<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></SPAN>CHAPTER VII</h2>
<p>"You surely are not going to dine with
Doctor Nikola in that strange house?" said
my wife, when we were alone together that
night. "After what the Duke has told us,
I wonder that you can be so foolish."</p>
<p>"My dear girl," I answered, "I don't see
the force of your argument. I shan't be the
first who has eaten a meal in the house in
question, and I don't suppose I shall be the last.
What do you think will happen to me? Do
you think that we have returned to the times
of the Borgias, and that Nikola will poison us?
No, I am looking forward to a very enjoyable
and instructive evening."</p>
<p>"While we are sitting at home, wondering
if the table is disappearing bodily into the
vaults and taking you with it, or whether
Nikola is charging the side-dishes with some of
his abominable chemistry, by which you will
be put to sleep for three months, or otherwise
experimenting upon you in the interests of what<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span>
he calls Science. I don't think it is at all kind
of you to go."</p>
<p>"Dear girl," I answered, "are you not a little
unreasonable? Knowing that de Martinos has
but lately arrived in Venice, also that he is a
friend of ours—for did he not meet him when in
our company?—it is only natural that Nikola
should desire to show him some courtesy. In
spite of its decay, the Palace Revecce is an
exceedingly beautiful building, and when he
heard that Martinos would like to visit it, he
invited him to dinner. What could be more
natural? This is the nineteenth century!"</p>
<p>"I am sure I don't mind what century it is,"
she replied. "Still I adhere to what I said just
now. I am sorry you are going."</p>
<p>"In that case I am sorry also," I answered,
"but as the matter stands I fail to see how I can
get out of it. I could not let the Duke and
Martinos go alone, so what can I do?"</p>
<p>"I suppose you will have to go," she replied
ruefully. "I have a presentiment, however,
that trouble will result from it."</p>
<p>With that the subject was dropped, and it
was not until the following morning, when I
was smoking with Glenbarth after breakfast,
that it cropped up again.</p>
<p>"Look here, Dick," said my companion then.
"What about this dinner at Nikola's house to-<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span>night?
You seemed to be very keen on going last
night; are you of the same mind this morning?"</p>
<p>"Why not?" I answered. "My wife does
not like the notion, but I am looking forward to
seeing Nikola play the host. The last time I
dined with him, you must remember, was in
Port Said, and then the banquet could scarcely
be described as a pleasant one. What is more,
I am anxious to see what effect Nikola and his
house will produce upon our friend the Don."</p>
<p>"I wish he'd get rid of him altogether," my
companion replied. "I dislike the fellow more
and more every time I see him."</p>
<p>"Why should you? He does you no harm!"</p>
<p>"It's not that," said Glenbarth. "My dislike
to him is instinctive; just as one shudders
when one looks into the face of a snake, or as
one is repelled by a toad or a rat. In spite of
his present apparent respectability, I should
not be at all surprised to hear that at some
period of his career he had committed murders
innumerable."</p>
<p>"Nonsense, nonsense," I replied, "you must
not imagine such things as that. You were
jealous when you first saw him, because you
thought he was going to come between you and
Miss Trevor. You have never been able to
overcome the feeling, and this continued dislike
is the result. You must fight against it. Doubt<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span>less,
when you have seen more of him, you will
like him better."</p>
<p>"I shall never like him better than I do now,"
he answered, with conviction. "As they say in
the plays, 'my gorge rises at him!' If you saw
him in the light I do, you would not let Lady
Hatteras——"</p>
<p>"My dear fellow," I began, rising from my
chair and interrupting him, "this is theatrical
and very ridiculous, and I assume the right of
an old friend to tell you so. If you prefer not
to go to-night, I'll make some excuse for you,
but don't, for goodness' sake, go and make things
unpleasant for us all while you're there."</p>
<p>"I have no desire to do so," he replied stiffly.
"What is more, I am not going to let you go
alone. Write your letter and accept for us
both. Bother Nikola and Martinos as well,
I wish they were both on the other side of the
world."</p>
<p>I thereupon wrote a note to Nikola accepting,
on Glenbarth's behalf and my own, his invitation
to dinner for that evening. Then I dismissed
the matter from my mind for the time being.
An hour or so later my wife came to me with a
serious face.</p>
<p>"I am afraid, Dick, that there is something
the matter with Gertrude," she said. "She has
gone to her room to lie down, complaining of a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span>
very bad headache and a numbness in all her
limbs. I have done what I can for her, but if
she does not get better by lunch-time, I think I
shall send for a doctor."</p>
<p>As, by lunch-time, she was no better, the
services of an English doctor were called in.
