<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XII</h2>
<p>As may be supposed my meeting with the Don
afforded me abundant food for reflection. Was
it true, as he had said, that in his hour of
distress Nikola had afforded him an asylum?
and if so, why was the latter doing so? I
knew Nikola too well by this time to doubt that
he had some good and sufficient reason for his
action. Lurking at the back of my mind was a
hideous suspicion that, although I tried my
hardest not to think of it, would not allow itself to
be banished altogether. I could not but remember
the story Nikola had told me on that eventful
evening concerning his early life, and the chance
remark he had let fall one day that he knew
more about the man, Don Martinos, than I supposed,
only tended to confirm it. If that were so,
and he still cherished, as I had not the least doubt
he did—for Nikola was one who never forgave or
forgot,—the same undying hatred and desire for
vengeance against his old enemy, the son of his
mother's betrayer, then there was—but here I was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</SPAN></span>
compelled to stop. I could not go on. The
death-like face of the man I had just left rose
before my mind's eye like an accusing angel,
whereupon I made a resolution that I would
think no more of him nor would I say anything
to any member of our party concerning my
meeting with him that afternoon. It is superfluous
to remark that the latter resolve was more
easily kept than the former.</p>
<p>The first dinner in Venice after our return
was far from being a success. Miss Gertrude's
headache, instead of leaving her, had become so
bad that she was compelled to go forthwith to
bed, leaving Glenbarth in despair, and the rest
of our party as low-spirited as possible. Next
morning she declared she was a little better,
though she complained of having passed a
wretched night.</p>
<p>"I had such horrible dreams," she told my wife,
"that when I woke up I scarcely dared close my
eyes again."</p>
<p>"I cannot remember quite what she said she
dreamt," said Phyllis when she told me the story;
"but I know that it had something to do with
Doctor Nikola and his dreadful house, and that
it frightened her terribly."</p>
<p>The girl certainly looked pale and haggard,
and not a bit like the happy creature who had
stepped into the train at Rome.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Heaven grant that there is not more trouble
ahead," I said to myself, as I smoked my pipe and
thought over the matter. "I am beginning to
wish we had not come to Venice at all. In
that case we should not have seen Nikola or the
Don, Miss Trevor would not have been in this
state, and I should not have been haunted day
and night with this horrible suspicion of foul
play."</p>
<p>It was no use, however, talking of what might
or might not have happened. It was sufficient
that the things I have narrated <i>had</i> come to
pass, and I must endeavour to derive what
satisfaction I could from the reflection that I
had done all that was possible under the
circumstances.</p>
<p>On the day following our return to Venice,
the Dean of Bedminster set off for England. I
fancy he was sorry to go, and of one thing I am
quite sure, and that was that we regretted losing
him. It was arranged that, as soon as we
returned to England, we should pay him a
visit at Bedminster, and that the Duke should
accompany us. Transparently honest though
he was in all things, I fancy the old gentleman
had a touch of vanity in his composition, and
I could quite understand that he would be
anxious to show off his future son-in-law before
the society of his quiet cathedral town.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>On the night following his departure, I had
the most terrible dream I have had in my
life. Though some time has elapsed since then,
I can still recall the fright it gave me. My
wife declares that she could see the effect of it
upon my face for more than a day afterwards.
But this, I think, is going a little too far. I
am willing, however, to admit that it made a
very great impression upon me at the time—the
more so for the reason that it touched my
thought, and I was quite at a loss to understand
it. It was night, I remember, and I had just
entered the Palace Revecce. I must have been
invisible, for, though I stood in the room with
Nikola, he did not appear to be aware of my
presence. As usual he was at work upon some
of his chemical experiments. Then I looked at his
face, and saw that it wore an expression that I
had never seen there before. I can describe it
best by saying that it was one of absolute
cruelty, unrelieved by even the smallest gleam
of pity. And yet it was not cruelty in the
accepted meaning of the word, so much as an
overwhelming desire to punish and avenge. I
am quite aware, on reading over what I have
just written, that my inability to convey the
exact impression renders my meaning obscure.
