the man take me to the Palace Revecce with all\npossible haste. Old Galaghetti, who stood upon the steps, nodded\nvehement approval, and rubbed his hands with delight as he thought of\nthe triumph his great doctor must inevitably achieve. As I left the\nhotel I looked back at it with a feeling of genuine sorrow. Only a few\ndays before our party had all been so happy together, and now one was\nstricken down with a mysterious malady that, so far as I could see, was\nlikely to end in her death. Whether the gondolier had been admonished by\nGalaghetti to make haste, and was anxious to do so in sympathy with my\ntrouble, I cannot say; the fact, however, remains that we accomplished\nthe distance that separated the hotel from the palace in what could have\nbeen little more than half the time usually taken. My star was still in\nthe ascendant when we reached the palace, for when I had disembarked at\nthe steps, the old man who did menial service for Nikola, had just\nopened it and looked out. I inquired whether his master was at home,\nand, if so, whether I could see him? He evidently realized that my\nItalian was of the most rudimentary description, for it was necessary\nfor me to repeat my question three or four times before he could\ncomprehend my meaning. When at last he did so, he pointed up the stairs\nto signify that Nikola _was_ at home, and also that, if I desired to see\nhim, I had better go in search of him. I immediately did so, and\nhastened up the stairs to the room I have already described, and of\nwhich I entertained such ghastly recollections. I knocked upon the door,\nand a well-known voice bade me in English to \"come in.\" I was in too\ngreat a haste to fulfil my mission to observe at the time the\nsignificance these words contained. It was not until afterwards that I\nremembered the fact that, as we approached the palace, I had looked up\nat Nikola's window and had seen no sign of him there. As I had not rung\nthe bell, but had been admitted by the old man-servant, how could he\nhave become aware of my presence? But, as I say, I thought of all that\nafterwards. For the moment the only desire I had was to inform Nikola of\nmy errand.\n\nUpon my entering the room I found Nikola standing before a table on\nwhich were glasses, test-tubes, and various chemical paraphernalia. He\nwas engaged in pouring some dark-coloured liquid into a graduating\nglass, and when he spoke it was without looking round at me.\n\n\"I am very glad to see you, my dear Hatteras,\" he said. \"It is kind of\nyou to take pity on my loneliness. If you don't mind sitting down for a\nfew moments, and lighting a cigar--you'll find the box on the table--I\nshall have finished this, and then we can talk.\"\n\n\"But I am afraid I can't wait,\" I answered. \"I have come on the most\nimportant business. There is not a moment to lose.\"\n\n\"In that case I am to suppose that Miss Trevor is worse,\" he said,\nputting down the bottle from which he had been pouring, and afterwards\nreplacing the glass stopper with the same hand. \"I was afraid it might\nbe so.\"\n\n\"How do you know that she is ill?\" I asked, not a little surprised to\nhear that he was aware of our trouble.\n\n\"I manage to know a good many things,\" he replied. \"I was aware that she\nwas ill, and have been wondering how long it would be before I was\ncalled in. The other doctors don't like my interference, I suppose?\"\n\n\"They certainly do not,\" I answered. \"But they have done no good for\nher.\"\n\n\"And you think I may be able to help you?\" he inquired, looking at me\nover the graduating glass with his strange, dark eyes.\n\n\"I certainly do,\" I replied.\n\n\"I am your debtor for the compliment.\"\n\n\"And you will come?\"\n\n\"You really wish it?\"\n\n\"I believe it is the only thing that will save her life,\" I answered.\n\"But you must come quickly, or it will be too late. She was sinking when\nI left the hotel.\"\n\nWith a hand that never shook he poured the contents of the glass into a\nsmall phial, and then placed the latter in his pocket.\n\n\"I am at your disposal now,\" he answered. \"We will set off as soon as\nyou like. As you say, we must lose no time.\"\n\n\"But will it not be necessary for you to take some drugs with you?\" I\nasked.\n\n\"I am taking this one,\" he replied, placing his hat upon his head as he\nspoke.\n\nI remembered that he had been making his prescription up as I entered\nthe room. Had he then intended calling to see her, even supposing I had\nnot come to ask his assistance? I had no chance of putting the question\nto him, however.\n\n\"Have you a gondola below?\" he asked, as we went down the stairs.\n\nI replied in the affirmative; and when we gained the hall door we\ndescended the steps and took our places in it. On reaching the hotel I\nconducted him to the drawing-room, where we found the Dean and Glenbarth\neagerly awaiting our coming. I presented the former to Nikola, and then\nwent off to inform my wife of his arrival. She accompanied me back to\nthe drawing-room, and when she entered the room Nikola crossed it to\nreceive her. Though she looked at him in a frightened way I thought his\nmanner soon put her at her ease.\n\n\"Perhaps you will be kind enough to take me to my patient,\" he said,\nwhen they had greeted each other. \"As the case is so serious, I had\nbetter lose no time in seeing her.\"\n\nHe followed my wife from the room, and then we sat down to await his\nverdict, with what anxiety you may imagine.\n\n[Illustration: \"He laid his hand upon her forehead.\"]\n\nOf all that transpired during his stay with Miss Trevor I can only speak\nfrom hearsay. My wife, however, was unfortunately too agitated to\nremember everything that occurred. She informed me that on entering the\nroom he advanced very quietly towards the bed, and for a few moments\nstood looking down at the frail burden it supported. Then he felt her\npulse, lifted the lids of her eyes, and for a space during which a man\nmight have counted fifty slowly, laid his hand upon her forehead. Then,\nturning to the nurse, who had of course heard of the withdrawal of\nthe other doctors, he bade her bring him a wine-glass of iced water. She\ndisappeared, and while she was absent Nikola sat by the bedside holding\nthe sick girl's hand, and never for a moment taking his eyes from her\nface. Presently the woman returned, bringing the water as directed. He\ntook it from her, and going to the window poured from a phial, which he\nhad taken from his pocket, some twenty drops of the dark liquid it\ncontained. Then with a spoon he gave her nearly half of the contents of\nthe glass. This done he once more seated himself beside the bed, and\nwaited patiently for the result. Several times within the next half-hour\nhe bent over the recumbent figure, and was evidently surprised at not\nseeing some change which he expected would take place. At the end of\nthat time he gave her another spoonful of the liquid, and once more sat\ndown to watch. When an hour had passed he permitted a sigh of\nsatisfaction to escape him, then, turning to my wife, whose anxiety was\nplainly expressed upon her face, he said--\n\n\"I think, Lady Hatteras, that you may tell them that she will not die.\nThere is still much to be done, but I pledge my word that she will\nlive.\"\n\nThe reaction was too much for my wife; she felt as if she were choking,\nthen she turned giddy, and at last was possessed with a frantic desire\nto cry. Softly leaving the room, she came in search of us. The moment\nthat she opened the door of the drawing-room, and I looked upon her\nface, I knew that there was good news for us.\n\n\"What does he say about her?\" cried the Duke, forgetting the Dean's\npresence, while the latter rose and drew a step nearer, without speaking\na word.\n\n\"There is good news,\" she said, fumbling with her handkerchief in a\nsuspicious manner. \"Doctor Nikola says she will live.\"\n\n\"Thank God,\" we all said in one breath. And Glenbarth murmured something\nmore that I did not catch.\n\nSo implicit was our belief in Nikola that, as you have doubtless\nobserved, we accepted his verdict without a second thought. I kissed my\nwife, and then shook hands solemnly with the Dean. The Duke had\nmeanwhile vanished, presumably to his own apartment, where he could\nmeditate on certain matters undisturbed. After that Phyllis left us and\nreturned to the sick-room, where she found Nikola still seated beside\nthe bed, just as she had left him. So far as she could judge, Miss\nTrevor did not appear to be any different, though perhaps she did not\nbreathe as heavily as she had hitherto done. Nikola, however, appeared\nto be well satisfied. He nodded approvingly to Phyllis as she entered,\nand then returned to his contemplation of his patient once more. In this\nfashion hour after hour went by. Once during each my wife would come to\nme with reassuring bulletins. \"Miss Trevor was, if anything, a little\nbetter, she did not seem so restless as before.\" \"The fever seemed to be\nabating;\" and then, towards nine o'clock that night, \"at last Gertrude\nwas sleeping peacefully.\" It was not, however, until nearly midnight\nthat Nikola himself made his appearance.\n\n\"The worst is over,\" he said, approaching the Dean; \"your daughter is\nnow asleep, and will only require watching for the next two hours. At\nthe end of that time I shall return, and shall hope to find a decided\nimprovement in her condition.\"\n\n\"I can never thank you enough, my dear sir,\" said the worthy old\nclergyman, shaking the other by the hand while the tears ran down his\nwrinkled cheeks. \"But for your wonderful skill there can be no sort of\ndoubt that she would be lost to us now. She is my only child, my ewe\nlamb, and may Heaven bless you for your goodness to me.\"\n\nI thought that Nikola looked at him rather curiously as he said this. It\nwas the first time I had seen Nikola brought into the society of a\ndignitary of the English Church, and I was anxious to see how the pair\ncomported themselves under the circumstances. A couple more\ndiametrically opposite could be scarcely imagined. They were as oil and\nwater, and could scarcely be expected to assimilate.\n\n\"Sir, I should have been less than human if I had not done everything\npossible to save that beautiful young life,\" said Nikola, with what was\nto me the suggestion of a double meaning in his speech. \"And now you\nmust permit me to bid you good-bye for the present. In two hours I shall\nreturn again.\"\n\nThinking he might prefer to remain near his patient, I pressed him to\nstay at the hotel, offering to do all that lay in my power to make him\ncomfortable. But he would not hear of such a thing.\n\n\"As you should be aware by this time, I never rest away from my own\nhouse,\" he answered, in a tone that settled the matter once and for all.\n\"If anything should occur in the meantime, send for me and I will come\nat once. I do not apprehend any change, however.\"\n\nWhen he had gone I went in search of the Duke and found him in his own\nroom.\n\n\"Dick,\" he said, \"look at me and tell me if you can see any difference.\nI feel as though I had passed through years of suffering. Another week\nwould have made an old man of me. How is she now?\"\n\n\"Progressing famously,\" I answered. \"You need not look so sceptical, for\nthis must surely be the case, since Nikola has gone home to take some\nrest and will not return for two hours.\"\n\nHe wrung my hand on hearing this.\n\n\"How little I dreamt,\" he said, \"when we were confined in that wretched\nroom in Port Said, and when he played that trick upon me in Sydney, that\nsome day he was destined to do me the greatest service any man has ever\ndone me in my life. Didn't I tell you that those other medicos did not\nknow what they were doing, and that Nikola is the greatest doctor in the\nworld?\"\n\nI admitted that he had given me the first assurance, but I was not quite\nso certain about the latter. Then, realizing how he must be feeling, I\nproposed that we should row down the canal for a breath of fresh sea\nair. At first the Duke was for refusing the invitation, eventually\nhowever he assented, and when we had induced the Dean to accompany us we\nset off. When we reached the hotel once more it was to discover that\nNikola had returned, and that he had again taken up his watch in the\nsick-room. He remained there all night, passing hour after hour at the\nbedside, without, so my wife asserted, moving, save to give the\nmedicine, and without apparently feeling the least fatigue.\n\nIt was not until between seven and eight o'clock next morning that I\ncaught a glimpse of him. He was in the dining-room then, partaking of a\nsmall cup of black coffee, into which he had poured some curious\ndecoction of his own. For my part I have never yet been able to discover\nhow Nikola managed to keep body and soul together on his frugal fare.\n\n\"How is the patient this morning?\" I asked, when we had greeted each\nother.\n\n\"Out of danger,\" he replied, slowly stirring his coffee as he spoke.\n\"She will continue to progress now. I hope you are satisfied that I have\ndone all I can in her interests?\"\n\n\"I am more than satisfied,\" I answered. \"I am deeply grateful. As her\nfather said yesterday, if it had not been for you, Nikola, she must\ninevitably have succumbed. She will have cause to bless your name for\nthe remainder of her existence.\"\n\nHe looked at me very curiously as I said this.\n\n\"Do you think she will do that?\" he asked, with unusual emphasis. \"Do\nyou think it will please her to remember that she owes her life to\n_me_?\"\n\n\"I am sure she will always be deeply grateful,\" I replied, somewhat\nambiguously. \"I fancy you know that yourself.\"\n\n\"And your wife? What does she say?\"\n\n\"She thinks you are certainly the greatest of all doctors,\" I answered,\nwith a laugh. \"I feel that I ought to be jealous, but strangely enough\nI'm not.\"\n\n\"And yet I have done nothing so very wonderful,\" he continued, almost as\nif he were talking to himself. \"But that those other blind worms are\ncontent to go on digging in their mud, when they should be seeking the\nlight in another direction, they could do as much as I have done. By the\nway, have you seen our friend, Don Martinos, since you dined together at\nmy house?\"\n\nI replied to the effect that I had not done so, but reported that the\nDon had sent repeated messages of sympathy to us during Miss Trevor's\nillness. I then inquired whether Nikola had seen him?\n\n\"I saw him yesterday morning,\" he replied. \"We devoted upwards of four\nhours to exploring the city together.\"\n\nI could not help wondering how the Don had enjoyed the excursion, but,\nneedless to remark, I did not say anything on this score to my\ncompanion.\n\nThat night Nikola was again in attendance upon his patient. Next day\nshe was decidedly better; she recognized her father and my wife, and\nevery hour was becoming more and more like her former self.\n\n\"Was she surprised when she regained consciousness to find Nikola at her\nbedside?\" I inquired of Phyllis when the great news was reported to me.\n\n\"Strangely enough she was not,\" Phyllis replied. \"I fully expected,\nremembering my previous suspicions, that it would have a bad effect upon\nher, but it did nothing of the kind. It was just as if she had expected\nto find him there.\"\n\n\"And what were his first words to her?\"\n\n\"'I hope you are feeling better, Miss Trevor,' he said, and she replied,\n'Much better,' that was all. It was as commonplace as could be.\"\n\nNext day Nikola only looked in twice, the day after once, and at the end\nof the week informed me that she stood in no further need of his\nattention.\n\n\"How shall we ever be able to reward you, Nikola?\" I asked, for about\nthe hundredth time, as we stood together in the corridor outside the\nsick-room.\n\n\"I have no desire to be rewarded,\" he answered. \"It is enough for me to\nsee Miss Trevor restored to health. Endeavour, if you can, to recall a\ncertain conversation we had together respecting the lady in question on\nthe evening that I narrated to you the story concerning the boy, who was\nso badly treated by the Spanish Governor. Did I not tell you then that\nour Destinies were inextricably woven together? I informed you that it\nhad been revealed to me many years ago that we should meet; should you\nfeel surprised, therefore, if I told you that I had also been warned of\nthis illness?\"\n\nOnce more I found myself staring at him in amazement.\n\n\"You are surprised? Believe me, however astonishing it may seem, it is\nquite true. I knew that Miss Trevor would come into my life; I knew also\nthat it would be my lot to save her from death. What is more, I know\nthat in the end the one thing, which has seemed to me most desirable in\nlife, will be taken from me by her hands.\"\n\n\"I am afraid I cannot follow you,\" I said.\n\n\"Perhaps not, but you will be able to some day,\" he answered. \"That\nmoment has not yet arrived. In the meantime watch and wait, for before\nwe know it it will be upon us.\"\n\nThen, with a look that was destined to haunt me for many a long day, he\nbade me farewell, and left the hotel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\nTo the joy of every one, by the Thursday following Miss Trevor was\nsufficiently recovered to be able to leave her room. It was a happy day\nfor every one concerned, particularly for the Duke, who came nearer\npresenting the appearance of an amiable lunatic on that occasion than I\nhad ever seen him before. Why my wife should have encouraged him in his\nextravagance I cannot say, but the fact remains that she allowed him to\ngo out with her that morning with the professed idea of purchasing a few\nflowers to decorate the drawing-room for the invalid's reception. So\ngreat was their extravagance that the room more resembled a hot-house,\nor a flower-show, than a civilized apartment. I pointed this out to my\nwife with a gentle remonstrance, and was informed that, being a mere\nhusband, I knew nothing at all about the matter. I trust that I\npreserved my balance and lived up to my reputation for sanity in the\nmidst of this general excitement, though I am prepared to confess that\nI was scarcely myself when the triumphal procession, consisting of my\nwife and the Dean, set off to the invalid's apartment to escort her in.