His report to my wife was certainly a puzzling
one. He declared he could discover nothing the
matter with the girl, nor anything to account
for the mysterious symptoms.</p>
<p>"Is she usually of an excitable disposition?"
he inquired, when we discussed the matter
together in the drawing-room.</p>
<p>"Not in the least," I replied. "I should say
she is what might be called a very evenly-dispositioned
woman."</p>
<p>He asked one or two other questions and then
took leave of us, promising to call again next
day.</p>
<p>"I cannot understand it at all," said my wife
when he had gone; "Gertrude seemed so well
last night. Now she lies upon her bed and
complains of this continued pain in her head
and the numbness in all her limbs. Her hands
and feet are as cold as ice, and her face is as
white as a sheet of note-paper."</p>
<p>During the afternoon Miss Trevor determined
to get up, only to be compelled to return to
bed again. Her headache had left her, but the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</SPAN></span>
strange numbness still remained. She seemed
incapable, so my wife informed me, of using her
limbs. The effect upon the Duke may be better
imagined than described. His face was the
picture of desolation, and his anxiety was all
the greater inasmuch as he was precluded from
giving vent to it in speech. I am afraid that,
at this period of his life, the young gentleman's
temper was by no means as placid as we were
accustomed to consider it. He was given to
flaring up without the slightest warning, and
to looking upon himself and his own little world
in a light that was very far removed from
cheerful. Realizing that we could do no good
at home, I took him out in the afternoon, and
was given to understand that I was quite without
heart, because, when we had been an hour
abroad, I refused to return to the hotel.</p>
<p>"I wonder if there is anything that Miss
Trevor would like," he said, as we crossed the
piazza of Saint Mark. "It could be sent up to
her, you know, in your name."</p>
<p>"You might send her some flowers," I
answered. "You could then send them from
yourself."</p>
<p>"By Jove, that's the very thing. You do
have some good ideas sometimes."</p>
<p>"Thank you," I said quietly. "Approbation
from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise indeed."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Bother your silly quotations!" he retorted.
"Let's get back to that flower-shop."</p>
<p>We did so, and thereupon that reckless youth
spent upon flowers what would have kept me
in cigars for a month. Having paid for them
and given orders that they should be sent to
the Hotel Galaghetti at once, we left the shop.
When we stood outside, I had to answer all
sorts of questions as to whether I thought she
would like them, whether it would not have
been better to have chosen more of one sort
than another, and whether the scent would not
be too strong for a sick-room. After that he
felt doubtful whether the shopkeeper would send
them in time, and felt half inclined to return
in order to impress this fact upon the man. Let
it be counted to me for righteousness that I
bore with him patiently, remembering my own
feeling at a similar stage in my career. When
we reached the hotel on our return, we discovered
that the patient was somewhat better.
She had had a short sleep, and it had refreshed
her. My wife was going to sit with her during
the evening, and knowing this, I felt that we
might go out with clear consciences.</p>
<p>At a quarter to seven we retired to our rooms
to dress, and at a quarter past the hour were
ready to start. When we reached the hall, we
found the Don awaiting us there. He was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span>
dressed with the greatest care, and presented a
not unhandsome figure. He shook hands cordially
with me and bowed to Glenbarth, who had
made no sign of offering him his hand. Previous
to setting out, I had extorted from that young
man his promise that he would behave with
courtesy towards the other during the evening.</p>
<p>"You can't expect me to treat the fellow as a
friend," he had said in reply, "but I will give
you my word that I'll be civil to him—if that's
what you want."</p>
<p>And with this assurance I was perforce compelled
to be content.</p>
<p>Having taken our places in the gondola which
was waiting for us, we set off.</p>
<p>"I had the pleasure of seeing Doctor Nikola
this morning," said Martinos, as we turned into
the Rio del Consiglio. "He did me the honour
of calling upon me."</p>
<p>I gave a start of surprise on hearing this.</p>
<p>"Indeed," I replied. "And at what hour was
that?"</p>
<p>"Exactly at eleven o'clock," the Don answered.