Yet I can do no more. It was a look beyond
the power of my pen to describe. Presently he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</SPAN></span>
put down the glass he held in his hand, and
looked up with his head a little on one side,
as if he were listening for some sound in the
adjoining room. There was a shuffling footstep
in the corridor outside, and then the door opened
and there entered a figure so awful that I shrank
back from it appalled. It was Don Martinos,
and yet it was not the Don. The face and the
height were perhaps the same, but the man
himself was—oh, so different. On seeing Nikola
he shambled forward, rather than walked, and
dropped in a heap at his feet, clutching at his
knees, and making a feeble whining noise, not
unlike that of an animal in pain.</p>
<p>"Get up," said Nikola sternly, and as he said
it he pointed to a couch on the further side of
the room.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i007" name="i007"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i007.jpg" alt="i007" /> <p class="caption">"He crawled upon the floor like a dog."</p> </div>
<p>The man went and stretched himself out upon
it as if in obedience to some unspoken command.
Nikola followed him, and having exposed the
other's chest, took from the table what looked like
a hypodermic syringe, filled it from one of the
graduated glasses upon the table, and injected
the contents beneath the prostrate man's skin. An
immediate and violent fit of trembling was the
result, followed by awful contortions of the face.
Then suddenly he stiffened himself out and lay
like one dead. Taking his watch from his pocket
Nikola made a careful note of the time. So vivid<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</SPAN></span>
was my dream that I can even remember hearing
the ticking of the watch. Minute after minute
went by, until at last the Don opened his eyes.
Then I realized that the man was no longer a
human being, but an animal. He uttered horrible
noises in his throat, that were not unlike the
short, sharp bark of a wolf, and when Nikola bade
him move he crawled upon the floor like a dog.
After that he retreated to a corner, where he
crouched and glowered upon his master, as
if he were prepared at any moment to spring
upon him and drag him down. As one throws
a bone to a dog so did Nikola toss him food.
He devoured it ravenously, as would a
starving cur. There was foam at the corners
of his mouth, and the light of madness in his
eyes. Nikola returned to the table and began
to pour some liquid into a glass. So busily
occupied was he, that he did not see the thing,
I cannot call it a man, in the corner, get on to
his feet. He had taken up a small tube and
was stirring the contents of the glass with it,
when the other was less than a couple of feet
from him. I tried to warn him of his danger,
only to find that I could not utter a word.
Then the object sprang upon him and clawed at
his throat. He turned, and, a moment later,
the madman was lying, whining feebly, upon
the floor, and Nikola was wiping the blood<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</SPAN></span>
from a scratch on the left-hand side of his
throat. At that moment I awoke to find myself
sitting up in bed, with the perspiration streaming
down my face.</p>
<p>"I have had such an awful dream!" I said, in
answer to my wife's startled inquiry as to what
was the matter. "I don't know that I have
ever been so frightened before."</p>
<p>"You are trembling now," said my wife.
"Try not to think of it, dear. Remember it
was only a dream."</p>
<p>That it was something more than a mere
dream I felt certain. It was so complete and
dovetailed so exactly with my horrible suspicions
that I could not altogether consign it to the
realms of fancy. Fearing a repetition if I
attempted to go to sleep again, I switched on
the electric light and endeavoured to interest
myself in a book, but it was of no use. The
face of the poor brute I had seen crouching in
the corner haunted me continually, and would
not be dispelled. Never in my life before had
I been so thankful to see the dawn. At breakfast
my wife commented upon my dream.
Miss Trevor, however, said nothing. She became
quieter and more distracted every day. Towards
the evening Glenbarth spoke to me concerning
her.</p>
<p>"I don't know what to make of it all," he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</SPAN></span>
said anxiously. "She assures me that she is
perfectly well and happy, but seeing the condition
she is in, I can scarcely believe that. It
is as much as I can do to get a word out of her.
If I didn't know that she loves me I should
begin to imagine that she regretted having
promised to be my wife."</p>
<p>"I don't think you need be afraid of that,"
I answered. "One has only to look at her face
to see how deeply attached she is to you. The
truth of the whole matter is, my dear fellow, I
have come to the conclusion that we have had
enough of Venice. Nikola is at the bottom of
our troubles, and the sooner we see the last
of him the better it will be for all parties
concerned."</p>
<p>"Hear, hear, to that," he answered fervently.