\nWhen she appeared it was like a ghost of her former self, and a poor wan\nghost too. Her father, of course, she had already seen, but neither I\nnor Glenbarth had of course had the honour of meeting her since she was\ntaken ill. She received him very graciously, and was kind enough to\nthank me for the little I had done for her. We seated her between us in\na comfortable chair, placed a footstool under her feet, and then, in\norder that she should not have too much excitement, and that she might\nrest quietly, the Dean, the Duke, and myself were sent about our\nbusiness for an hour. When we returned, a basket of exquisite roses\nstood on the table, and on examining it the card of Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos\nwas found to be attached to it.\n\nIt is some proof of the anxiety that Glenbarth felt not to do anything\nthat might worry her, when I say that he read the card and noted the\ngiver without betraying the least trace of annoyance. It is true that he\nafterwards furnished me with his opinion of the giver for presuming to\nsend them, but the casual observer would have declared, had he been\npresent to observe the manner in which he behaved when he had first\nseen the gift, that he had taken no interest in the matter at all.\n\nNext day Miss Trevor was permitted to get up a little earlier, and on\nthe day following a little earlier still. In the meantime more flowers\nhad arrived from the Don, while he himself had twice made personal\ninquiries as to the progress she was making. It was not until the third\nday of her convalescence that Nikola called to see his patient. I was\nsitting alone with her at the time, my wife and our other two guests\nhaving gone shopping in the Merceria. I was idly cutting a copy of a\nTauchnitz publication that I had procured for her on the previous day.\nThe weather was steadily growing warmer, and, for this reason, the\nwindows were open and a flood of brilliant sunshine was streaming into\nthe room. From the canal outside came the sounds of rippling laughter,\nthen an unmistakably American voice called out, \"Say, girls, what do you\nthink of Venice now you're here?\" Then another voice replied, \"Plenty of\nwater about, but they don't seem to wash their buildings much.\" Miss\nTrevor was about to speak, in fact she had opened her lips to do so,\nwhen a strange expression appeared upon her face. She closed her eyes\nfor a moment, and I began to fear that she was ill. When she opened them\nagain I was struck by a strange fact; the eyes were certainly there,\nbut there was no sort of life in them. They were like those of a\nsleep-walker who, while his eyes are open, sees nothing of things about\nhim. A moment later there was a knock at the door, and Doctor Nikola,\nescorted by a servant, entered the room. Wishing us \"good-morning,\" he\ncrossed the room and shook hands with Miss Trevor, afterwards with\nmyself.\n\n\"You are certainly looking better,\" he said, addressing his patient, and\nplacing his finger and thumb upon her wrist as he spoke.\n\n\"I am much better,\" she answered, but for some reason without her usual\nanimation.\n\n\"In that case I think this will be the last visit I shall pay you in my\nprofessional capacity,\" he said. \"You have been an excellent patient,\nand in the interests of what our friend Sir Richard here calls Science,\npermit me to offer you my grateful thanks.\"\n\n\"It is I who should thank you,\" she answered, as if she were repeating\nsome lesson she had learnt by heart.\n\n\"I trust then, on the principle that one seldom or never acts as one\nshould, that you will not do it,\" he replied, with a smile. \"I am amply\nrewarded by observing that the flush of health is returning to your\ncheeks.\"\n\nHe then inquired after my wife's health, bade me be careful of her for\nthe reason that, since I had behaved so outrageously towards them, no\nother doctors in Venice would attend her, should she be taken ill, and\nthen rose to bid us adieu.\n\n\"This is a very short visit,\" I said. \"Cannot we persuade you to give us\na little more of your society?\"\n\n\"I fear not,\" he answered. \"I am developing quite a practice in Venice,\nand my time is no longer my own.\"\n\n\"You have other patients?\" I asked, in some surprise, for I did not\nthink he would condescend to such a thing.\n\n\"I have your friend, Don Martinos, now upon my hands,\" he said. \"The\ngood Galaghetti is so abominably grateful for what I did for his child,\nthat he will insist on trying to draw me into experimenting upon other\npeople.\"\n\n\"Would it be indiscreet to ask what is the matter with the Don?\" I said.\n\"He does not look like a man who would be likely to be an invalid.\"\n\n\"I do not think there is so very much wrong with him,\" Nikola replied\nvaguely. \"At any rate it is not anything that cannot be very easily put\nright.\"\n\nWhen he left the room I accompanied him down the corridor as far as the\nhall.\n\n\"The fact of the matter is,\" he began, when we were alone together, \"our\nfriend the Don has been running the machinery of life a little too fast\nof late. I am told that he lost no less a sum than fifty thousand pounds\nin English money last week, and certainly his nerves are not what they\nonce were.\"\n\n\"He is a gambler, then?\" I said.\n\n\"An inveterate gambler, I should say,\" Nikola answered. \"And when a\nSpaniard takes to that sort of amusement, he generally does it most\nthoroughly.\"\n\nWhatever the Don's illness may have been, it certainly had made its mark\nupon his appearance. I chanced to meet him that afternoon on the Rialto\nbridge, and was thunderstruck at the change. The man's face was white,\nand his eyes had dark rings under them, that to my thinking spoke for an\nenfeebled heart. When he stopped to speak to me, I noticed that his\nhands trembled as though he were afflicted with St. Vitus's dance.\n\n\"I hope Miss Trevor is better,\" he said, after I had commented upon the\nfact that I had not seen him of late.\n\n\"Much better,\" I answered. \"In fact, she may now be said to be\nconvalescent. I was sorry to hear from Doctor Nikola, however, that you\nyourself are not quite the thing.\"\n\n\"Nerves, only nerves,\" he answered, with what was almost a frightened\nlook in his eyes. \"Doctor Nikola will set me right in no time, I am\nsure of that. I have had a run of beastly luck lately, and it has upset\nme more than I can say.\"\n\nI knew to what he referred, but I did not betray my knowledge. After\nthat he bade me farewell, and continued his walk. That evening another\nexquisite basket of flowers arrived for Miss Trevor. There was no card\nattached to it, but as the Duke denied all knowledge of it, I felt\ncertain as to whence it came. On the day following, for the first time\nsince her illness, Miss Trevor was able to leave the house and to go for\na short airing upon the canal. We were rejoiced to take her, and made\narrangements for her comfort, but there was one young man who was more\nattentive than all the rest of the party put together. Would Miss Trevor\nlike another cushion? Was she quite sure that she was comfortable? Would\nshe have preferred a gondola to a barca? I said nothing, but I wondered\nwhat the Dean thought, for he is an observant old gentleman. As for the\nyoung lady herself, she accepted the other's attentions with the most\ncharming good-humour, and thus all went merry as marriage-bells. On the\nday following she went out again, and on the afternoon of the next day\nfelt so much stronger as to express a desire to walk for a short time on\nthe piazza of St. Mark. We accordingly landed at the well-known steps,\nand strolled slowly towards the cathedral. It was a lovely afternoon,\nthe air being soft and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the\nsea.\n\nIt is needless for me to say that Glenbarth was in the Seventh Heaven of\nDelight, and was already beginning to drop sundry little confidences\ninto my ear. Her illness had ruined the opportunity he had hoped to have\nhad, but he was going to make up for it now. Indeed it looked very much\nas if she had at last made up her mind concerning him, but, having had\none experience of the sex, I was not going to assure myself that all was\nsatisfactory until a definite announcement was made by the lady herself.\nAs it turned out it was just as well that I did so, for that afternoon,\nnot altogether unexpectedly I must confess, was destined to prove the\ntruth of the old saying that the course of true love never runs smooth.\nMiss Trevor, with the Duke on one side and my wife on the other, was\nslowly passing across the great square, when a man suddenly appeared\nbefore us from one of the shops on our right. This individual was none\nother than the Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos, who raised his hat politely to the\nladies and expressed his delight at seeing Miss Trevor abroad once more.\nAs usual, he was faultlessly dressed, and on the whole looked somewhat\nbetter in health than he had done when I had last seen him. By some\nmeans, I scarcely know how it was done, he managed to slip in between my\nwife and Miss Trevor, and in this order we made our way towards our\nusual resting-place, Florian's _caf\u00e9_. Never, since we had known him,\nhad the Don exerted himself so much to please. The Duke, however, did\nnot seem satisfied. His high spirits had entirely left him, and, in\nconsequence, he was now as quiet as he had been talkative before. It was\nplain to all of us that the Don admired Miss Trevor, and that he wanted\nher to become aware of the fact. Next morning he made an excuse and\njoined our party again. At this the Duke's anger knew no bounds.\nPersonally I must confess that I was sorry for the young fellow. It was\nvery hard upon him, just as he was progressing so favourably, that\nanother should appear upon the scene and distract the lady's attention.\nYet there was only one way of ending it, if only he could summon up\nsufficient courage to do it. I fear, however, that he was either too\nuncertain as to the result, or that he dreaded his fate, should she\nconsign him to the Outer Darkness, too much to put it into execution.\nFor this reason he had to submit to sharing her smiles with the\nSpaniard, which, if only he could have understood it, was an excellent\nthing for his patience, and a salutary trial for his character.\n\nMeanwhile my wife looked on in despair.\n\n\"I thought it was all settled,\" she said pathetically, on one occasion,\n\"and now they are as far off as ever. Why on earth does that troublesome\nman come between them?\"\n\n\"Because he has quite as much right to be there as the other,\" I\nanswered. \"If the Duke wants her, let him ask her, but that's just what\nhe won't do. The whole matter should have been settled by now.\"\n\n\"It's all very well for you to say that,\" she returned. \"The poor boy\nwould have done it before Gertrude was taken ill, but that you opposed\nhim.\"\n\n\"And a very proper proceeding too,\" I answered. \"Miss Trevor was under\nmy charge, and I was certainly not going to let any young man, doubtless\nvery desirable, but who had only known her two days, propose to her, get\nsent about his business, render it impossible for our party to continue\ntogether, and by so doing take all the pleasure out of our holiday.\"\n\n\"So it was only of yourself you were thinking?\" she returned, with that\nwonderful inconsistency that is such a marked trait in her character.\n\"Why do you urge him now to do it?\"\n\n\"Because Miss Gertrude is no longer under my charge,\" I answered. \"Her\nfather is here, and is able to look after her.\" Then an idea occurred to\nme, and I acted upon it at once.\n\n\"When you come to think of it, my dear,\" I said, as if I had been\ncarefully considering the question, \"why should the Don not make\nGertrude as good a husband as Glenbarth? He is rich, doubtless comes of\na very good family, and would certainly make a very presentable figure\nin society.\"\n\nShe stared at me aghast.\n\n\"Well,\" she said in astonishment, \"I must say that I think you are a\nloyal friend. You know that the Duke has set his heart on marrying her,\nand yet you are championing the cause of his rival. I should never have\nthought it of you, Dick.\"\n\nI hastened to assure her that I was not in earnest, but for a moment I\nalmost fancy she thought I was.\n\n\"If you are on the Duke's side I wonder that you encourage Don Martinos\nto continue his visits,\" she went on, after the other matter had been\nsatisfactorily settled. \"I cannot tell you how much I dislike him. I\nfeel that I would rather see Gertrude married to a crossing-sweeper than\nto that man. How she can even tolerate him, I do not know. I find it\nvery difficult to do so.\"\n\n\"Poor Don,\" I said, \"he does not appear to have made a very good\nimpression. In common justice I must admit that, so far as I am\nconcerned, he has been invariably extremely civil.\"\n\n\"Because he wants your interest. You are the head of the house.\"\n\n\"It is a pretty fiction--let it pass however.\"\n\nShe pretended not to notice my gibe.\n\n\"He is gambling away every halfpenny he possesses.\"\n\nI regarded her with unfeigned astonishment. How could she have become\naware of this fact? I put the question to her.\n\n\"Some one connected with the hotel told my maid, Phillipa,\" she\nanswered. \"They say he never returns to the hotel until between two and\nthree in the morning.\"\n\n\"He is not married,\" I retorted.\n\nShe vouchsafed no remark to this speech, but, bidding me keep my eyes\nopen, and beware lest there should be trouble between the two men, left\nme to my own thoughts.\n\nThe warning she had given me was not a futile one, for it needed only\nhalf an eye to see that Glenbarth and Martinos were desperately jealous\nof one another. They eyed each other when they met as if, at any moment,\nthey were prepared to fly at each other's throats. Once the Duke's\nbehaviour was such as to warrant my speaking to him upon the subject\nwhen we were alone together.\n\n\"My dear fellow,\" I said, \"I must ask you to keep yourself in hand. I\ndon't like having to talk to you, but I have to remember that there are\nladies in the case.\"\n\n\"Then why on earth doesn't Martinos keep out of my way?\" he asked\nangrily. \"You pitch into me for getting riled, but you don't see how\nvillainously rude he is to me. He contradicts me as often as he can,\nand, for the rest of the time, treats me as if I were a child.\"\n\n\"In return you treat him as if he were an outsider, and had no right to\nlook at, much less to speak to, Miss Trevor. Nevertheless he is our\nfriend--or if he is not our friend, he has at least been introduced to\nus by a friend. Now I have no desire that you should quarrel at all, but\nif you must do so, let it be when you are alone together, and also when\nyou are out of the hotel.\"\n\nI had no idea how literally my words were to be taken.\n\nThat night, according to a custom he had of late adopted, Martinos put\nin an appearance after dinner, and brought his guitar with him. As he\nbade us \"good-evening\" I looked at the Duke's face. It was pale and set\nas if he had at last come to an understanding with himself. Presently\nmy wife and I sang a duet together, in a fashion that pointed very\nplainly to the fact that our thoughts were elsewhere. Miss Trevor\nthanked us in a tone that showed me that she also had given but small\nattention to our performance. Then Gertrude sang a song of Tosti's very\nprettily, and was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. After this the\nDon was called upon to perform. He took up his guitar, and having tuned\nit, struck a few chords and began to sing. Though I look back upon that\nmoment now with real pain, I must confess that I do not think I had ever\nheard him sing better; the merry laughter of the song suited his voice\nto perfection. It was plainly a comic ditty with some absurd imitations\nof the farm-yard at the end of each verse. When he had finished, my wife\npolitely asked him to give us a translation of the words. Fate willed\nthat she should ask, I suppose, and also that he should answer it.\n\n\"It is a story of a foolish young man who loved a fair maid,\" he\nreplied, speaking with the utmost deliberation. \"Unfortunately, however,\nhe was afraid to tell her of his love. He pined to be with her, yet,\nwhenever he was desirous of declaring his passion, his courage failed\nhim at the last moment, and he was compelled to talk of the most\ncommonplace things, such as the animals upon his father's farm. At last\nshe, tiring of such a laggard, sent him away in disgust to learn how to\nwoo. In the meantime she married a man who was better acquainted with\nhis business.\"\n\nWhether the song was exactly as he described it, I am not in a position\nto say; the fact, however, remains that at least four of our party saw\nthe insinuation and bitterly resented it. I saw the Duke's face flush\nand then go pale. I thought for a moment that he was going to say\nsomething, but he contented himself by picking up a book from the table\nat his side, and glancing carelessly at it. I could guess, by the way\nhis hands gripped it, something of the storm that was raging in his\nbreast. My wife, meanwhile, had turned the conversation into another\nchannel by asking the Dean what he had thought of a certain old church\nhe had visited that morning. This gave a little relief, but not very\nmuch. Ten minutes later the Don rose and bade us \"good-night.