"I remember the time because I was in the act
of going out, and we encountered each other in
the hall."</p>
<p>Now it is a singular thing, a coincidence if you
like, but it was almost on the stroke of eleven
that Miss Trevor had been seized with her<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span>
mysterious illness. At a quarter past the hour
she felt so poorly as to be compelled to retire to
her room. Of course there could be no connection
between the two affairs, but it was certainly a
coincidence of a nature calculated to afford me
ample food for reflection. A few moments later
the gondola drew up at the steps of the Palace
Revecce. Almost at the same instant the door
opened and we entered the house. The courtyard
had been lighted in preparation for our
coming, and, following the man who had admitted
us, we ascended the stone staircase to the
corridor above. Though not so dismal as when
I had last seen it, lighted only by Nikola's
lantern, it was still sufficiently awesome to create
a decided impression upon the Don.</p>
<p>"You were certainly not wrong when you
described it as a lonely building," he said, as we
passed along the corridor to Nikola's room.</p>
<p>As he said this the door opened, and Nikola
stood before us. He shook hands with the Duke
first, afterwards with the Don, and then with
myself.</p>
<p>"Let me offer you a hearty welcome," he
began. "Pray enter."</p>
<p>We followed him into the room I have already
described, and the door was closed behind us.
It was in this apartment that I had expected we
should dine, but I discovered that this was not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span>
to be the case. The tables were still littered with
papers, books, and scientific apparatus, just as
when I had last seen it. Glenbarth seated himself
in a chair by the window, but I noticed that
his eyes wandered continually to the oriental
rug upon the floor by the fireplace. He was
doubtless thinking of the vaults below, and, as
I could easily imagine, wishing himself anywhere
else than where he was. The black cat, Apollyon,
which was curled up in an arm-chair, regarded
us for a few seconds with attentive eyes, as
if to make sure of our identities, and then
returned to his slumbers. The windows were
open, I remember, and the moon was just
rising above the house-tops opposite. I had
just gone to the casement, and was looking
down upon the still waters below, when the
tapestry of the wall on the right hand was
drawn aside by the man who had admitted us to
the house, who informed Nikola in Italian that
dinner was upon the table.</p>
<p>"In that case let us go in to it," said our host.
"Perhaps your Grace will be kind enough to lead
the way."</p>
<p>Glenbarth did as he was requested, and we
followed him, to find ourselves in a large, handsome
apartment, which had once been richly
frescoed, but was now, like the rest of the palace,
sadly fallen to decay. In the centre of the room<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</SPAN></span>
was a small oval table, well illuminated by a
silver lamp, which diffused a soft light upon the
board, the remainder of the room being in heavy
shadow. The decorations, the napery, and the
glass and silver, were, as I could see at one
glance, unique. Three men-servants awaited
our coming, though where they hailed from and
how Nikola had induced them to enter the
palace, I could not understand. Nikola, as our
host, occupied one end of the table; Glenbarth,
being the principal guest of the evening, was given
the chair on his left; the Don took that on the
right, while I faced him at the further end.
How, or by whom, the dinner was cooked was
another mystery. Nikola had told us on the
occasion of our first visit, that he possessed no
servants, and that such cooking as he required
was done for him by an old man who came in
once every day. Yet the dinner he gave us on
this particular occasion was worthy of the finest
<i>chef</i> in Europe. It was perfect in every particular.
Though Nikola scarcely touched anything,
he did the honours of his table royally,
and with a grace that was quite in keeping with
the situation. Had my wife and Miss Trevor
been present, they might, for all the terrors they
had anticipated for us, very well have imagined
themselves in the dining-room of some old
English country mansion, waited upon by the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</SPAN></span>
family butler, and taken in to dinner by the
Bishop and Rural Dean. The Nikola I had seen
when I had last visited the house was as distant
from our present host as if he had never existed.
When I looked at him, I could scarcely believe
that he had ever been anything else but the
most delightful man of my acquaintance.</p>
<p>"As a great traveller, Don Josè," he said,
addressing the guest on his right hand, "you
have of course dined in a great number of
countries, and I expect under a variety of startling
circumstances. Now tell me, what is your
most pleasant recollection of a meal?"</p>
<p>"That which I managed to obtain after the
fall of Valparaiso," said Martinos. "We had
been without food for two days, that is to say,
without a decent meal, when I chanced upon a
house where breakfast had been abandoned without
being touched. I can see it now. Ye gods!
it was delightful. And not the less so because
the old rascal we were after had managed to
make his escape."</p>
<p>"You were in opposition to Balmaceda, then?"