"Deeply grateful though I am to him for what
he did when Gertrude was ill, I can honestly
say that I never want to see him again."</p>
<p>At luncheon that day I accordingly broached
the subject of our return to England. It was
received by my wife and the Duke with unfeigned
satisfaction, and by Miss Trevor with
what appeared to be approval. It struck me,
however, that she did not seem so anxious to
leave as I expected she would be. This somewhat
puzzled me, but I was not destined to
remain very long in ignorance of the reason.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>That afternoon I happened to be left alone
with her for some little time. We talked for
a while on a variety of topics, but I could see
all the time that there was something she was
desirous of saying to me, though she could not
quite make up her mind how to commence. At
last she rose, and crossing the room took a chair
by my side.</p>
<p>"Sir Richard, I am going to ask a favour of
you," she said, with a far-away look in her
eyes.</p>
<p>"Let me assure you that it is granted before
you ask it," I replied. "Will you tell me what
it is?"</p>
<p>"It may appear strange to you," she said, "but
I have a conviction, absurd, superstitious, or
whatever you may term it, that some great
misfortune will befall me if I leave Venice just
yet. I am not my own mistress, and must stay.
I want you to arrange it."</p>
<p>This was a nice sort of shell to have dropped
into one's camp, particularly at such a time and
under such circumstances, and I scarcely knew
what reply to make.</p>
<p>"But what possible misfortune could befall
you?" I asked.</p>
<p>"I cannot say," she replied. "I am only
certain that I must remain for a little while
longer. You can have no idea what I have<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</SPAN></span>
suffered lately. Bear with me, Sir Richard."
Here she lifted a face of piteous entreaty to me,
which I was powerless to resist, adding, "I
implore you not to be angry with me."</p>
<p>"Is it likely that I should be angry with you,
Miss Gertrude?" I replied. "Why should I be?
If you really desire to remain for a little longer
there is nothing to prevent it. But you must
not allow yourself to become ill again. Believe
me it is only your imagination that is playing
tricks with you."</p>
<p>"Ah! you do not know everything," she
answered. "Every night I have such terrible
dreams that I have come to dread going to bed."</p>
<p>I thought of my own dream on the previous
night, and could well understand how she felt.
After her last remark she was silent for some
moments. That there was something still to
come, I could see, but what it was I had no
more idea than a child. At last she spoke.</p>
<p>"Sir Richard," she said, "would you mind
very much if I were to ask you a most important
question? I scarcely like to do so, but I
know that you are my friend, and that you will
give me good advice."</p>
<p>"I will endeavour to do so," I replied.
"What is the question you wish to ask me?"</p>
<p>"It is about my engagement," she replied.
"You know how good and unselfish the Duke<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</SPAN></span>
is, and how truly he believes in me. I could
not bear to bring trouble upon him, but in love
there should be no secrets—nothing should be
hidden one from the other. Yet I feel that
I am hiding so much—can you understand what
I mean?"</p>
<p>"In a great measure," I answered, "but I
should like to do so thoroughly. Miss Gertrude,
if I may hazard a guess, I should say that you
have been dreaming about Doctor Nikola again?"</p>
<p>"Yes," she answered after a moment's hesitation.
"Absurd though it may be, I can think
of no one else. He weighs upon my spirits like
lead, and yet I know that I should be grateful
to him for all he did for me when I was so ill.
But for him I should not be alive now."</p>
<p>"I am afraid that you have been allowing the
thought of your recent danger to lie too heavily
upon your mind," I continued. "Remember
that this is the nineteenth century, and that
there are no such things as you think Nikola
would have you believe."</p>
<p>"When I know that there are?" she asked,
looking at me reproachfully. "Ah, Sir Richard,"
she continued, "if you knew all that I do you
would pity me. But no one will ever know, and
I cannot tell them. But one thing is quite
certain. I must stay in Venice for the present—happen
what may. Something tells me so, day<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</SPAN></span>
and night. And when I think of the Duke my
heart well-nigh breaks for fear I should bring
trouble upon him."</p>
<p>I did my best to comfort her; promised that
if she really desired to remain in Venice I would
arrange it for her, and by so doing committed
myself to a policy that I very well knew, when I
came to consider it later, was not expedient, and
very far from being judicious. Regarded seriously
in a sober commonplace light, the whole affair
seems too absurd, and yet at the time nothing
could possibly have been more real or earnest.