\" With a\nsneer on his face, he even extended his good wish to the Duke, who\nbowed, but did not reply. When he had gone, my wife gave the signal for\na general dispersal, and Glenbarth and I were presently left in the\ndrawing-room alone. I half expected an immediate outburst, but to my\nsurprise he said nothing on the subject. I had no intention of\nreferring to it unless he did, and so the matter remained for the time\nin abeyance. After a conversation on general topics, lasting perhaps a\nquarter of an hour, we wished each other \"good-night,\" and retired to\nour respective rooms. When I entered my wife's room later, I was\nprepared for the discussion which I knew was inevitable.\n\n\"What do you think of your friend now?\" she asked, with a touch of\nsarcasm thrown into the word \"friend.\" \"You of course heard how he\ninsulted the Duke?\"\n\n\"I noticed that he did a very foolish thing, not only for his own\ninterests with us, but also for several other reasons. You may rely upon\nit that if ever he had any chance with Gertrude----\"\n\n\"He never had the remotest chance, I can promise you that,\" my wife\ninterrupted.\n\n\"I say if ever he had a chance with Gertrude, he has lost it now. Surely\nthat should satisfy you.\"\n\n\"It does not satisfy me that he should be rude to our guest at any time,\nbut I am particularly averse to his insulting him in our presence.\"\n\n\"You need not worry yourself,\" I said. \"In all probability you will see\nno more of him. I shall convey a hint to him upon the subject. It will\nnot be pleasant for Anstruther's sake.\"\n\n\"Mr. Anstruther should have known better than to have sent him to us,\"\nshe replied. \"There is one thing I am devoutly thankful for, and that is\nthat the Duke took it so beautifully. He might have been angry, and have\nmade a scene. Indeed I should not have blamed him, had he done so.\"\n\nI did not ask her, for reasons of my own, whether she was sure that his\nGrace of Glenbarth was not angry. I must confess that I was rendered\nmore uneasy by the quiet way he had taken it, than if he had burst into\nan explosion. Concealed fires are invariably more dangerous than open\nones.\n\nNext morning after breakfast, while we were smoking together in the\nbalcony, a note was brought to Glenbarth. He took it, opened it, and\nwhen he had read the contents, thrust it hastily into his pocket.\n\n\"No answer,\" he said, as he lit a cigar, and I thought his hand trembled\na little as he put the match to it.\n\nHis face was certainly paler than usual, and there was a far-away look\nin his eyes that showed me that it was not the canal or the houses\nopposite that he was looking upon.\n\n\"There is something behind all this, and I must find out what it is,\" I\nsaid to myself. \"Surely he can't be going to make a fool of himself.\"\n\nI knew, however, that my chance of getting anything satisfactory out of\nhim lay in saying nothing about the matter just then. I must play my\ngame in another fashion.\n\n\"What do you say if we run down to Rome next week?\" I asked, after a\nlittle pause. \"My wife and Miss Trevor seem to think they would enjoy\nit. There are lots of people we know there just now.\"\n\n\"I shall be very pleased,\" he answered, but with a visible effort.\n\nAt any other time he would have jumped eagerly at the suggestion.\nDecidedly there was something wrong! At luncheon he was preoccupied, so\nmuch so that I could see Miss Trevor wondered what was the matter. Had\nshe known the terrible suspicion that was growing in my own mind, I\nwonder what she would have said, and also how she would have acted?\n\nThat afternoon the ladies resolved to remain at home, and the Dean\ndecided to stay with them. In consequence, the Duke and I went out\ntogether. He was still as quiet as he had been in the morning, but as\nyet I had not been able to screw up my courage to such a pitch as to be\nable to put the question to him. Once, however, I asked the reason for\nhis quietness, and received the evasive reply \"that he was not feeling\nquite up to the mark that day.\"\n\nThis time I came a little nearer the point.\n\n\"You are not worrying about that wretched fellow's rudeness, I hope?\" I\nsaid, looking him fairly and squarely in the face.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" he answered. \"Why should I be?\"\n\n\"Well, because I know you are hot-tempered,\" I returned, rather puzzled\nto find an explanation for him.\n\n\"Oh, I'll have it out with him at some time or another, I have no\ndoubt,\" he continued, and then changed the subject by referring to some\nletters he had had from home that day.\n\nWhen later we returned to the hotel for afternoon tea, we found the two\nladies eagerly awaiting our coming. From the moment that he entered the\nroom, Miss Trevor was graciousness itself to the young man. She smiled\nupon him, and encouraged him, until he scarcely knew whether he was\nstanding upon his head or his heels. I fancy she was anxious to\ncompensate him for the Don's rudeness to him.\n\nThat evening we all complained of feeling tired, and accordingly went to\nbed early. I was the latest of the party, and my own man had not left my\ndressing-room more than a minute before he returned with the\ninformation that the Duke's valet would be glad if he could have a few\nwords with me.\n\n\"Send him in,\" I said, and forthwith the man made his appearance.\n\n\"What is it, Henry?\" I inquired. \"Is your master not well?\"\n\n\"I don't know what's wrong with his Grace, sir,\" the man replied. \"I'm\nvery much frightened about him, and I thought I would come to you at\nonce.\"\n\n\"Why, what is the matter? He seemed well enough when I bade him\ngood-night, half-an-hour or so ago.\"\n\n\"It isn't that, sir. He's well enough in his body,\" said the man.\n\"There's something else behind it all. I know, sir, you won't mind my\ncoming to you. I didn't know what else to do.\"\n\n\"You had better tell me everything, then I shall know how to act. What\ndo you think is the reason of it?\"\n\n\"Well, sir, it's like this,\" Henry went on. \"His Grace has been very\nquiet all day. He wrote a lot of letters this morning and put them in\nhis dispatch-box. 'I'll tell you what to do with them later, Henry,' he\nsaid when he had finished. Well, I didn't think very much of that, but\nwhen to-night he asked me what I had made up my mind to do with myself\nif ever I should leave his service, and told me that he had put it down\nin his will that I was to have five hundred pounds if he should die\nbefore I left him, I began to think there was something the matter.\nWell, sir, I took his things to-night, and was in the act of leaving the\nroom, when he called me back. 'I'm going out early for a swim in the sea\nto-morrow morning,' he said, 'but I shan't say anything to Sir Richard\nHatteras about it, because I happen to know that he thinks the currents\nabout here are dangerous. Well, one never knows what may turn up,' he\ngoes on to say, 'and if, by any chance, Henry--though I hope such a\nthing will not happen--I should be caught, and should not return, I want\nyou to give this letter to Sir Richard. But remember this, you are on no\naccount to touch it until mid-day. Do you understand?' I told him that I\ndid, but I was so frightened, sir, by what he said, that I made up my\nmind to come and see you at once.\"\n\nThis was disturbing intelligence indeed. From what he said there could\nbe no doubt that the Don and Glenbarth contemplated fighting a duel. In\nthat case what was to be done? To attempt to reason with the Duke in his\npresent humour would be absurd, besides his honour was at stake, and,\nthough I am totally against duels, that counts for something.\n\n\"I am glad you told me this, Henry,\" I said, \"for now I shall know how\nto act. Don't worry about your master's safety. Leave him to me. He is\nsafe in my hands. He shall have his swim to-morrow morning, but I shall\ntake very good care that he is watched. You may go to bed with an easy\nheart, and don't think about that letter. It will not be needed, for he\nwill come to no harm.\"\n\nThe man thanked me civilly and withdrew, considerably relieved in his\nmind by his interview with me. Then I sat myself down to think the\nmatter out. What was I to do? Doubtless the Don was an experienced\nduellist, while Glenbarth, though a very fair shot with a rifle or\nfowling-piece, would have no chance against him with the pistol or the\nsword. It was by no means an enviable position for a man to be placed\nin, and I fully realized my responsibility in the matter. I felt that I\nneeded help, but to whom should I apply for it? The Dean would be worse\nthan useless; while to go to the Don and to ask him to sacrifice his\nhonour to our friendship for Glenbarth would be to run the risk of being\nshown the door. Then I thought of Nikola, and made up my mind to go to\nhim at once. Since the Duke had spoken of leaving the hotel early in the\nmorning, there could be no doubt as to the hour of the meeting. In that\ncase there was no time to be lost. I thereupon went to explain matters\nto my wife.\n\n\"I had a suspicion that this would happen,\" she said, when she had heard\nme out. \"Oh, Dick! you must stop it without fail. I should never forgive\nmyself if anything were to happen to him while he is our guest. Go to\nDoctor Nikola at once and tell him everything, and implore him to help\nus as he has helped us before.\"\n\nThus encouraged, I left her, and went back to my dressing-room to\ncomplete my attire. This done I descended to the hall to endeavour to\nobtain a gondola. Good fortune favoured me, for the American party who\nhad but lately arrived at the hotel, had just returned from the theatre.\nI engaged the man who had brought them, and told him to take me to the\nPalace Revecce with all possible speed.\n\n\"It's a late hour, Senor,\" he replied, \"and I'd rather go anywhere than\nto that house in the Rio del Consiglio.\"\n\n\"You will be well paid for your trouble and also for your fear,\" I\nreplied as I got into the boat.\n\nNext moment we were on our way. A light was burning in Nikola's room as\nwe drew up at the palace steps. I bade the gondolier wait for me, and\nto ensure his doing so, refused to pay him until my return. Then I rang\nthe bell, and was rewarded in a few minutes by hearing Nikola's\nfootsteps on the flag-stones of the courtyard. When the door opened he\nwas vastly surprised at seeing me; he soon recovered his equilibrium,\nhowever. It took more than a small surprise to upset Nikola. He invited\nme to enter.\n\n\"I hope there is nothing wrong,\" he said politely. \"Otherwise how am I\nto account for this late call?\"\n\n\"Something is very wrong indeed,\" I said. \"I have come to consult you,\nand to ask for your assistance.\"\n\nBy this time he had reached his own room--that horrible room I\nremembered so well.\n\n\"The fact of the matter is,\" I said, seating myself in the chair he\noffered me as I spoke, \"the Duke of Glenbarth and Don de Martinos have\narranged to fight a duel soon after daybreak.\"\n\n\"To fight a duel?\" Nikola repeated. \"So it has come to this, has it?\nWell, what do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"Surely it is needless for me to say,\" I replied. \"I want you to help me\nto stop it. You like the Duke, I know. Surely you will not allow that\nbrave young life to be sacrificed by that Spaniard?\"\n\n\"From the way you speak it would appear that _you_ do not care for\nMartinos?\" Nikola replied.\n\n\"I frankly confess that I do not,\" I replied. \"He was introduced to me\nby a personal friend, but none of my party care very much for him. And\nnow this new affair only adds to our dislike. He insulted the Duke most\nunwarrantably in my drawing-room last night, and this duel is the\nresult.\"\n\n\"Always the same, always the same,\" Nikola muttered to himself. \"But the\nend is coming, and his evil deeds will bear their own fruit.\" Then\nturning to me, he said aloud--\"Since you wish it, I will help you. Don\nJos\u00e8 is a magnificent shot, and he would place a bullet in the Duke's\nanatomy wherever he might choose to receive it. The issue would never\nfor one moment be in doubt.\"\n\n\"But how do you know the Don is such a good shot?\" I inquired with\nconsiderable surprise, for until the moment that I had introduced them\nto each other I had no idea that they had ever met.\n\n\"I know more about him than you think,\" he answered, fixing his\nglittering eyes upon me. \"But now to business. If they fight at daybreak\nthere is not much time to be lost.\"\n\nHe went to his writing-table at the other side of the room and wrote a\nfew lines on a sheet of note-paper. Placing it in an envelope he\ninquired whether I had told my gondolier to wait. Upon my answering in\nthe affirmative, he left me and went down-stairs.\n\n\"What have you done?\" I inquired when he returned.\n\n\"I have sent word to an agent I sometimes employ,\" he said. \"He will\nkeep his eyes open. Now you had better get back to your hotel and to\nbed. Sleep secure on my promise that the two men shall not fight. When\nyou are called, take the gondola you will find awaiting you outside the\nhotel, and I will meet you at a certain place. Now let me wish you a\ngood-night.\"\n\nHe conducted me to the hall below and saw me into the gondola. Then\nsaying something to the gondolier that I did not catch, he bade me\nadieu, and I returned to the hotel. Punctually at five o'clock I was\nawakened by a tapping at my bedroom door. I dressed, donned a cloak, for\nthe morning was cold, and descended to the hall. The night watchman\ninformed me that a gondola was awaiting me at the steps, and conducted\nme to it. Without a word I got in, and the little craft shot out into\nthe canal. We entered a narrow street on the other side, took two or\nthree turnings to right and left, and at last came to a standstill at\nsome steps that I had never noticed before. A tall figure, wrapped in a\nblack cloak, was awaiting us there. It was Nikola! Entering the gondola\nhe took his place at my side. Then once more we set off.\n\nAt the same moment, so Nikola informed me, Glenbarth was leaving the\nhotel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\nWhen I had picked up Nikola we continued our voyage. Dawn was just\nbreaking, and Venice appeared very strange and uncanny in the weird\nmorning light. A cold wind was blowing in from the sea, and when I\nexperienced its sharpness, I could not help feeling thankful that I had\nthe foresight to bring my cloak.\n\n\"How do you know where the meeting is to take place?\" I asked, after we\nhad been travelling a few minutes.\n\n\"Because, when I am unable to find things out for myself, I have agents\nwho can do it for me,\" he replied. \"What would appear difficult, in\nreality is very simple. To reach the place in question it would be\nnecessary for them to employ gondolas, and for the reason that, as you\nare aware, there are not many plying in the streets of Venice at such an\nearly hour, it would be incumbent upon them to bespeak them beforehand.\nA few inquiries among the gondoliers elicited the information I wanted.\nThat point satisfactorily settled, the rest was easy.\"\n\n\"And you think we shall be there in time to prevent the meeting?\" I\nasked.\n\n\"We shall be at the rendezvous before they are,\" he answered. \"And I\nhave promised you they shall not fight.\"\n\nComforted by this reassuring news, I settled myself down to watch the\ntortuous thoroughfares through which we were passing. Presently we\npassed the church of St. Maria del Formosa, and later the Ducal Palace,\nthence out into the commencement of the Grand Canal itself. It was then\nthat Nikola urged the gondoliers, for we had two, to greater speed.\nUnder their powerful strokes the light little craft sped over the smooth\nbay, passed the island of St. Georgio Maggiore, and then turned almost\ndue south. Then I thought of Glenbarth, and wondered what his feelings\nwere at that moment. At last I began to have an inkling of our\ndestination. We were proceeding in the direction of the Lido, and it was\nupon the sandy beach that separates the lagoons and Venice from the open\nsea that the duel was to be fought. Presently we landed, and Nikola said\nsomething to the gondoliers, who turned their craft and moved slowly\naway. After walking along the sands for some distance, we hid ourselves\nat a place where it was possible to see the strip of beach, while we\nourselves remained hidden.\n\n\"They will not be here before another ten minutes,\" said Nikola,\nconsulting his watch; \"we had a good start of them.\"\n\nSeating ourselves we awaited their arrival, and while we did so, Nikola\ntalked of the value set upon human life by the inhabitants of different\ncountries. No one was more competent to speak on such a subject than he,\nfor he had seen it in every clime and in every phase. He spoke with a\nbitterness and a greater scorn for the petty vanities and aims of men\nthan I had ever noticed in him before. Suddenly he stopped, and looking\ntowards the left said--\n\n\"If I am not mistaken, the Duke of Glenbarth has arrived.\"\n\nI looked in the direction indicated, and was able to descry the tall\nfigure of the Duke coming along the sands. A little later two other\npersons made their appearance and followed him. One was undoubtedly the\nDon, but who was the third? As they drew closer, I discovered that he\nwas unknown to me; not so to Nikola, however.