said Nikola quietly.</p>
<p>Martinos paused for a moment before he
answered.</p>
<p>"Yes, against Balmaceda," he replied. "I
wonder whether the old villain really died, and
if so what became of his money."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"That is a question one would like to have
settled concerning a good many people," Glenbarth
put in.</p>
<p>"There was that man up in the Central States,
the Republic of—ah! what was its name?—Equinata,"
said Nikola. "I don't know whether
you remember the story."</p>
<p>"Do you mean the fellow who shot those
unfortunate young men?" I asked. "The man
you were telling me of the other night."</p>
<p>"The same," Nikola replied. "Well, he
managed to fly his country, taking with him
something like two million dollars. From that
moment he has never been heard of, and as a
matter of fact I do not suppose he ever will be.
After all, luck has a great deal to do with things
in this world."</p>
<p>"Permit me to pour out a libation to the God
of Chance," said Martinos. "He has served me
well."</p>
<p>"I think we can all subscribe to that," said
Nikola. "You, Sir Richard, would not be the
happy man you are had it not been for a stroke
of good fortune which shipwrecked you on one
island in the Pacific instead of another. You,
my dear Duke, would certainly have been
drowned in Bournemouth Bay had not our
friend Hatteras chanced to be an early riser,
and to have taken a certain cruise before break<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</SPAN></span>fast;
while you, Don Martinos, would in all probability
not be my guest to-night had not——"</p>
<p>The Spaniard looked sharply at him as if he
feared what he was about to hear.</p>
<p>"Had not what happened?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Had President Balmaceda won his day,"
was the quiet reply. "He did not do so, however,
and so we four sit here to-night. Certainly,
a libation to the God of Chance."</p>
<p>At last the dinner came to an end, and the
servants withdrew, having placed the wine upon
the table. The conversation drifted from one
subject to another until it reached the history of
the palace in which we were then the guests.
For the Spaniard's information Nikola related
it in detail. He did not lay any particular
emphasis upon it, however, as he had done upon
the story he had told the Duke and myself concerning
the room in which he had received
us. He merely narrated it in a matter-of-fact
way, as if it were one in which he was only
remotely interested. Yet I could not help thinking
that he fixed his eyes more keenly than
usual on the Spaniard, who sat sipping his wine
and listening with an expression of polite attention
upon his sallow face. When the wine had
been circulated for the last time, Nikola suggested
that we should leave the dining-room
and return to his own sitting-room.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I do not feel at home in this room," he said
by way of explanation; "for that reason I never
use it. I usually partake of such food as I need
in the next, and allow the rest of the house to
fall undisturbed into that decay which you see
about you."</p>
<p>With that we rose from the table and returned
to the room in which he had received us. A
box of cigars was produced and handed round;
Nikola made coffee with his own hands at a
table in the corner, and then I awaited the further
developments that I knew would come.
Presently Nikola began to speak of the history
of Venice. As I had already had good reason to
know, he had made a perfect study of it, particularly
of the part played in it by the Revecce
family. He dealt with particular emphasis upon
the betrayal through the Lion's Mouth, and
then, with an apology to Glenbarth and myself
for boring us with it again, referred to the
tragedy of the vaults below the room in which
we were then seated. Once more he drew back
the carpet and the murderous trap-door opened.
A cold draught, suggestive of unspeakable horrors,
came up to us.</p>
<p>"And there the starving wretch died with the
moans of the woman he loved sounding in his
ears from the room above," said Nikola. "Does
it not seem that you can hear them now? For<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</SPAN></span>
my part, I think they will echo through all
eternity."</p>
<p>If he had been an actor what a wonderful
tragedian he would have made! As he stood
before us pointing down into the abyss he held
us spell-bound. As for Martinos, all the
accumulated superstition of the centuries
seemed to be concentrated in him, and he
watched Nikola's face as if he were fascinated
beyond the power of movement.</p>
<p>"Come," Nikola began at last, closing the
trap-door and placing the rug upon it as he
spoke, "you have heard the history of the
house. You shall now do more than that!
You shall see it!"</p>
<p>Fixing his eyes upon us he made two or three
passes in the air with his long white hands.