When she had heard me out, she thanked me very
prettily for the interest I had taken, and then
with a little sigh, that went to my heart, left
the room. Later in the afternoon I broke the
news to my wife, and told her of the promise I
had given Gertrude.</p>
<p>"But what does it all mean, Dick?" she
asked, looking at me with startled eyes. "What
is it she fears will happen if she goes away from
Venice?"</p>
<p>"That is what I cannot get her to say," I
replied. "Indeed I am not altogether certain
that she knows herself. It's a most perplexing
business, and I wish to goodness I had never had
anything to do with it. The better plan, I
think, would be to humour her, keep her as
cheerful as we can, and when the proper time<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</SPAN></span>
arrives, get her away from Venice and home to
England as quickly as we can."</p>
<p>My wife agreed with me on this point, and
our course of action was thereupon settled.</p>
<p>Later in the afternoon I made a resolution.
My own suspicions concerning the wretched
Martinos were growing so intolerable that I
could bear them no longer. The memory of
the dream I had had on the previous night
was never absent from my thoughts, and I
felt that unless I could set matters right once
and for all, and convince myself that they
were not as I suspected with Anstruther's
friend, I should be unable to close my eyes when
next I went to bed. For this reason I determined
to set off to the Palace Revecce at once,
and to have an interview with Nikola in the
hope of being able to extort some information
from him.</p>
<p>"Perhaps after all," I argued, "I am worrying
myself unnecessarily. There may be no connection
between Martinos and that South American."</p>
<p>I determined, however, to set the matter at
rest that afternoon. Accordingly at four o'clock
I made an excuse and departed for the Rio del
Consiglio.</p>
<p>It was a dark, cloudy afternoon, and the
house, as I approached it, looked drearier, if
such a thing were possible, than I had ever<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</SPAN></span>
seen it. I disembarked from my gondola at
the steps, and having bade the man wait
for me, which he did on the other side of the
street, I rang the bell. The same old servant
whom I remembered having seen on a previous
occasion answered it, and informed me that his
master was not at home, but that he expected
him every minute. I determined to wait for
him and ascended the stairs to his room. The
windows were open, and from where I stood I
could watch the gondolier placidly eating his bread
and onions on the other side of the street. So
far as I could see there was no change in the
room itself. The centre table as usual was
littered with papers and books, that near the
window was covered with chemical apparatus,
while the old black cat was fast asleep upon
the couch on the other side. The oriental rug,
described in another place, covered the ominous
trap-door so that no portion of it could be seen.
I was still standing at the window looking
down upon the canal below, when the door
at the further end softly opened and a face
looked in at me. Good heavens! I can even
now feel the horror which swept over me. It
was the countenance of Don Martinos, but so
changed, even from what it had been when I had
seen him in the Rio del Barcaroli, that I scarcely
recognized it. It was like the face of an animal<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</SPAN></span>
and of a madman, if such could be combined.
He looked at me and then withdrew, closing
the door behind him, only to re-open it a
few moments later. Having apparently made
sure that I was alone, he crept in, and, crossing
the room, approached me. For a moment I
was at a loss how to act. I was not afraid that
the poor wretch might do me any mischief, but
my whole being shrank from him with a physical
revulsion beyond all description in words. I can
understand now something of the dislike my
wife and the Duke declared they entertained for
him. On tip-toe, with his finger to his lips, as
if to enjoin silence, he crept towards me, muttering
something in Spanish that I could not
understand; then in English he continued—</p>
<p>"Hush, Senor, cannot you see them?"</p>
<p>He pointed his hand in various directions as
if he could see the figures of men and women
moving about the apartment. Once he bowed
low as if to some imaginary dignitary, drawing
back at the same time, as if to permit him to
pass. Then turning to me he continued, "Do
you know who that is? No! Then I will tell
you. Senor, that is the most noble Admiral
Revecce, the owner of this house."</p>
<p>Then for a short time he stood silent, picking
feebly at his fingers and regarding me ever and
anon from the corner of his eye. Suddenly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</SPAN></span>
there was a sharp quick step in the corridor
outside, the handle of the door turned, and
Nikola entered the room. As his glance fell
upon the wretched being at my side a look not
unlike that I had seen in my dream flashed into
his countenance. It was gone again, however,
as suddenly as it had come, and he was advancing
to greet me with all his old politeness. It
was then that the folly of my errand was borne
in upon me. Even if my suspicions were correct
what could I do, and what chance could I hope
to have of being able to induce Nikola to confide
in me? Meanwhile he had pointed to
the door, and Martinos, trembling in every
limb, was slinking towards it like a whipped
hound. At that moment I made a discovery that
I confess came near to depriving me of my
presence of mind altogether. You can judge of
its value for yourself when I say, that extending
to the lobe of Nikola's left ear half-way down and
across his throat was a newly-made scar, just
such an one, in fact, as would be made by a hand
with sharp finger-nails clutching at it. Could
my dream have been true, after all?</p>
<p>"I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see
you, my dear Sir Richard," said Nikola as he
seated himself. "I understood that you had
returned to Venice."</p>
<p>Having out-grown the desire to learn how<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</SPAN></span>
Nikola had become aware of anything, I merely
agreed that we had returned, and then took the
chair he offered me.</p>
<p>When all the circumstances are taken into
consideration, I really think that that moment
was certainly the most embarrassing of my life.