\n\n\"Burmaceda,\" he said to himself, and there was an ugly sneer upon his\nface.\n\nThe Duke bowed ceremoniously to the two men, and the stranger, having\nreturned his salute, knelt upon the sand, and proceeded to open a box\nhe had brought with him. From it he produced a pair of pistols which he\nloaded with ostentatious care. This work finished, he took them by their\nbarrels and gave Glenbarth his choice. The Spaniard, I noticed, was\ndressed entirely in black, not showing a particle of white; the Duke was\nattired very much as usual. When each had taken a pistol, the stranger\nmeasured the distance upon the sands and allotted them their respective\npositions. By this time I was in such a fever of excitement that Nikola\nlaid his hand upon my arm to restrain me.\n\n\"Wait,\" he whispered. \"Have I not pledged you my word that your friend\nshall not be hurt? Do not interrupt them yet. I have my suspicions, and\nam anxious to confirm them.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"'Put down your pistols,' said Nikola.\"]\n\nI accordingly waited, but though it was only for a few seconds it seemed\nto me an eternity. The two men were in position, and the stranger, I\ngathered, was giving them their final instructions. They were to stand\nwith their faces turned from each other, and at the word of command were\nto wheel round and fire. In a flash I saw what Nikola had in his mind.\nThe stranger was favouring the Don, for while Glenbarth would have\nfaithfully carried out his portion of the contract, the Spaniard did not\nturn at all, a fact which his opponent was scarcely likely to become\naware of, seeing that he would in all probability have a bullet in his\nheart before he would have had time to realize the trick that had been\nplayed upon him. The stranger had raised his hand above his head, and\nwas about to give the signal, when Nikola sprang from beside me, and in\na loud voice called to them to \"stop.\" I rose to my feet at the same\ninstant, and followed him across the sands to where the men stood.\n\n\"Put down your pistols, gentlemen,\" said Nikola in a voice that rang\nlike a trumpet-call. \"I forbid the duel. Your Grace, the challenge comes\nfrom you, I beg that you will apologize to Don Martinos for having sent\nit.\"\n\n\"I shall do nothing of the kind,\" the Duke returned.\n\nOn learning this Nikola took him on one side and talked earnestly with\nhim for a few minutes. Then, still with his hand upon the other's arm,\nhe led him back to where we were standing.\n\n\"I express my regret for having challenged you,\" said Glenbarth, but\nwith no good grace.\n\n\"I thank you, your Grace,\" said Nikola. Then turning to the Don, he went\non--\"And now, Don Martinos, I hope you will apologize to the Duke for\nthe insults that occasioned the challenge.\"\n\nWith an oath the Spaniard vowed that he was the last man to do anything\nof the kind. He had never apologized to any man in his life, and he was\nnot going to do so now, with more to the same effect. Then Nikola fixed\nhis glittering eyes upon him. His voice, however, when he spoke was as\nconciliatory as ever.\n\n\"To oblige _me_ you will do it,\" he said, and then drawing a little\ncloser to him he murmured something that we could not hear. The effect\nupon the Don was magical. His face turned a leaden hue, and for a moment\nI thought he would have fallen, but he recovered his self-possession\nwith an effort, and muttered the apology Nikola had demanded of him.\n\n\"I thank you, gentlemen,\" said Nikola. \"Now, with your permission, we\nwill return to the city.\" Here he wheeled round upon the stranger, and\ncontinued:--\"This is not the first of these little affairs in which you\nhave played a part. You have been warned before, profit by it, for the\ntime may come when it will be too late. Remember Pietro Sallomi.\"\n\nI do not know who Pietro Sallomi may have been, but I know that the mere\nmention of his name was sufficient to take all the swagger out of the\nstranger. He fell to pieces like a house of cards.\n\n\"Now, gentlemen, let us be moving,\" said Nikola, and taking the Don\nwith him he set off quickly in the direction of the spot where we had\ndisembarked from the gondola. I followed with the Duke.\n\n\"My dear boy,\" I said, as we walked along, \"why on earth did you do it?\nIs your life of so little value to yourself or to your friends, that you\ntry to throw it away in this reckless fashion?\"\n\n\"I am the most miserable brute on the face of the earth,\" he replied. \"I\nthink it would have been far better for me had I been shot back there.\"\n\n\"Look here, Glenbarth,\" I said with some anger, \"if you talk nonsense in\nthis manner, I shall begin to think that you are not accountable for\nyour actions. What on earth have you to be so unhappy about?\"\n\n\"You know very well,\" he answered gloomily.\n\n\"You are making yourself miserable because Miss Trevor will not marry\nyou,\" I said. \"You have not asked her, how therefore can you tell?\"\n\n\"But she seems to prefer Don Martinos,\" he went on.\n\n\"Fiddlesticks!\" I answered. \"I'm quite certain she hasn't thought of him\nin that way. Now, I am going to talk plainly to you. I have made up my\nmind that we leave to-day for Rome. We shall spend a fortnight there,\nand you should have a fair opportunity of putting the question to Miss\nTrevor. If you can't do it in that time, well, all I can say is, that\nyou are not the man I took you for. You must remember one thing,\nhowever: I'll have no more of this nonsense. It's all very well for a\nSpanish braggart to go swaggering about the world, endeavouring to put\nbullets into inoffensive people, but it's not the thing for an English\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dick. Try to forgive me. You won't tell Lady Hatteras, will\nyou?\"\n\n\"She knows it already,\" I answered. \"I don't fancy you would get much\nsympathy from her. Try for a moment to picture what their feelings would\nhave been--mine may be left out of the question--if you had been lying\ndead on the beach yonder. Think of your relations at home. What would\nthey have said and thought? And for what?\"\n\n\"Because he insulted me,\" Glenbarth replied. \"Was I to put up with\nthat?\"\n\n\"You should have treated him with the contempt he merited. But there, do\nnot let us discuss the matter any further. All's well that ends well;\nand I don't think we shall see much more of the Don.\"\n\nWhen we reached the gondolas Nikola took me aside.\n\n\"You had better return to the city with the Duke in one,\" he said; \"I\nwill take the Don back in another.\"\n\n\"And what about the other fellow?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Let him swim if he likes,\" said Nikola, with a shrug of his shoulders.\n\"By the way, I suppose you saw what took place back yonder?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Then say nothing about it,\" he replied. \"Such matters are best kept to\none's self.\"\n\nIt was a very sober-minded and reflective young man that sat down to\nbreakfast with us that morning. My wife, seeing how matters stood, laid\nherself out to be especially kind to him. So affable indeed was she,\nthat Miss Trevor regarded her with considerable surprise. During the\nmeal the journey to Rome was discussed, and it was decided that I should\ntelegraph for our old rooms, and that we should leave Venice at\nhalf-past two. This arrangement was duly carried out, and nightfall saw\nus well advanced on our journey to the capital. The journey is so well\nknown that I need not attempt to describe it here. Only one incident\nstruck me as remarkable about it. No sooner had we crossed the\nrailway-bridge that unites Venice with the mainland, than Miss Trevor's\nlethargy, if I may so describe it, suddenly left her. She seemed to be\nher old self instantly. It was as though she had at last thrown off the\nload under which she had so long been staggering. She laughed and joked\nwith my wife, teased her father, and was even inclined to be flippant\nwith the head of the family. After the events of the morning the effect\nupon the Duke was just what was wanted.\n\nIn due course we reached Rome, and installed ourselves at our old\nquarters in the Piazza Barberini. From that moment the time we had\nallowed ourselves sped by on lightning wings. We seemed scarcely to have\ngot there before it was time to go back to Venice. It was unfortunately\nnecessary for the Dean to return to England, at the end of our stay in\nRome, and though it was considerably out of his way, he proposed\njourneying thither by way of Venice. The change had certainly done his\ndaughter good. She was quite her old self once more, and the listless,\npreoccupied air that had taken such a hold upon her in Venice had\nentirely disappeared.\n\n\"Make the most of the Eternal City,\" my wife announced at dinner on the\neve of our departure, \"for to-morrow morning you will look your last\nupon it. The dragon who has us in his power has issued his decree, and,\nlike the laws of the Medes and Persians, it changeth not.\"\n\n\"A dragon?\" I answered. \"You should say the family scapegoat! I protest\nto you, my dear Dean, that it is most unfair. If it is some disagreeable\nduty to be performed, then it is by my order; if it is something that\nwill bestow happiness upon another, then it is my lady that gets the\ncredit.\"\n\n\"A very proper arrangement,\" said my wife, \"as I am sure the Dean will\nagree with me.\"\n\n\"I agree with you in everything,\" replied the polite old gentleman.\n\"Could I do otherwise?\"\n\n\"I appeal to the Duke, then. Is it your Grace's opinion that a husband\nshould of necessity take upon himself the properties of a dragon?\"\n\nEven that wretched young man would not stand by an old friend.\n\n\"I am not going to be drawn into an argument with you,\" he said. \"If\nLady Hatteras calls you a dragon, then a dragon you must remain until\nthe end of the chapter, so far as I am concerned.\"\n\n\"Phyllis is always right,\" answered Miss Trevor unblushingly.\n\n\"I give in,\" I said in mock despair. \"If you are all against me, I am\nundone.\"\n\nIt was a beautiful moonlight night when we rose from dinner, and it was\narranged that our last evening in Rome should be spent in a visit to\nthe Colosseum. A carriage was immediately ordered, and when the ladies\nhad wrapped themselves up warmly we set off. To those unfortunate\nindividuals who have not had an opportunity of visiting that ancient\nstructure, I can only justify my incompetency by saying that it would be\nwell-nigh impossible to furnish a description that would give them an\nadequate idea of the feeling of awe it inspires in one. By moonlight it\npresents a picture that for solemn grandeur is, to my thinking, without\nits equal in the world. Pompeii by moonlight suggests reflections. The\ngreat square of St. Mark's in Venice seen by the same mellow light is a\nsight never to be forgotten; but in my humble opinion the Colosseum\neclipses them all. We entered it and stood in the great ring looking up\nat the tiers of seats, and recalling its Past. The Dean was profoundly\nimpressed, and spoke of the men who had given up their lives in\nmartyrdom within those great walls.\n\n\"How many of the crowd gathered here to witness the agony of the\ntortured Christians,\" he said, \"believed that the very religion which\nthey so heartily despised was destined to sway the world, and to see the\nmighty Colosseum and the mightier Power that built it, a ruin? It is a\nwonderful thought.\"\n\nAfter the Dean's speech we crossed to a spot where a better view was\nobtainable. It was only then that we discovered that the Duke and Miss\nTrevor were not of our party. When, however, it was time to return they\nemerged from the shadow and followed us out. Both were unusually silent,\nand my wife, putting two and two together in her own fashion, came to\nthe conclusion that they had quarrelled. When, later on, the Duke and I\nwere alone together, and the ladies and the Dean had retired to their\nrespective rooms, I was about to take him to task when he stopped me.\n\n\"Dick, old man,\" he said with a solemnity that could not have been\ngreater had he been telling me of some great tragedy, \"I want you to\ngive me your congratulations. Miss Trevor has consented to become my\nwife.\"\n\nI was so surprised that I scarcely knew what to do or say.\n\n\"Good gracious, man!--then why are you so downcast?\" I replied. \"I had\nmade up my mind that she had refused you!\"\n\n\"I am far from being downcast,\" he said as solemnly as before. \"I am the\nhappiest man in the world. Can't you understand how I feel? Somehow--now\nthat it is over, and I have won her--it seems so great a thing that it\nalmost overwhelms me. You don't know, Dick, how proud I am that she\nshould have taken me!\"\n\n\"And so you ought to be,\" I said enthusiastically. \"You'll have a\nsplendid wife, and I know you'll make a good husband.\"\n\n\"I don't deserve it, Dick,\" he continued in humiliating self-abasement.\n\"She is too good for me, much too good.\"\n\n\"I remember that I said the same thing myself,\" I replied. \"Come to me\nin five years' time and let me hear what you have to say then.\"\n\n\"Confound you,\" he answered; \"why do you talk like that?\"\n\n\"Because it's the way of the world, my lad,\" I answered. \"But there,\nyou'll learn all for yourself soon enough. Now let me order a\nwhisky-and-potash for you, and then off you go to bed.\"\n\n\"A whisky-and-potash?\" he cried, with horror depicted on his face. \"Do\nyou think I'm going to drink whisky on the night that she has accepted\nme? You must be mad.\"\n\n\"Well, have your own way,\" I answered. \"For my own part, I have no such\nscruples. I have been married too long.\"\n\nI rang the bell, and, when my refreshment was brought to me, drank it\nslowly, as became a philosopher.\n\nIt would appear that Miss Trevor had already told my wife, for I was\ndestined to listen to a considerable amount of information concerning\nit before I was allowed to close my eyes that night.\n\n\"I always said that they were suited to each other,\" she observed. \"She\nwill make an ideal Duchess, and I think he may consider himself a very\nlucky fellow. What did he say about it?\"\n\n\"He admitted that he was not nearly good enough for her.\"\n\n\"That was nice of him. And what did you say?\"\n\n\"I told him to come to me in five years' time and let me hear what he\nhad to say then,\" I answered with a yawn.\n\nI had an idea that I should get into trouble over that remark, and I was\nnot mistaken. I was told that it was an unfeeling thing to have said,\nthat it was not the sort of idea to put into a young man's head at such\na time, and that if every one had such a good wife as some other people\nshe could name, they would have reason to thank their good fortune.\n\n\"If I am not mistaken, you told me you were not good enough for me when\nI accepted you,\" she retorted. \"What do you say now?\"\n\n\"Exactly what I said then,\" I answered diplomatically. \"I am not good\nenough for you. You should have married the Dean.\"\n\n\"Don't be absurd. The Dean is a dear old thing, but is old enough to be\nmy father.\"\n\n\"He will be Glenbarth's father-in-law directly,\" I said with a chuckle,\n\"and then that young man will have to drink his claret and listen to his\nsermons. In consideration of that I will forgive him all his sins\nagainst me.\"\n\nThen I fell asleep, to dream that I was a rival of St. George chasing a\ndragon over the seats of the Colosseum; to find, when I had run him to\nearth, that he had assumed human shape, and was no other than my old\nfriend the Dean of Bedminster.\n\nNext morning the young couple's behaviour at breakfast was\ncircumspection itself. The worthy old Dean ate his breakfast unconscious\nof the shell that was to be dropped into his camp an hour later, while\nmy wife purred approval over the teapot. Meanwhile I wondered what\nNikola would have to say when he heard of the engagement. After the meal\nwas over we left the Duke and Dean together. Somehow, I don't think\nGlenbarth was exactly at his ease, but when he reappeared half-an-hour\nlater and shook me by the hand, he vowed that the old gentleman was the\nbiggest trump in the world, and that I was the next. From this I\ngathered that the matter had been satisfactorily settled, and that, so\nfar as parental consent was concerned, Miss Gertrude Trevor was likely\nto become the Duchess of Glenbarth without any unnecessary delay.\nThough there was not much time to spare before our train started, there\nwas still sufficient for the lovers to make a journey to the Piazza di\nTrevi, where a magnificent diamond ring was purchased to celebrate the\nengagement. A bracelet that would have made any woman's mouth water was\nalso dedicated to the same purpose. A memorial bracelet on the Etruscan\nmodel was next purchased for my wife, and was handed to her later on by\nher grateful friends.\n\n\"You did so much for us,\" said the Duke simply, when Miss Trevor made\nthe presentation.\n\nMy lady thereupon kissed Miss Trevor and thanked the Duke, while I\nlooked on in amazement.\n\n\"Come, now,\" I said, \"I call that scarcely fair. Is the poor dragon to\nreceive nothing? I was under the impression that I had done more than\nany one to bring about this happy result.\"\n\n\"You shall have our gratitude,\" Miss Trevor replied. \"That would be so\nnice, wouldn't it?\"\n\n\"We'll see what the Duke says in five years,\" I answered, and with this\nParthian shot I left them.