Meanwhile, it seemed to me as if he were looking
into my brain. I tried to avert my eyes, but
without success. They were chained to his
face, and I could not remove them. Then
an overwhelming feeling of drowsiness took possession
of me, and I must have lost consciousness,
for I have no recollection of anything
until I found myself in a place I thought for
a moment I had never seen before. And
yet after a time I recognized it. It was a
bright day in the early spring, the fresh breeze
coming over the islands from the open sea was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</SPAN></span>
rippling the water of the lagoons. I looked at
my surroundings. I was in Venice, and yet it
was not the Venice with which I was familiar.
I was standing with Nikola upon the steps of
a house, the building of which was well-nigh
completed. It was a magnificent edifice,
and I could easily understand the pride of
the owner as he stood in his gondola and surveyed
it from the stretch of open water opposite.
He was a tall and handsome man, and wore a
doublet and hose, shoes with large bows, and a
cloak trimmed with fur. There was also a chain
of gold suspended round his neck. Beside him
was a man whom I rightly guessed to be the
architect, for presently the taller man placed his
hand upon his shoulder and praised him for the
work he had done, vowing that it was admirable.
Then, at a signal, the gondolier gave a stroke
of his oar and the little vessel shot across to the
steps, where they landed close to where I was
standing. I stepped back in order that they
might pass, but they took no sort of notice of
my presence. Passing on, they entered the
house.</p>
<p>"They do not see us," said Nikola, who was
beside me. "Let us enter and hear what the
famous Admiral Francesco del Revecce thinks of
his property."</p>
<p>We accordingly did so to find ourselves in a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</SPAN></span>
magnificent courtyard. In the centre of this
courtyard was a well, upon which a carver
in stone was putting the finishing touches to a
design of leaves and fruit. From here led a
staircase, and this we ascended. In the different
rooms artists were to be observed at work upon
the walls, depicting sea-fights, episodes in the
history of the Republic, and of the famous master
of the house. Before each the owner paused,
bestowing approval, giving advice, or suggesting
such alteration or improvement as he considered
needful. In his company we visited the kitchens,
the pantler's offices, and penetrated even to the
dungeons below the water-level. Then we once
more ascended to the courtyard, and stood at the
great doors while the owner took his departure
in his barge, pleased beyond measure with his
new abode. Then the scene changed.</p>
<p>Once more I stood before the house with Nikola.
It was night, but it was not dark, for great
cressets flared on either side of the door, and a
hundred torches helped to illuminate the scene.
All the Great World of Venice was making its
way to the Palace Revecce that night. The first
of the series of gorgeous <i>fêtes</i> given to celebrate
the nuptials of Francesco del Revecce, the most
famous sailor of the Republic, who had twice
defeated the French fleet, and who had that
day married the daughter of the Duke of Levano,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span>
was in progress. The bridegroom was still comparatively
young, he was also rich and powerful;
the bride was one of the greatest heiresses of
Venice, besides being one of its fairest daughters.
Their new home was as beautiful as money and
the taste of the period could make it. Small
wonder was it, therefore, that the world hastened
to pay court to them.</p>
<p>"Let us once more enter and look about us,"
said Nikola.</p>
<p>"One moment," I answered, drawing him back
a step as he was in the act of coming into collision
with a beautiful girl who had just disembarked
from her gondola upon the arm of a grey-haired
man.</p>
<p>"You need have no fear," he replied. "You
forget that we are Spirits in a Spirit World, and
that they are not conscious of our presence."</p>
<p>And indeed this appeared to be the case, for
no one recognized us, and more than once I saw
people approach Nikola, and, scarcely believable
though it may seem, walk through him without
being the least aware of the fact.</p>
<p>On this occasion the great courtyard was
brilliantly illuminated. Scores of beautiful
figures were ascending the stairs continually, while
strains of music sounded from the rooms above.</p>
<p>"Let us ascend," said Nikola, "and see the
pageant there."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was indeed a sumptuous entertainment, and
when we entered the great reception-rooms,
no fairer scene could have been witnessed in
Venice. I looked upon the bridegroom and
his bride, and recognized the former as being
the man I had seen praising the architect on
the skill he had displayed in the building of the
palace. He was more bravely attired now, however,
than on that occasion, and did the honours
of his house with the ease and assurance of one
accustomed to uphold the dignity of his name and
position in the world. His bride was a beautiful
girl, with a pale, sweet face, and eyes that
haunted one long after they had looked at them.