\n\nNext morning we reached Venice. The journey had been a very pleasant\none, but I must say that I was not sorry when it was over. The picture\nof two young lovers, gazing with devotion into each other's eyes hour\nafter hour, is apt to pall upon one. We had left Mestre behind us, and\nwere approaching the bridge I have described before as connecting Venice\nwith the mainland, when I noticed that Gertrude Trevor had suddenly\nbecome silent and preoccupied. She had a headache, she declared to my\nwife, but thought it would soon pass off. On reaching the\nrailway-station we chartered a barca to take us to our hotel. When we\nreached it, Galaghetti was on the steps to receive us. His honest face\nbeamed with satisfaction, and the compliments he paid my wife when she\nset foot upon the steps, were such as to cover her with confusion. I\ndirected my party to go up-stairs, and then drew the old man on one\nside.\n\n\"Don Jos\u00e8 de Martinos?\" I asked, knowing that it was sufficient merely\nto mention his name.\n\n\"He is gone, my lord,\" Galaghetti replied. \"Since he was a friend of\nyours, I am sorry I could keep him no longer. Perhaps your lordship does\nnot know that he has gambled all his money away, and that he has not\neven enough left to discharge his indebtedness to me.\"\n\n\"I certainly did not know it,\" I replied. \"And I am sorry to hear it.\nWhere is he now?\"\n\n\"I could not say,\" Galaghetti replied. \"But doubtless I could find out\nif your lordship desires to know.\"\n\n\"You need not do that,\" I answered. \"I merely asked out of curiosity.\nDon Martinos was no friend of mine.\"\n\nThen, bidding him good-day, I made my way up-stairs, turning over in my\nmind what I had heard. I was not at all surprised to hear that the Don\nhad come to grief, though I had not expected that the catastrophe would\nhappen in so short a time. It was satisfactory to know, however, that in\nall probability he would never trouble us again.\n\nThat afternoon, according to custom, we spent an hour at Florian's\n_caf\u00e9_. The Duke and Gertrude strolled up and down, while my wife drew\nmy attention to their happiness. I had on several occasions sang\nGlenbarth's praises to the Dean, and as a result the old gentleman was\ncharmed with his future son-in-law, and seemed to think that the summit\nof his ambition had been achieved. During our sojourn on the piazza I\nkept my eyes open, for I was in hopes of seeing Nikola, but I saw\nnothing of him. If I was not successful in that way, however, I was more\nso in another. I had found a budget of letters awaiting me on my return\nfrom Rome, and as two of them necessitated my sending telegrams to\nEngland, I allowed the rest of the party to return to hotel by boat,\nwhile I made my way to the telegraph-office. Having sent them off, I\nwalked on to the Rio del Barcaroli, engaged a gondola there, and was\nabout to step into it, when I became aware of a man watching me. He\nproved to be none other than the Spaniard, Don Martinos, but so great\nwas the change in him that for a moment I scarcely recognized him.\nThough only a fortnight had elapsed since I had last seen him, he had\nshrunk to what was only a shadow of his former self. His face was of a\npasty, fishy whiteness, and his eyes had a light in them that I had not\nseen there before. For the moment I thought he had been drinking, and\nthat his unnatural appearance was the result. Remembering his murderous\nintention on the morning of the frustrated duel, I felt inclined not to\nspeak to him. My pity, however, got the better of me, and I bade him\ngood-day. He did not return my salutation, however, but looked at me as\nif I were some one he had seen before, but could not remember where. I\nthen addressed him by name.\n\nIn reply he beckoned to me to follow him out of earshot of the\ngondolier.\n\n\"I cannot remember your name,\" he said, gripping me by the arm, \"but I\nknow that I have met you before. I cannot remember anything now\nbecause--because----\" Here he paused and put his hand to his forehead as\nif he were in pain. I endeavoured to make him understand who I was, but\nwithout success. He shook his head and looked at me, talking for a\nmoment in Italian, then in Spanish, with interludes of English. A more\npitiable condition for a man to get into could scarcely be imagined. At\nlast I tried him with a question I thought might have some effect upon\nhim.\n\n\"Have you met Doctor Nikola lately?\" I inquired.\n\nThe effect it produced upon him was instantaneous. He shrunk from me as\nif he had been struck, and, leaning against the wall of the house\nbehind him, trembled like an aspen leaf. For a man usually so\nself-assertive--one might almost say so aggressive--here was a terrible\nchange. I was more than ever at a loss to account for it. He was the\nlast man I should have thought would have been taken in such a way.\n\n\"Don't tell him; you must not tell him, promise me that you will not do\nso,\" he whispered in English. \"He would punish me if he knew,\nand--and----\" Here he fell to whimpering like a child who feared\nchastisement. It was not a pretty exhibition, and I was more shocked by\nit than I can say. At this juncture I remembered the fact that he was\nwithout means, and as my heart had been touched by his pathetic\ncondition, I was anxious to render him such assistance as was in my\npower. For this reason I endeavoured to press a loan upon him, telling\nhim that he could repay me when things brightened.\n\n\"No, no,\" he answered, with a flash of his old spirit; then he added in\na whisper, \"He would know of it!\"\n\n\"Who would know of it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Doctor Nikola,\" he answered. Then laying his hand upon my arm again,\nand placing his mouth close to my ear as if he were anxious to make sure\nthat no one else should hear, he went on, \"I would rather die of\nstarvation in the streets than fall into his hands. Look at me,\" he\ncontinued, after a moment's pause. \"Look what I am! I tell you he has\ngot me body and soul. I cannot escape from him. I have no will but his,\nand he is killing me inch by inch. I have tried to escape, but it is\nimpossible. If I were on the other side of the world and he wanted me I\nshould be obliged to come.\" Then with another change as swift as thought\nhe began to defy Nikola, vowing that he _would_ go away, and that\nnothing should ever induce him to see him again. But a moment later he\nwas back in his old condition once more.\n\n\"Farewell, Senor,\" he whispered. \"I must be going. There is no time to\nlose. He is awaiting me.\"\n\n\"But you have not told me where you are living now?\"\n\n\"Cannot you guess?\" he answered, still in the same curious voice. \"My\nhome is the Palace Revecce in the Rio del Consiglio.\"\n\nHere was surprise indeed! The Don had gone to live with Nikola. Was it\nkindness that had induced the latter to take him in? If not, what were\nhis reasons for so doing?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n\nAs may be supposed my meeting with the Don afforded me abundant food for\nreflection. Was it true, as he had said, that in his hour of distress\nNikola had afforded him an asylum? and if so, why was the latter doing\nso? I knew Nikola too well by this time to doubt that he had some good\nand sufficient reason for his action. Lurking at the back of my mind was\na hideous suspicion that, although I tried my hardest not to think of\nit, would not allow itself to be banished altogether. I could not but\nremember the story Nikola had told me on that eventful evening\nconcerning his early life, and the chance remark he had let fall one day\nthat he knew more about the man, Don Martinos, than I supposed, only\ntended to confirm it. If that were so, and he still cherished, as I had\nnot the least doubt he did--for Nikola was one who never forgave or\nforgot,--the same undying hatred and desire for vengeance against his\nold enemy, the son of his mother's betrayer, then there was--but here I\nwas compelled to stop. I could not go on. The death-like face of the\nman I had just left rose before my mind's eye like an accusing angel,\nwhereupon I made a resolution that I would think no more of him nor\nwould I say anything to any member of our party concerning my meeting\nwith him that afternoon. It is superfluous to remark that the latter\nresolve was more easily kept than the former.\n\nThe first dinner in Venice after our return was far from being a\nsuccess. Miss Gertrude's headache, instead of leaving her, had become so\nbad that she was compelled to go forthwith to bed, leaving Glenbarth in\ndespair, and the rest of our party as low-spirited as possible. Next\nmorning she declared she was a little better, though she complained of\nhaving passed a wretched night.\n\n\"I had such horrible dreams,\" she told my wife, \"that when I woke up I\nscarcely dared close my eyes again.\"\n\n\"I cannot remember quite what she said she dreamt,\" said Phyllis when\nshe told me the story; \"but I know that it had something to do with\nDoctor Nikola and his dreadful house, and that it frightened her\nterribly.\"\n\nThe girl certainly looked pale and haggard, and not a bit like the happy\ncreature who had stepped into the train at Rome.\n\n\"Heaven grant that there is not more trouble ahead,\" I said to myself,\nas I smoked my pipe and thought over the matter. \"I am beginning to wish\nwe had not come to Venice at all. In that case we should not have seen\nNikola or the Don, Miss Trevor would not have been in this state, and I\nshould not have been haunted day and night with this horrible suspicion\nof foul play.\"\n\nIt was no use, however, talking of what might or might not have\nhappened. It was sufficient that the things I have narrated _had_ come\nto pass, and I must endeavour to derive what satisfaction I could from\nthe reflection that I had done all that was possible under the\ncircumstances.\n\nOn the day following our return to Venice, the Dean of Bedminster set\noff for England. I fancy he was sorry to go, and of one thing I am quite\nsure, and that was that we regretted losing him. It was arranged that,\nas soon as we returned to England, we should pay him a visit at\nBedminster, and that the Duke should accompany us. Transparently honest\nthough he was in all things, I fancy the old gentleman had a touch of\nvanity in his composition, and I could quite understand that he would be\nanxious to show off his future son-in-law before the society of his\nquiet cathedral town.\n\nOn the night following his departure, I had the most terrible dream I\nhave had in my life. Though some time has elapsed since then, I can\nstill recall the fright it gave me. My wife declares that she could see\nthe effect of it upon my face for more than a day afterwards. But this,\nI think, is going a little too far. I am willing, however, to admit that\nit made a very great impression upon me at the time--the more so for the\nreason that it touched my thought, and I was quite at a loss to\nunderstand it. It was night, I remember, and I had just entered the\nPalace Revecce. I must have been invisible, for, though I stood in the\nroom with Nikola, he did not appear to be aware of my presence. As usual\nhe was at work upon some of his chemical experiments. Then I looked at\nhis face, and saw that it wore an expression that I had never seen there\nbefore. I can describe it best by saying that it was one of absolute\ncruelty, unrelieved by even the smallest gleam of pity. And yet it was\nnot cruelty in the accepted meaning of the word, so much as an\noverwhelming desire to punish and avenge. I am quite aware, on reading\nover what I have just written, that my inability to convey the exact\nimpression renders my meaning obscure. Yet I can do no more. It was a\nlook beyond the power of my pen to describe. Presently he put down the\nglass he held in his hand, and looked up with his head a little on one\nside, as if he were listening for some sound in the adjoining room.\nThere was a shuffling footstep in the corridor outside, and then the\ndoor opened and there entered a figure so awful that I shrank back from\nit appalled. It was Don Martinos, and yet it was not the Don. The face\nand the height were perhaps the same, but the man himself was--oh, so\ndifferent. On seeing Nikola he shambled forward, rather than walked, and\ndropped in a heap at his feet, clutching at his knees, and making a\nfeeble whining noise, not unlike that of an animal in pain.\n\n\"Get up,\" said Nikola sternly, and as he said it he pointed to a couch\non the further side of the room.\n\n[Illustration: \"He crawled upon the floor like a dog.\"]\n\nThe man went and stretched himself out upon it as if in obedience to\nsome unspoken command. Nikola followed him, and having exposed the\nother's chest, took from the table what looked like a hypodermic\nsyringe, filled it from one of the graduated glasses upon the table, and\ninjected the contents beneath the prostrate man's skin. An immediate and\nviolent fit of trembling was the result, followed by awful contortions\nof the face. Then suddenly he stiffened himself out and lay like one\ndead. Taking his watch from his pocket Nikola made a careful note of the\ntime. So vivid was my dream that I can even remember hearing the\nticking of the watch. Minute after minute went by, until at last the Don\nopened his eyes. Then I realized that the man was no longer a human\nbeing, but an animal. He uttered horrible noises in his throat, that\nwere not unlike the short, sharp bark of a wolf, and when Nikola bade\nhim move he crawled upon the floor like a dog. After that he retreated\nto a corner, where he crouched and glowered upon his master, as if he\nwere prepared at any moment to spring upon him and drag him down. As one\nthrows a bone to a dog so did Nikola toss him food. He devoured it\nravenously, as would a starving cur. There was foam at the corners of\nhis mouth, and the light of madness in his eyes. Nikola returned to the\ntable and began to pour some liquid into a glass. So busily occupied was\nhe, that he did not see the thing, I cannot call it a man, in the\ncorner, get on to his feet. He had taken up a small tube and was\nstirring the contents of the glass with it, when the other was less than\na couple of feet from him. I tried to warn him of his danger, only to\nfind that I could not utter a word. Then the object sprang upon him and\nclawed at his throat. He turned, and, a moment later, the madman was\nlying, whining feebly, upon the floor, and Nikola was wiping the blood\nfrom a scratch on the left-hand side of his throat. At that moment I\nawoke to find myself sitting up in bed, with the perspiration streaming\ndown my face.\n\n\"I have had such an awful dream!\" I said, in answer to my wife's\nstartled inquiry as to what was the matter. \"I don't know that I have\never been so frightened before.\"\n\n\"You are trembling now,\" said my wife. \"Try not to think of it, dear.\nRemember it was only a dream.\"\n\nThat it was something more than a mere dream I felt certain. It was so\ncomplete and dovetailed so exactly with my horrible suspicions that I\ncould not altogether consign it to the realms of fancy. Fearing a\nrepetition if I attempted to go to sleep again, I switched on the\nelectric light and endeavoured to interest myself in a book, but it was\nof no use. The face of the poor brute I had seen crouching in the corner\nhaunted me continually, and would not be dispelled. Never in my life\nbefore had I been so thankful to see the dawn. At breakfast my wife\ncommented upon my dream. Miss Trevor, however, said nothing. She became\nquieter and more distracted every day. Towards the evening Glenbarth\nspoke to me concerning her.\n\n\"I don't know what to make of it all,\" he said anxiously. \"She assures\nme that she is perfectly well and happy, but seeing the condition she is\nin, I can scarcely believe that. It is as much as I can do to get a word\nout of her. If I didn't know that she loves me I should begin to imagine\nthat she regretted having promised to be my wife.\"\n\n\"I don't think you need be afraid of that,\" I answered. \"One has only to\nlook at her face to see how deeply attached she is to you. The truth of\nthe whole matter is, my dear fellow, I have come to the conclusion that\nwe have had enough of Venice. Nikola is at the bottom of our troubles,\nand the sooner we see the last of him the better it will be for all\nparties concerned.\"\n\n\"Hear, hear, to that,\" he answered fervently. \"Deeply grateful though I\nam to him for what he did when Gertrude was ill, I can honestly say that\nI never want to see him again.\"\n\nAt luncheon that day I accordingly broached the subject of our return to\nEngland. It was received by my wife and the Duke with unfeigned\nsatisfaction, and by Miss Trevor with what appeared to be approval. It\nstruck me, however, that she did not seem so anxious to leave as I\nexpected she would be. This somewhat puzzled me, but I was not destined\nto remain very long in ignorance of the reason.\n\nThat afternoon I happened to be left alone with her for some little\ntime. We talked for a while on a variety of topics, but I could see all\nthe time that there was something she was desirous of saying to me,\nthough she could not quite make up her mind how to commence. At last she\nrose, and crossing the room took a chair by my side.\n\n\"Sir Richard, I am going to ask a favour of you,\" she said, with a\nfar-away look in her eyes.\n\n\"Let me assure you that it is granted before you ask it,\" I replied.\n\"Will you tell me what it is?\"\n\n\"It may appear strange to you,\" she said, \"but I have a conviction,\nabsurd, superstitious, or whatever you may term it, that some great\nmisfortune will befall me if I leave Venice just yet. I am not my own\nmistress, and must stay. I want you to arrange it.