She was doing her best to appear happy before
her guests, but in my own heart I knew that such
was not the case. Knowing what was before her,
I realized something of the misery that was
weighing so heavily upon her heart. Surrounding
her were the proudest citizens of the proudest
Republic of all time. There was not one who did
not do her honour, and among the women who
were her guests that night, how many were
there who envied her good fortune? Then the
scene once more changed.</p>
<p>This time the room was that with which I was
best acquainted, the same in which Nikola had
taken up his abode. The frescoes upon the walls
and ceilings were barely dry, and Revecce was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span>
at sea again, opposing his old enemy the French,
who once more threatened an attack upon the
city. It was towards evening, and the red glow
of the sunset shone upon a woman's face, as
she stood beside the table at which a man was
writing. I at once recognized her as Revecce's
bride. The man himself was young and handsome,
and when he looked up at the woman
and smiled, the love-light shone in her eyes,
as it had not done when she had looked upon
Revecce. There was no need for Nikola to tell
me that he was Andrea Bunopelli, the artist to
whose skill the room owed its paintings.</p>
<p>"Art thou sure 'twill be safe, love?" asked
the woman in a low voice, as she placed her hand
upon his shoulder. "Remember 'tis death to
bring a false accusation against a citizen of the
Republic, and 'twill be worse when 'tis against
the great Revecce."</p>
<p>"I have borne that in mind," the man answered.
"But there is nought to fear, dear love. The
writing will not be suspected, and I will drop
it in the Lion's Mouth myself,—and then?"</p>
<p>Her only answer was to bend over him and
kiss him. He scattered the sand upon the letter
he had written, and when it was dry, folded it up
and placed it in his bosom. Then he kissed the
woman once more and prepared to leave the room.
The whole scene was so real that I could have<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span>
sworn that he saw me as I stood watching
him.</p>
<p>"Do not linger," she said in farewell. "I
shall know no peace till you return."</p>
<p>Drawing aside the curtain he disappeared, and
then once more the scene changed.</p>
<p>A cold wind blew across the lagoon, and there
was a suspicion of coming thunder in the air. A
haggard, ragged tatterdemalion was standing on
the steps of a small door of the palace. Presently
it was opened to him by an ancient servant, who
asked his business, and would have driven him
away. When he had whispered something to
him, however, the other realized that it was
his master, whom he thought to be a prisoner
in the hands of the French. Then, amazed
beyond measure, the man admitted him. Having
before me the discovery he was about to make,
I looked at him with pity, and when he stumbled
and almost fell, I hastened forward to pick him
up, but only clasped air. At last, when his
servant had told him everything, he followed him
to a distant portion of the palace, where he was
destined to remain hidden for some days, taking
advantage of the many secret passages the palace
contained, and by so doing confirming his suspicions.
His wife was unfaithful to him, and the
man who had wrought his dishonour was the
man to whom he had been so kind and generous<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span>
a benefactor. I seemed to crouch by his side
time after time in the narrow passage behind the
arras, watching through a secret opening the
love-making going on within. I could see the
figure beside me quiver with rage and hate,
until I thought he would burst in upon them,
and then the old servant would lead him away,
his finger upon his lips. How many times
I stood with him there I cannot say, it is sufficient
that at last he could bear the pain no longer,
and, throwing open the secret door, entered the
room and confronted the man and woman. As I
write, I can recall the trembling figures of the
guilty pair, and the woman's shriek rings in my
ears even now. I can see Bunopelli rising from
the table, at which he had been seated, with the
death-look in his face. Within an hour the
confession of the crime they had perpetrated
against Revecce had been written and signed, and
they were separated and made secure until the
time for punishment should arrive. Then, for
the first time since he had arrived in Venice, he
ordered his barge and set off for the Council
Chamber to look his accusers in the face and to
demand the right to punish those who had
betrayed him.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i004" name="i004"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i004.jpg" alt="i004" /> <p class="caption">"Throwing open the secret door ... he confronted them."</p> </div>
<p>When he returned his face was grim and set,
and there was a look in his eyes that had not
been there before. He ascended to the room in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span>
which there was the trap-door in the floor, and
presently the wretched couple were brought
before him. In vain Bunopelli pleaded for
mercy for the woman. There was no mercy to
be obtained there. I would have pleaded for
them too, but I was powerless to make myself
heard. I saw the great beads of perspiration
that stood upon the man's brow, the look of
agonizing entreaty in the woman's face, and the
relentless decision on her husband's countenance.