\"\n\nThis was a nice sort of shell to have dropped into one's camp,\nparticularly at such a time and under such circumstances, and I scarcely\nknew what reply to make.\n\n\"But what possible misfortune could befall you?\" I asked.\n\n\"I cannot say,\" she replied. \"I am only certain that I must remain for a\nlittle while longer. You can have no idea what I have suffered lately.\nBear with me, Sir Richard.\" Here she lifted a face of piteous entreaty\nto me, which I was powerless to resist, adding, \"I implore you not to be\nangry with me.\"\n\n\"Is it likely that I should be angry with you, Miss Gertrude?\" I\nreplied. \"Why should I be? If you really desire to remain for a little\nlonger there is nothing to prevent it. But you must not allow yourself\nto become ill again. Believe me it is only your imagination that is\nplaying tricks with you.\"\n\n\"Ah! you do not know everything,\" she answered. \"Every night I have such\nterrible dreams that I have come to dread going to bed.\"\n\nI thought of my own dream on the previous night, and could well\nunderstand how she felt. After her last remark she was silent for some\nmoments. That there was something still to come, I could see, but what\nit was I had no more idea than a child. At last she spoke.\n\n\"Sir Richard,\" she said, \"would you mind very much if I were to ask you\na most important question? I scarcely like to do so, but I know that you\nare my friend, and that you will give me good advice.\"\n\n\"I will endeavour to do so,\" I replied. \"What is the question you wish\nto ask me?\"\n\n\"It is about my engagement,\" she replied. \"You know how good and\nunselfish the Duke is, and how truly he believes in me. I could not\nbear to bring trouble upon him, but in love there should be no\nsecrets--nothing should be hidden one from the other. Yet I feel that I\nam hiding so much--can you understand what I mean?\"\n\n\"In a great measure,\" I answered, \"but I should like to do so\nthoroughly. Miss Gertrude, if I may hazard a guess, I should say that\nyou have been dreaming about Doctor Nikola again?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered after a moment's hesitation. \"Absurd though it may\nbe, I can think of no one else. He weighs upon my spirits like lead, and\nyet I know that I should be grateful to him for all he did for me when I\nwas so ill. But for him I should not be alive now.\"\n\n\"I am afraid that you have been allowing the thought of your recent\ndanger to lie too heavily upon your mind,\" I continued. \"Remember that\nthis is the nineteenth century, and that there are no such things as you\nthink Nikola would have you believe.\"\n\n\"When I know that there are?\" she asked, looking at me reproachfully.\n\"Ah, Sir Richard,\" she continued, \"if you knew all that I do you would\npity me. But no one will ever know, and I cannot tell them. But one\nthing is quite certain. I must stay in Venice for the present--happen\nwhat may. Something tells me so, day and night. And when I think of the\nDuke my heart well-nigh breaks for fear I should bring trouble upon\nhim.\"\n\nI did my best to comfort her; promised that if she really desired to\nremain in Venice I would arrange it for her, and by so doing committed\nmyself to a policy that I very well knew, when I came to consider it\nlater, was not expedient, and very far from being judicious. Regarded\nseriously in a sober commonplace light, the whole affair seems too\nabsurd, and yet at the time nothing could possibly have been more real\nor earnest. When she had heard me out, she thanked me very prettily for\nthe interest I had taken, and then with a little sigh, that went to my\nheart, left the room. Later in the afternoon I broke the news to my\nwife, and told her of the promise I had given Gertrude.\n\n\"But what does it all mean, Dick?\" she asked, looking at me with\nstartled eyes. \"What is it she fears will happen if she goes away from\nVenice?\"\n\n\"That is what I cannot get her to say,\" I replied. \"Indeed I am not\naltogether certain that she knows herself. It's a most perplexing\nbusiness, and I wish to goodness I had never had anything to do with it.\nThe better plan, I think, would be to humour her, keep her as cheerful\nas we can, and when the proper time arrives, get her away from Venice\nand home to England as quickly as we can.\"\n\nMy wife agreed with me on this point, and our course of action was\nthereupon settled.\n\nLater in the afternoon I made a resolution. My own suspicions concerning\nthe wretched Martinos were growing so intolerable that I could bear them\nno longer. The memory of the dream I had had on the previous night was\nnever absent from my thoughts, and I felt that unless I could set\nmatters right once and for all, and convince myself that they were not\nas I suspected with Anstruther's friend, I should be unable to close my\neyes when next I went to bed. For this reason I determined to set off to\nthe Palace Revecce at once, and to have an interview with Nikola in the\nhope of being able to extort some information from him.\n\n\"Perhaps after all,\" I argued, \"I am worrying myself unnecessarily.\nThere may be no connection between Martinos and that South American.\"\n\nI determined, however, to set the matter at rest that afternoon.\nAccordingly at four o'clock I made an excuse and departed for the Rio\ndel Consiglio.\n\nIt was a dark, cloudy afternoon, and the house, as I approached it,\nlooked drearier, if such a thing were possible, than I had ever seen\nit. I disembarked from my gondola at the steps, and having bade the man\nwait for me, which he did on the other side of the street, I rang the\nbell. The same old servant whom I remembered having seen on a previous\noccasion answered it, and informed me that his master was not at home,\nbut that he expected him every minute. I determined to wait for him and\nascended the stairs to his room. The windows were open, and from where I\nstood I could watch the gondolier placidly eating his bread and onions\non the other side of the street. So far as I could see there was no\nchange in the room itself. The centre table as usual was littered with\npapers and books, that near the window was covered with chemical\napparatus, while the old black cat was fast asleep upon the couch on the\nother side. The oriental rug, described in another place, covered the\nominous trap-door so that no portion of it could be seen. I was still\nstanding at the window looking down upon the canal below, when the door\nat the further end softly opened and a face looked in at me. Good\nheavens! I can even now feel the horror which swept over me. It was the\ncountenance of Don Martinos, but so changed, even from what it had been\nwhen I had seen him in the Rio del Barcaroli, that I scarcely recognized\nit. It was like the face of an animal and of a madman, if such could be\ncombined. He looked at me and then withdrew, closing the door behind\nhim, only to re-open it a few moments later. Having apparently made sure\nthat I was alone, he crept in, and, crossing the room, approached me.\nFor a moment I was at a loss how to act. I was not afraid that the poor\nwretch might do me any mischief, but my whole being shrank from him with\na physical revulsion beyond all description in words. I can understand\nnow something of the dislike my wife and the Duke declared they\nentertained for him. On tip-toe, with his finger to his lips, as if to\nenjoin silence, he crept towards me, muttering something in Spanish that\nI could not understand; then in English he continued--\n\n\"Hush, Senor, cannot you see them?\"\n\nHe pointed his hand in various directions as if he could see the figures\nof men and women moving about the apartment. Once he bowed low as if to\nsome imaginary dignitary, drawing back at the same time, as if to permit\nhim to pass. Then turning to me he continued, \"Do you know who that is?\nNo! Then I will tell you. Senor, that is the most noble Admiral Revecce,\nthe owner of this house.\"\n\nThen for a short time he stood silent, picking feebly at his fingers and\nregarding me ever and anon from the corner of his eye. Suddenly there\nwas a sharp quick step in the corridor outside, the handle of the door\nturned, and Nikola entered the room. As his glance fell upon the\nwretched being at my side a look not unlike that I had seen in my dream\nflashed into his countenance. It was gone again, however, as suddenly as\nit had come, and he was advancing to greet me with all his old\npoliteness. It was then that the folly of my errand was borne in upon\nme. Even if my suspicions were correct what could I do, and what chance\ncould I hope to have of being able to induce Nikola to confide in me?\nMeanwhile he had pointed to the door, and Martinos, trembling in every\nlimb, was slinking towards it like a whipped hound. At that moment I\nmade a discovery that I confess came near to depriving me of my presence\nof mind altogether. You can judge of its value for yourself when I say,\nthat extending to the lobe of Nikola's left ear half-way down and across\nhis throat was a newly-made scar, just such an one, in fact, as would be\nmade by a hand with sharp finger-nails clutching at it. Could my dream\nhave been true, after all?\n\n\"I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you, my dear Sir Richard,\"\nsaid Nikola as he seated himself. \"I understood that you had returned to\nVenice.\"\n\nHaving out-grown the desire to learn how Nikola had become aware of\nanything, I merely agreed that we had returned, and then took the chair\nhe offered me.\n\nWhen all the circumstances are taken into consideration, I really think\nthat that moment was certainly the most embarrassing of my life.\nNikola's eyes were fixed steadily upon mine, and I could see in them\nwhat was almost an expression of malicious amusement. As usual he was\nmaking capital out of my awkwardness, and as I knew that I could do no\ngood, I felt that there was nothing for it but for me to submit. Then\nthe miserable Spaniard's face rose before my mind's eye, and I felt that\nI could not abandon him, without an effort, to what I knew would be his\nfate. Nikola brought me up to the mark even quicker than I expected.\n\n\"It is very plain,\" he said, with a satirical smile playing round his\nthin lips, \"that you have come with the intention of saying something\nimportant to me. What is it?\"\n\nAt this I rose from my chair and went across the room to where he was\nsitting. Placing my hand upon his shoulder I looked down into his face,\ntook courage, and began.\n\n\"Doctor Nikola,\" I said, \"you and I have known each other for many years\nnow. We have seen some strange things together, one of us perhaps less\nwillingly than the other. But I venture to think, however, that we have\nnever stood on stranger or more dangerous ground than we do to-night.\"\n\n\"I am afraid I am scarcely able to follow your meaning,\" he replied.\n\nI knew that this was not the case, but I was equally convinced that to\nargue the question with him would be worse than useless.\n\n\"Do you remember the night on which you told me that story concerning\nthe woman who lived in this house, who was betrayed by the Spaniard, and\nwho died on that Spanish island?\" I asked.\n\nHe rose hurriedly from his chair and went to the window. I heard him\ncatch his breath, and knew that I had moved him at last.\n\n\"What of it?\" he inquired, turning on me sharply as he spoke.\n\n\"Only that I have come to see you concerning the _d\u00e9nouement_ of that\nstory,\" I answered. \"I have come because I cannot possibly stay away.\nYou have no idea how deeply I have been thinking over this matter. Do\nyou think I cannot see through it and read between the lines? You told\nit to me because in some inscrutable fashion of your own you had become\naware that Don Martinos would bring a letter of introduction to me from\nmy friend Anstruther. Remember it was I who introduced him to you! Do\nyou think that I did not notice the expression that came into your face\nwhenever you looked at him? Later my suspicions were aroused. The Don\nwas a Spaniard, he was rich, and he had made the mistake of admitting\nthat while he had been in Chili he had never been in Equinata. You\npersuaded me to bring him to this house, and here you obtained your\nfirst influence over him.\"\n\n\"My dear Hatteras,\" said Nikola, \"you are presupposing a great deal. And\nyou get beyond my depth. Don't you think it would be wiser if you were\nto stick to plain facts?\"\n\n\"My suppositions are stronger than my facts,\" I answered. \"You laid\nyourself out to meet him, and your influence over him became greater\nevery day. It could be seen in his face. He was fascinated, and could\nnot escape. Then he began to gamble, and found his money slipping\nthrough his fingers like water through a sieve.\"\n\n\"You have come to the conclusion, then, that I am responsible for that\nalso?\"\n\n\"I do not say that it was your doing exactly,\" I said, gathering courage\nfrom the calmness of his manner and the attention he was giving me. \"But\nit fits in too well with the whole scheme to free you entirely from\nresponsibility. Then look at the change that began to come over the man\nhimself. His faculties were leaving him one by one, being wiped out,\njust as a school-boy wipes his lesson from a slate. If he had been an\nold man I should have said that it was the commencement of his second\nchildhood; but he is still a comparatively young man.\"\n\n\"You forget that while he had been gambling he had also been drinking\nheavily. May not debauchery tell its own tale?\"\n\n\"It is not debauchery that has brought about this terrible change. Who\nknows that better than yourself? After the duel, which you\nprovidentially prevented, we went to Rome for a fortnight. On the\nafternoon of our return I met him near the telegraph-office. At first\nglance I scarcely recognized him, so terrible was the change in his\nappearance. If ever a poor wretch was on the verge of idiotcy he was\nthat one. Moreover, he informed me that he was living with you. Why\nshould the fact that he was so doing produce such a result? I cannot\nsay! I dare not try to understand it! But, for pity's sake, Nikola, by\nall you hold dear I implore you to solve the riddle. Last night I had a\ndream!\"\n\n\"You are perhaps a believer in dreams?\" he remarked very quietly, as if\nthe question scarcely interested him.\n\n\"This dream was of a description such as I have never had in my life\nbefore,\" I answered, disregarding the sneer, and then told it to him,\nincreasing rather than lessening the abominable details. He heard me out\nwithout moving a muscle of his face, and it was only when I had reached\nthe climax and paused that he spoke.\n\n\"This is a strange rigmarole you tell me,\" he said. \"Fortunately you\nconfess that it was only a dream.\"\n\n\"Doctor Nikola,\" I cried, \"it was more than a dream. To prove it, let me\nask you how you received that long scratch that shows upon your neck and\nthroat?\"\n\nI pointed my finger at it, but Nikola returned my gaze still without a\nflicker of his eyelids.\n\n\"What if I do admit it?\" he began. \"What if your dream were correct?\nWhat difference would it make?\"\n\nI looked at him in amazement. To tell the truth I was more astonished by\nhis admission of the correctness of my suspicions than I should have\nbeen had he denied them altogether. As it was, I was too much overcome\nto be able to answer him for a few moments.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, \"answer my question. What if I do admit the truth of\nall you say?\"\n\n\"You confess then that the whole business has been one long scheme to\nentrap this wretched man, and to get him into your power?\"\n\n\"'Tis,\" he answered, still keeping his eyes fixed upon me. \"You see I am\ncandid! Go on!\"\n\nMy brain began to reel under the strain placed upon it. Since he had\nowned to it, what was I to do? What could I say?\n\n\"Sir Richard Hatteras,\" said Nikola, approaching a little nearer to me,\nresting one hand upon the table and speaking very impressively, \"I\nwonder if it has struck you that you are a brave man to come to me\nto-day and to say this to me? In the whole circle of the men I know I\nmay declare with truth that I am not aware of one other who would do so\nmuch. What is this man to you that you should befriend him? He would\nhave robbed you of your dearest friend without a second thought, as he\nwould rob you of your wife if the idea occurred to him. He is without\nbowels of compassion; the blood of thousands stains his hands and cries\naloud for vengeance. He is a fugitive from justice, a thief, a liar, and\na traitor to the country he swore to govern as an honest man. On a\ncertain little island on the other side of the world there is a lonely\nchurchyard, and in that churchyard a still lonelier grave. In it lies\nthe body of a woman--my mother. In this very room that woman was\nbetrayed by his father. So in this room also shall that betrayal be\navenged. I have waited all my life; the opportunity has been long in\ncoming. Now, however, it has arrived, and I am decreed by Fate to be the\ninstrument of Vengeance!\"\n\nI am a tall man, but as he said this Nikola seemed to tower over me, his\nface set hard as a rock, his eyes blazing like living coals, and his\nvoice trembling under the influence of his passion. Little by little I\nwas growing to think as he did, and to look upon Martinos as he saw him.\n\n\"But this cannot go--it cannot go on,\" I repeated, in a last feeble\nprotest against the horror of the thing. \"Surely you could not find it\nin your heart to treat a fellow-creature so?\"\n\n\"He is no fellow-creature of yours or mine,\" Nikola retorted sternly, as\nif he were rebuking a childish mistake. \"Would you call the man who shot\ndown those innocent young men of Equinata, before their mothers' eyes, a\nfellow-creature? Is it possible that the son of the man who so cruelly\nwronged and betrayed the trusting woman he first saw in this room, who\nled her across the seas to desert her, and to send her to her grave,\ncould be called a man? I will give you one more instance of his\nbarbarity.\"\n\nSo saying, he threw off the black velvet coat he was wearing, and\ndrawing up his right shirt-sleeve, bade me examine his arm. I saw that\nfrom the shoulder to the elbow it was covered with the scars of old\nwounds, strange white marks, in pairs, and each about half-an-inch long.\n\n\"Those scars,\" he went on, \"were made by his orders, and with hot\npincers, when I was a boy. And as his negro servants made them he\nlaughed and taunted me with my mother's shame. No! No! This is no\nman--rather a dangerous animal, that were best out of the way. It has\nbeen told me that you and I shall only meet twice more. Let those\nmeetings lead you to think better of me. The time is not far distant\nwhen I must leave the world! When that hour arrives there is a lonely\nmonastery in a range of eastern mountains, upon which no Englishman has\never set his foot. Of that monastery I shall become an inmate. No one\noutside its walls will ever look upon my face again. There I shall work\nout my Destiny, and, if I have sinned, be sure I shall receive my\npunishment at those hands that alone can bestow it. Now leave me!\"\n\nGod help me for the coward I am, but the fact remains that I left him\nwithout another word.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\nIf I were offered my heart's desire in return for so doing, I could not\ntell you how I got home after my interview with Nikola at the Palace\nRevecce. I was unconscious of everything save that I had gone to\nNikola's house in the hope of being able to save the life of a man, whom\nI had the best of reasons for hating, and that at the last moment I had\nturned coward and fled the field. No humiliation could have been more\ncomplete. Nikola had won a victory, and I knew it, and despaired of\nretrieving it. On reaching the hotel I was about to disembark from my\ngondola, when a voice hailed me from another craft, proceeding in the\ndirection I had come.\n\n\"Dick Hatteras, as I'm a sinner!\" it cried. \"Don't you know me, Dick?\"\n\nI turned to see a face I well remembered smiling at me from the gondola.\nI immediately bade my own man put me out into the stream, which he did,\nand presently the two gondolas lay side by side. The man who had hailed\nme was none other than George Beckworth, a Queensland sugar-planter,\nwith whom I had been on terms of the most intimate friendship in bygone\ndays. And as there was a lady seated beside him, I derived the\nimpression that he had married since I had last seen him.\n\n\"This is indeed a surprise,\" he said, as we shook hands. \"By the way,\nlet me introduce you to my wife, Dick.\" He said this with all the pride\nof a newly-married man. \"My dear, this is my old friend, Dick Hatteras,\nof whom I have so often spoken to you. What are you doing in Venice,\nDick?\"\n\n\"I have my wife and some friends travelling with me,\" I answered. \"We\nare staying at Galaghetti's hotel yonder. Cannot you and your wife dine\nwith us to-night?\"\n\n\"Impossible, I am afraid,\" he answered. \"We sail to-night in the P. and\nO. boat. Won't you come and dine with us?\"\n\n\"That is equally impossible,\" I replied. \"We have friends with us. But I\nshould like to see something more of you before you go, and if you will\nallow me I'll run down after dinner for a chat about old times.\"\n\n\"I shall be delighted,\" he answered. \"Be sure that you do not forget\nit.\"\n\nHaving assured him that I would not permit it to escape my memory, I\nbade him \"good-bye,\" and then returned to my hotel. A more fortunate\nmeeting could scarcely have occurred, for now I was furnished with an\nexcellent excuse for leaving my party, and for being alone for a time.\nOnce more I felt that I was a coward for not daring to face my\nfellow-men. Under the circumstances, however, I knew that it was\nimpossible. I could no more have spent the evening listening to\nGlenbarth's happy laughter than I could have jumped the Grand Canal. For\nthe time being the society of my fellow-creatures was absolutely\ndistasteful to me. On ascending to my rooms I discovered my wife and the\nDuke in the drawing-room, and was informed by the latter that Miss\nTrevor had again been compelled to retire to her room with a severe\nheadache.\n\n\"In that case I am afraid you will only be a small party for dinner,\" I\nsaid. \"I am going to ask you to excuse me. You have often heard me\nspeak, my dear, of George Beckworth, the Queensland sugar-planter, with\nwhom I used to be on such friendly terms in the old days?\"\n\nMy wife admitted that she remembered hearing me speak of the gentleman\nin question.\n\n\"Well, he is in Venice,\" I replied, \"and he sails to-night by the P. and\nO. boat for Colombo. As it is the last time I shall be likely to see\nhim for many years, I feel sure you will not mind my accepting his\ninvitation?\"\n\n\"Of course not, if the Duke will excuse you,\" she said, and, when the\nquestion was put to him, Glenbarth willingly consented to do so.\n\nI accordingly went to my room to make my toilet. Then, having bade my\nwife \"good-bye,\" I chartered a gondola and ordered the man to row me to\nthe piazza of Saint Mark. Thence I set off for a walk through the city,\ncaring little in which way I went. It was growing dark by this time, and\nI knew there was little chance of my being recognized, or of my\nrecognizing any one else. All the time, however, my memory was haunted\nby the recollection of that room at the Palace Revecce, and of what was\nin all probability going on in it. My gorge rose at the idea--all my\nmanhood revolted from it. A loathing of Nikola, such as I had never\nknown before, was succeeded by a deathly chill, as I realized how\nimpotent I was to avert the catastrophe. What could I do? To have\nattempted to stay him in his course would have been worse than useless,\nwhile to have appealed to the Authorities would only have had the effect\nof putting myself in direct opposition to him, and who knew what would\nhappen then? I looked at it from another point of view. Why should I be\nso anxious to interfere on the wretched Spaniard's behalf? I had seen\nhis murderous intention on the morning of the frustrated duel; I had\nheard from Nikola of the assassination of those unfortunate lads in\nEquinata; moreover, I was well aware that he was a thief, and also a\ntraitor to his country. Why should he not be punished as he deserved,\nand why should not Nikola be his executioner? I endeavoured to convince\nmyself that this was only fit and proper retribution, but this argument\nwas no more successful than the last had been.\n\nArguing in this way I walked on and on, turning to right or left, just\nas the fancy took me. Presently I found myself in a portion of the town\ninto which I had never hitherto penetrated. At the moment of which I am\nabout to write, I was standing in a narrow lane, paved with large\nstones, having high dismal houses on either hand. Suddenly an old man\nturned the corner and approached me. As he passed, I saw his face, and\nrecognized an individual to whom Nikola had spoken in the little church\non that memorable evening when he had taken us on a tour of inspection\nthrough the city. He was visibly agitated, and was moreover in hot\nhaste. For some reason that I cannot explain, nor, I suppose, shall I\never be able to do so, an intense desire to follow him took possession\nof me. It must have been more than a desire, for I felt that I must go\nwith him whether I wished to or not. I accordingly dived into the house\nafter him, and followed him along the passage and up the rickety flight\nof stairs that ascended from it. Having attained one floor we continued\nour ascent; the sounds of voices reached us from the different rooms,\nbut we saw no one. On the second landing the old man paused before a\ndoor, opened it very softly, and entered. I followed him, and looked\nabout me. It was a pathetic scene that met my eyes. The room was a poor\none, and scantily furnished. A rough table and a narrow bed were its\nonly furniture. On the latter a young man was lying, and kneeling on the\nfloor beside him, holding the thin hands in his own, was no less a\nperson than Doctor Nikola himself. I saw that he was aware of my\npresence, but he took no more notice of me than if I had not existed.\n\n\"You called me too late, my poor Antonio,\" he said, addressing the old\nman I had followed. \"Nothing can save him now. He was dying when I\narrived.\"\n\nOn hearing this the old man fell on his knees beside the bed and burst\ninto a flood of weeping. Nikola placed his hand with a kindly gesture\nupon the other's shoulder, and at the moment that he did so the man upon\nthe bed expired.\n\n\"Do not grieve for him, my friend,\" said Nikola. \"Believe me, it was\nhopeless from the first. He is better as it is.\"\n\nThen, with all the gentleness of a woman, he proceeded to comfort the\nold man, whose only son lay dead upon the bed. I knew no more of the\nstory than what I had seen, nor have I heard more of it since, but I had\nbeen permitted to see another side of his character, and one which, in\nthe light of existing circumstances, was not to be denied. He had\nscarcely finished his kindly offices before there was a heavy step\noutside, and a black-browed priest entered the room. He looked from\nNikola to myself, and then at the dead man upon the bed.\n\n\"Farewell, my good Antonio,\" said Nikola. \"Have no fear. Remember that\nyour future is my care.\"\n\nThen, having said something in an undertone to the priest, he placed his\nhand upon my arm and led me from the room. When we had left them he\nmurmured in a voice not unlike that in which he had addressed the old\nman, \"Hatteras, this is another lesson. Is it so difficult to learn?\"\n\nI do not pretend that I made any answer. We passed down the stairs\ntogether, and, when we reached the street, stood for a moment at the\nhouse-door.\n\n\"You will not be able to understand me,\" he said; \"nevertheless, I tell\nyou that the end is brought nearer by that one scene. It will not be\nlong before it comes now. All things considered, I do not know that I\nshall regret it.\"\n\nThen, without another word, he strode away into the darkness, leaving me\nto place what construction I pleased upon his last speech. For some\nmoments I stood where he had left me, pondering over his words, and then\nset off in the direction I had come. As may be imagined, I felt even\nless inclined than before for the happy, jovial party I knew I should\nfind on board the steamer, but I had given my promise, and could not get\nout of it. When I reached the piazza of St. Mark once more I went to the\nsteps and hailed a gondola, telling the man to take me to the P. and O.\nvessel then lying at anchor in the harbour. He did so, and I made my way\nup the accommodation-ladder to the deck above, to find that the\npassengers in the first saloon had just finished their dinner, and were\nmaking their appearance on the promenade deck. I inquired of the steward\nfor Mr. Beckworth, and discovered him in the act of lighting a cigar at\nthe smoking-room door.\n\nHe greeted me effusively, and begged me to remain where I was while he\nwent in search of his wife. When she arrived, I found her to be a pretty\nlittle woman, with big brown eyes, and a sympathetic manner. She was\ngood enough to say that she had heard such a lot concerning me from her\nhusband, and had always looked forward to making my acquaintance. I\naccepted a cigar from Beckworth's case, and we then adjourned to the\nsmoking-room for a long talk together. When we had comfortably installed\nourselves, my friend's flow of conversation commenced, and I was made\naware of all the principal events that had occurred in Queensland since\nmy departure, was favoured with his opinion of England, which he had\nnever before visited, and was furnished with the details as to how he\nhad met his wife, and of the happy event with which their courtship had\nbeen concluded.\n\n\"Altogether,\" he said, \"taking one thing with another, I don't know that\nyou'd be able to find a much happier fellow in the world than I am at\nthis moment.\"\n\nI said I was glad to hear it, and as I did so contrasted his breezy,\nhappy-go-lucky manner with those of certain other people I had been\nbrought in contact with that day. My interview with him must have done\nme good, for I stayed on, and the hour was consequently late when I left\nthe ship. Indeed, it wanted only a few minutes of eleven o'clock as I\nwent down the accommodation-ladder to the gondola, which I had ordered\nto come for me at ten.\n\n\"Galaghetti's hotel,\" I said to the man, \"and as quickly as you can.\"\n\nWhen I had bade my friends \"good-bye\" and left the ship, I felt\ncomparatively cheerful, but no sooner had the silence of Venice closed\nin upon me again than all my old despondency returned to me. A\nforeboding of coming misfortune settled upon me, and do what I would I\ncould not shake it off.\n\nWhen I reached the hotel I found that my party had retired to rest. My\nwife was sleeping quietly, and not feeling inclined for bed, and\ndreading lest if I did go I might be assailed by more dreams of a\nsimilar description to that I had had on the previous night, I resolved\nto go back to the drawing-room and read there for a time. This plan I\ncarried into execution, and taking up a new book in which I was very\nmuch interested, seated myself in an easy-chair and determined to peruse\nit. I found some difficulty, however, in concentrating my attention upon\nit. My thoughts continually reverted to my interview that afternoon with\nNikola, and also to the scene I had witnessed in the poorer quarter\nafter dark. I suppose eventually I must have fallen asleep, for I\nremember nothing else until I awoke to find myself sitting up and\nlistening to a light step in the corridor outside. I looked at my watch\nto discover that the time was exactly a quarter to one. In that case,\nas we monopolized the whole of the corridor, who could it be? In order\nto find out I went to the door, and softly opened it. A dim light was\nalways left in the passage throughout the night, and by it I was able to\nsee a tall and graceful figure, which I instantly recognized, making for\nthe secondary stairs at the further end. Now these stairs, so I had been\ngiven to understand, led to another portion of the hotel into which I\nhad never penetrated. Why, therefore, Miss Trevor was using them at such\nan hour, and, above all, dressed for going out, I could not for the life\nof me determine. I could see that, if I was anxious to find out, I must\nbe quick; so, turning swiftly into the room again, I picked up my hat\nand set off in pursuit. As the sequel will prove, it was, perhaps, as\nwell that I did so.\n\nBy the time I reached the top of the stairs she was at the bottom, and\nwas speeding along another passage to the right. At the end of this was\na door, the fastenings of which she undid, with an ease and assurance\nthat bewildered me. So certain was she of her whereabouts, and so easily\ndid she manipulate the heavy door, that I felt inclined to believe that\nshe must have used that passage many times before. At last she opened it\nand passed out into the darkness, drawing it to after her. I had paused\nto watch her; now I hastened on even faster than before, fearing that,\nif I were not careful, I might lose her outside. Having passed the door\nI found myself in a narrow lane, bounded on either side by high walls,\nand some fifty or sixty yards in extent. The lane, in its turn, opened\ninto a small square, out of which led two or three other narrow streets.\nShe turned to the left and passed down one of these; I followed close\nupon her heels. Of all the strange experiences to which our stay in\nVenice had given rise, this was certainly one of the most remarkable.\nThat Gertrude Trevor, the honest English girl, the daughter of a\ndignitary of the Church and a prospective bishop, should leave her hotel\nin the middle of the night in order to wander about streets with which\nshe was most imperfectly acquainted, was a mystery I found difficult to\nsolve. When she had crossed a bridge, which spanned a small canal, she\nonce more turned to the left, passed along the footway before a\ndilapidated palace, and then entered a narrow passage on the right. The\nbuildings hereabouts were all large, and, as a natural consequence, the\nstreets were so dark that I had some difficulty in keeping her in sight.\nAs a matter of fact she had stopped, and I was almost upon her before I\nbecame aware of it. Even then she did not seem to realize my presence.\nShe was standing before a small door, which she was endeavouring to\npush open. At last she succeeded, and without hesitation began to\ndescend some steps inside. Once more I took up the chase, though where\nwe were, and what we were going to do there, I had not the least idea.\nThe small yard in which we found ourselves was stone-paved, and for this\nreason I wondered that she did not hear my footsteps. It is certain,\nhowever, that she did not, for she made for a door I could just discern\non the opposite side to that by which we had entered, without turning\nher head. It was at this point that I began to wish I had brought a\nrevolver or some weapon with me. When she was about to open the door I\nhave just mentioned, I called her softly by name, and implored her to\nwait for me, but still she took no notice. Could she be a somnambulist?