Nothing could save them now. The man was
torn, crying to the last for mercy for her, from
the woman's side, the trap-door gave a click, and
he disappeared. Then they laid hands upon the
woman, and I saw them force open her mouth—but
I cannot set down the rest. My tongue
clove to the roof of my mouth, and though I
rushed forward in the hope of preventing their
horrible task, my efforts were as useless as
before. Then, with the pitiless smile still upon
the husband's face, and the moans ascending
from the vault below, and the woman with....
The scene changed.</p>
<p>When I saw it again a stream of bright sunshine
was flooding the room. It was still the
same apartment, and yet in a sense not the same.
The frescoes were faded upon the walls, there was
a vast difference in the shape and make of the
furniture, and in certain other things, but it was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span>
nevertheless the room in which Francesco del
Revecce had taken his terrible revenge. A tall
and beautiful woman, some thirty years of age,
was standing beside the window holding a letter
in her hand. She had finished the perusal of it and
was lingering with it in her hand, looking lovingly
upon the signature. At last she raised it to her
lips and kissed it passionately. Then, crossing
to a cradle at the further end of the room, she
knelt beside it and looked down at the child it
contained. She had bent her head in prayer,
and was still praying, when with a start I awoke
to find myself sitting beside Glenbarth and the
Don in the room in which we had been smoking
after dinner. Nikola was standing before the
fireplace, and there was a look like that of death
upon his face. It was not until afterwards that
the Spaniard and Glenbarth informed me that
they had witnessed exactly what I had seen. Both,
however, were at a loss to understand the meaning
of the last picture, and, having my own thoughts
in my mind, I was not to be tempted into explaining
it to them. That it was Nikola's own
mother, and that this house was her property,
and the same in which the infamous governor of
the Spanish Colony had made his love known to
her, I could now see. And if anything were
wanting to confirm my suspicions, Nikola's face,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span>
when my senses returned to me, was sufficient
to do so.</p>
<p>"Let me get out of this house," cried the Duke
thickly. "I cannot breathe while I am in it.
Take me away, Hatteras; for God's sake take
me away!"</p>
<p>I had already risen to my feet and had
hastened to his side.</p>
<p>"I think it would be better that we should
be going, Doctor Nikola," I said, turning to our
host.</p>
<p>The Spaniard, on his side, did not utter a word.
He was so dazed as to be beyond the power of
speech. But Nikola did not seem to comprehend
what I said. Never before had I seen such a
look upon his face. His complexion was always
white, now, however, it was scarcely human.
For my own part I knew what was passing in
his mind, but I could give no utterance to it.</p>
<p>"Come," I said to my companions, "let us
return to our hotel."</p>
<p>They rose and began to move mechanically
towards the door. The Duke had scarcely
reached it, however, before Nikola, with what
I could see was a violent effort, recovered his
self-possession.</p>
<p>"You must forgive me," he said in almost his
usual voice. "I had for the moment forgotten<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span>
my duties as host. I fear you have had but
a poor evening."</p>
<p>When we had donned our hats and cloaks, we
accompanied him down-stairs through the house,
which was now as silent as the grave, to the
great doors upon the steps. Having hailed a
gondola we entered it, after wishing Nikola "good-night."
He shook hands with Glenbarth and
myself, but I noticed that he did not offer to do so
with the Don. Then we shot out into the middle
of the canal and had presently turned the corner
and were making our way towards our hotel. I
am perfectly certain that during the journey not
one of us spoke. The events of the evening had
proved too much for us, and conversation was
impossible. We bade Martinos "good-night" in
the hall, and then the Duke and I ascended to
our own apartments. Spirits had been placed
upon the table, and I noticed that the Duke
helped himself to almost twice his usual quantity.
He looked as if he needed it.</p>
<p>"My God, Dick," he said, "did you see what
happened in that room? Did you see that
woman kneeling with the——"</p>
<p>He put down his glass hurriedly and walked
to the window. I could sympathize with him,
for had I not seen the same thing myself?</p>
<p>"It's certain, Dick," he said, when he returned
a few moments later, "that, were I to see much<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span>
more of Nikola in that house, I should go mad.
But why did he let me see it? Why? Why?
For Heaven's sake answer me."</p>
<p>How could I tell him the thought that was in
my own mind? How could I reveal to him the
awful fear that was slowly but surely taking
possession of me? Why had Nikola invited the
Don to his house? Why had he shown him the
picture of that terrible crime? Like Glenbarth
I could only ask the same question—Why?
Why? Why?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</SPAN></span></p>
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