\nI asked myself. But if this were so, why had she chosen this particular\nhouse? Having passed the door we stood in a second and larger courtyard,\nand it was then that the whole mystery became apparent to me. _The house\nto which I had followed her was the Palace Revecce, and she was on her\nway to Nikola!_ But for what reason? Was this a trick of Nikola's, or\nhad her terrible dreams taken such a hold upon her that she was not\nresponsible for her actions? Either alternative was bad enough. Pausing\nfor a moment in the courtyard beside the well, she turned quickly to\nher right hand and began to ascend the stairs towards that awful room,\nwhich, so far as I knew, she had never visited before. When she reached\nit I scarcely knew how to act. Should I enter behind her and accuse\nNikola of having enticed her there, or should I wait outside and\noverhear what transpired between them? At last I made up my mind to\nadopt the latter course, and, when she had entered, I accordingly\nremained outside and waited for her. Through the half-open door I could\nsee Nikola, stooping over what looked like a microscope at a side-table.\nHe looked up as Miss Trevor entered, and uttered a cry of surprise. As I\nheard this a sigh of relief escaped me, for his action proved to me that\nher visit had not been anticipated.\n\n\"Miss Trevor!\" he said, moving forward to greet her, \"what does this\nmean? How did you get here?\"\n\n\"I have come to you,\" she faltered, \"because I could not remain away. I\nhave come to you that I may beg of you that wretched man's life. Doctor\nNikola, I implore you to spare him!\"\n\n\"My dear young lady,\" said Nikola, with a softness in his voice that\nreminded me of that I had heard in the death-chamber a few hours before,\n\"you cannot understand what you are doing. You must let me take you\nback to your friends. You should not be here at this hour of the night.\"\n\n\"But I was bound to come--don't I tell you I could not remain away?\nSpare him! Oh! for God's sake, spare him!\"\n\n\"You do not know what you are asking. You are not yourself to-night.\"\n\n\"I only know that I am thinking of you,\" she answered. \"You must not do\nit! You are so great, so powerful, that you can afford to forgive. Take\nmy life rather than harm him. I will yield it gladly to save you from\nthis sin.\"\n\n\"To--save--me,\" I heard him mutter to himself. \"She would save me!\"\n\n\"God would never forgive,\" she continued, still in the same dreamy\nvoice.\n\nHe moved away from her, and from where I stood I could see how agitated\nhe was. For some moments she knelt, looking up at him, with arms\noutstretched in supplication; then he said something to her in a low\nvoice, which I could not catch. Her answer, however, was plain to me.\n\n\"Yes, I have known it always in my dreams,\" she said.\n\n\"And knowing that, you would still wish me to pardon him?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"She knelt, with arms outstretched, in supplication.\"]\n\n\"In the name of God I would urge you to do so,\" she answered. \"The\nsafety of your soul depends upon it.\"\n\nOnce more Nikola turned away and paced the room.\n\n\"Are you aware that Sir Richard Hatteras was here on the same errand\nthis afternoon?\" he asked.\n\n\"I know it,\" she replied, though how she could have done so I could not\nconceive, nor have I been able to do so since.\n\n\"And does he know that you have come to me now asking me to forgive?\"\n\n\"He knows it,\" she answered, as before. \"He followed me here.\"\n\nAs she had never looked behind her, how had she known this also?\n\nThen Nikola approached the door and threw it open.\n\n\"Come in, Hatteras,\" he said. \"Your presence is discovered.\"\n\n\"For heaven's sake, Nikola, tell me what this means,\" I cried, seeing\nthat the girl did not turn towards me. \"Is she asleep, or have you\nbrought your diabolical influence upon her?\"\n\n\"She is not asleep, and yet she is not conscious of her actions,\" he\nanswered. \"There is something in this that passes our philosophy. Had I\nany idea that she contemplated such a thing, I would have used every\neffort to prevent it. Miss Trevor, believe me, you must go home with\nSir Richard,\" he continued, tenderly raising the girl to her feet as he\nspoke.\n\n\"I cannot go until you have sworn to forgive,\" was her reply.\n\n\"I must have time to think,\" he answered. \"In the morning you will know\neverything. Trust me until then, and remember always that while Nikola\nlives he will be grateful.\"\n\nThen he assisted me to conduct her down-stairs, and across the two\ncourtyards, to the little postern door through which we had entered the\npalace.\n\n\"Have no fear for her,\" he said, addressing me. \"She will go home as she\ncame. And in the morning she will remember nothing of what has\ntranspired.\"\n\nThen taking her hand in his he raised it to his lips, and a moment later\nhad bade me farewell, and had vanished into the palace once more.\n\nAs I tracked her from the hotel, so I followed her back to it again. I\nwas none the less anxious, however. If only Nikola would abandon his\npurpose, and release his enemy, her action and my anxiety would not be\nin vain. But would he do so, and in the event of his doing this, would\nhis prophecy that Miss Trevor would, in the morning, remember nothing of\nwhat had transpired, prove true?\n\nTurning, twisting as before, we proceeded on our way. My chief fear was\nthat the door through which we had made our exit would be found to be\nshut on our return. Happily, however, this did not prove to be the case.\nI saw Miss Trevor enter, and then swiftly followed her. She hastened\ndown the passage, ascended the stairs, passed along the corridor, and\nmade her way to her own room. As soon as I had made certain that she was\nsafely there, I went on to my own dressing-room, and on entering my\nwife's apartment had the good fortune to find her still asleep. I was\nstill more thankful in the morning when I discovered she had not missed\nme, and being satisfied on this point, I decided to say nothing\nwhatsoever concerning our adventure.\n\nMiss Trevor was the last to put in an appearance at breakfast, and, as\nyou may suppose, I scanned her face with some anxiety. She looked pale\nand worn, but it was evident from her manner when she greeted me, that\nshe had not the least idea what she had done during the night. Nikola's\npromise had proved to be true, and for that reason I was more determined\nthan ever to keep my information to myself. Events could not have turned\nout more fortunately for all parties concerned.\n\nShortly after breakfast a letter was handed to me, and, glancing at the\nwriting, I saw that it was from Nikola. I was alone at the time of\nreceiving it, a fact for which I was grateful. I will leave you to\nimagine with what impatience I opened it. It was short, and merely\ncontained a request that I would call at the Palace Revecce before noon\nthat day, if I could spare the hour. I decided to do so, and I reached\nthe palace twenty minutes or so before the appointed time. The old\nservitor, who by this time had become familiar with my face, opened the\ndoor and permitted me to enter. I inquired if Doctor Nikola were at\nhome, and to my surprise was informed that he was not.\n\n\"Perhaps your Excellency would like to see the other Senor?\" the old man\nasked, pointing up the stairs.\n\nI was about to decline this invitation with all possible haste, when a\nvoice I recognized as that of the Don greeted me from the gallery above.\n\n\"Won't you come up-stairs, Sir Richard?\" it said. \"I have a letter for\nyou, from my friend, Doctor Nikola!\"\n\nI could scarcely believe the evidence of my eyes and ears, and when I\nreached the room of which I had such terrible recollections, my surprise\nwas intensified rather than lessened. Martinos had undergone a complete\nmetamorphosis. In outward appearance he was no longer the same person,\nwho only the day before had filled me with such terrible repulsions. If\nsuch a thing could be believed, he was more like his old self--as I had\nfirst seen him.\n\n\"Where is Doctor Nikola?\" I inquired, when I had looked round the room\nand noticed the absence of the chemical paraphernalia, the multitude of\nbooks, and the general change in it.\n\n\"He went away early this morning,\" the Don replied. \"He left a letter\nfor you, and requested me to give it you as soon as you should call. I\nhave much pleasure in doing so now.\"\n\nI took it and placed it almost mechanically in my pocket.\n\n\"Are you aware when he will return?\" I asked.\n\n\"He will never do so,\" Martinos replied. \"I heard the old man below\nwailing this morning, because he had lost the best master he had ever\nhad.\"\n\n\"And you?\"\n\n\"I am ruined, as you know,\" he said, without any reference to his\nillness, \"but the good doctor has been good enough to place twenty\nthousand lira to my credit, and I shall go elsewhere and attempt to\ndouble it.\"\n\nHe must have been much better, for he smiled in the old deceitful way as\nhe said this. Remembering what I knew of him, I turned from the man in\ndisgust, and bidding him good-day, left the room which I hoped never to\nsee again as long as I might live. In the courtyard I encountered the\nold caretaker once more.\n\n\"So the Senor Nikola has gone away never to return?\" I said.\n\n\"That is so, Senor,\" said the old man with a heavy sigh. \"He has left me\na rich man, but I do not like to think that I shall never see him\nagain.\"\n\nSitting down upon the edge of the well I took from my pocket the letter\nthe Don had handed me.\n\n     \"Farewell, friend Hatteras,\" it began. \"By the time you receive\n     this I shall have left Venice, never more to set foot in it. We\n     shall not meet again. I go to the Fate which claims me, and of\n     which I told you. Think of me sometimes, and, if it be possible,\n     with kindness,\n\n     \"NIKOLA.\"\n\nI rose and moved towards the door, placing a gold piece in the old man's\nhand as I passed him. Then, with a last look at the courtyard, I went\ndown the steps and took my place in the gondola, with a feeling of\nsadness in my heart for the sad Destiny of the most wonderful man I had\never known.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n\nNext day, much to Galaghetti's sorrow, we suddenly brought our stay in\nVenice to a conclusion, and set off for Paris. The Queen of the Adriatic\nhad lost her charm for us, and for once in our lives we were not sorry\nto say good-bye to her. The train left the station, crossed the bridge\nto the mainland, and was presently speeding on her way across Europe.\nEver since the morning Miss Trevor's spirits had been steadily\nimproving. She seemed to have become her old self in a few hours, and\nGlenbarth's delight was beautiful to witness. He had been through a good\ndeal, poor fellow, and deserved some recompense for it. We had been\nupwards of an hour upon our way, when my wife made a curious remark.\n\n\"Good gracious!\" she said, \"in our hurry to get away we have quite\nforgotten to say good-bye to Doctor Nikola!\"\n\nI saw Miss Trevor give a little shudder.\n\n\"Do you know,\" she said, \"I had such a curious dream about him last\nnight. I dreamt that I saw him standing in the courtyard of a great\nbuilding on a mountain-side. He was dressed in a strange sort of yellow\ngown, not unlike that worn by the Buddhist priests, and was worn almost\nto a shadow and looked very old. He approached me, and taking my hands,\nsaid something that, in the commonplace light of day, doesn't seem to\nhave much sense in it. But I know it affected me very much at the time.\"\n\n\"What was it?\" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.\n\n\"It was this,\" she answered--\"'_Remember that I have forgiven; it is for\nyou to forget._' What could he have meant?\"\n\n\"Since it is only a dream, it is impossible to say,\" observed my wife,\nand thus saved me the danger of attempting a solution.\n\nTo bring my long narrative to a conclusion I might say that the Duke and\nMiss Trevor were married last May. They spent their honeymoon yachting\nto the West Indies. Some one proposed that they should visit Venice;\nindeed, the Earl of Sellingbourne, who had lately purchased the Palace\nRevecce, and had furnished it, by the way, from the Tottenham Court\nRoad, placed it at their disposal. From what I have been told I gather\nthat he was somewhat ill-pleased because his offer was not accepted.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the wind howls round the house at night and the world seems very\nlonely, I sometimes try to picture a monastery on a mountain-side, and\nthen, in my fancy, I see a yellow-robed, mysterious figure, whose dark,\nsearching eyes look into mine with a light that is no longer of this\nworld. To him I cry--\n\n\"FAREWELL, NIKOLA!\"\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\n  RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,\n  LONDON & BUNGAY.\n\n\n\n\nNovels by Guy Boothby.\n\nSPECIAL AND ORIGINAL DESIGNS.\n\nEach volume attractively Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood and others.\n\n_Crown 8vo_, _Cloth Gilt_, _Trimmed Edges_, =5s.=\n\n  =Mr. Rudyard Kipling says=: \"Mr. GUY BOOTHBY has come to great\n     honours now. His name is large upon hoardings, his books sell like\n     hot cakes, and he keeps a level head through it all. I've met him\n     several times in England, and he added to my already large respect\n     for him.\"\n\n     FAREWELL, NIKOLA!\n\n     SHEILAH McLEOD\n\n     MY INDIAN QUEEN\n\n     LONG LIVE THE KING!\n\n     A SAILOR'S BRIDE\n\n     A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS\n\n     A MAKER OF NATIONS\n\n     THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER\n\n     LOVE MADE MANIFEST\n\n     PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN\n\n     ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE\n\n     THE LUST OF HATE\n\n     BUSHIGRAMS\n\n     THE FASCINATION OF THE KING\n\n     DR. NIKOLA\n\n     THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL\n\n     A BID FOR FORTUNE; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta\n\n     IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas\n\n     THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits Sketch\n\n\nLONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.\n\n\n\n\n_NEW COMPLETE LIBRARY EDITION_\n\nOF\n\nG. J. 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AMBROSE WALTON\n\n  11 =Riding Recollections.=      Illustrated by JOHN CARLTON\n\n  12 =The Brookes of Bridlemere.=      Illustrated by S. E. WALLER\n\n  13 =Satanella.=      Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH\n\n  14 =Holmby House.=      Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH\n\n  15 =The White Rose.=      Illustrated by S. E. WALLER\n\n  16 =Tilbury Nogo.=      Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD\n\n  17 =Uncle John.=      Illustrated by S. E. WALLER\n\n  18 =Contraband.=      Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD\n\n  19 =M. or N.=      Illustrated by ADOLF THIEDE\n\n  20 =The Queen's Maries.=      Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH\n\n  21 =General Bounce.=      Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN\n\n  22 =Digby Grand.=      Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON\n\n  23 =The Interpreter.=      Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH\n\n  24 =Good for Nothing.=      Illustrated by G. P. JACOMB HOOD\n\n  25 =Bones and I.=      Illustrated by A. 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BARNARD DAVIS.\n\n  =THE SCARLET WOMAN.= Illustrated by SYDNEY COWELL.\n\n  =THE BIRTHRIGHT.= Illustrated by HAROLD PIFFARD.\n\n  =MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH.= Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.\n\n  =FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by J.\n     BARNARD DAVIS.\n\n  =ALL MEN ARE LIARS.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON\n     BROWNE.\n\n  =ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by\n     W. S. STACEY.\n\n  =THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by\n     GEO. HUTCHINSON.\n\n  =AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE?= Illustrated by LANCELOT SPEED.\n\n  =JABEZ EASTERBROOK.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by STANLEY L.\n     WOOD.\n\n  =WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.= With Frontispiece and Vignette.\n\n  =ZILLAH.= With Frontispiece by POWELL CHASE.\n\n  =THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S.\n     STACEY.\n\n\nLONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.\n\n\n\n\nYou cannot beat the Best.\n\nTHE\n\nWINDSOR\n\nMAGAZINE\n\n... Always contains the ...\n\nBEST WORK BY THE\n      ... BEST AUTHORS ...\n            AND BEST ARTISTS.\n\nIt has eclipsed every other Sixpenny Magazine, and has achieved the most\nBrilliant Success of the day.\n\n\n   Holds the Record\n     for giving the =Best Serial Story of the Year=.\n\n   Holds the Record\n     for giving =Splendid Exclusive Articles= by recognised specialists.\n\n   Holds the Record\n     for being the =Most Varied=, the =Most Entertaining=, and the =Most\n     Instructive= of Magazines.\n\nThe \"Times\" calls it \"Wonderful.\"\n\n\nLONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:\n\nInconsistencies in the author's spelling, use of hyphens and other\npunctuation have been retained as in the original publication.\n\nObvious typos and printer errors have been corrected without comment.\n\nIllustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph break.","title":"'Farewell, Nikola'","tradition":"ritual-magic","translated_text":null,"word_count":70500}