Nikola's eyes were fixed steadily upon mine, and
I could see in them what was almost an expression
of malicious amusement. As usual he was
making capital out of my awkwardness, and as I
knew that I could do no good, I felt that there
was nothing for it but for me to submit. Then
the miserable Spaniard's face rose before my
mind's eye, and I felt that I could not abandon
him, without an effort, to what I knew would be
his fate. Nikola brought me up to the mark
even quicker than I expected.</p>
<p>"It is very plain," he said, with a satirical
smile playing round his thin lips, "that you have
come with the intention of saying something
important to me. What is it?"</p>
<p>At this I rose from my chair and went across
the room to where he was sitting. Placing my
hand upon his shoulder I looked down into his
face, took courage, and began.</p>
<p>"Doctor Nikola," I said, "you and I have
known each other for many years now. We
have seen some strange things together, one of
us perhaps less willingly than the other. But I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</SPAN></span>
venture to think, however, that we have never
stood on stranger or more dangerous ground than
we do to-night."</p>
<p>"I am afraid I am scarcely able to follow
your meaning," he replied.</p>
<p>I knew that this was not the case, but I was
equally convinced that to argue the question
with him would be worse than useless.</p>
<p>"Do you remember the night on which you
told me that story concerning the woman who
lived in this house, who was betrayed by the
Spaniard, and who died on that Spanish island?"
I asked.</p>
<p>He rose hurriedly from his chair and went
to the window. I heard him catch his breath,
and knew that I had moved him at last.</p>
<p>"What of it?" he inquired, turning on me
sharply as he spoke.</p>
<p>"Only that I have come to see you concerning
the <i>dénouement</i> of that story," I answered. "I
have come because I cannot possibly stay away.
You have no idea how deeply I have been thinking
over this matter. Do you think I cannot see
through it and read between the lines? You
told it to me because in some inscrutable fashion
of your own you had become aware that Don
Martinos would bring a letter of introduction to
me from my friend Anstruther. Remember it
was I who introduced him to you! Do you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</SPAN></span>
think that I did not notice the expression that
came into your face whenever you looked at
him? Later my suspicions were aroused. The
Don was a Spaniard, he was rich, and he had
made the mistake of admitting that while he had
been in Chili he had never been in Equinata.
You persuaded me to bring him to this house,
and here you obtained your first influence over
him."</p>
<p>"My dear Hatteras," said Nikola, "you are
presupposing a great deal. And you get beyond
my depth. Don't you think it would be wiser
if you were to stick to plain facts?"</p>
<p>"My suppositions are stronger than my facts," I
answered. "You laid yourself out to meet him,
and your influence over him became greater every
day. It could be seen in his face. He was
fascinated, and could not escape. Then he
began to gamble, and found his money slipping
through his fingers like water through a sieve."</p>
<p>"You have come to the conclusion, then, that
I am responsible for that also?"</p>
<p>"I do not say that it was your doing exactly,"
I said, gathering courage from the calmness of
his manner and the attention he was giving
me. "But it fits in too well with the whole
scheme to free you entirely from responsibility.
Then look at the change that began to come
over the man himself. His faculties were<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</SPAN></span>
leaving him one by one, being wiped out, just as
a school-boy wipes his lesson from a slate. If he
had been an old man I should have said that it
was the commencement of his second childhood;
but he is still a comparatively young man."</p>
<p>"You forget that while he had been gambling
he had also been drinking heavily. May not
debauchery tell its own tale?"</p>
<p>"It is not debauchery that has brought about
this terrible change. Who knows that better
than yourself? After the duel, which you providentially
prevented, we went to Rome for a
fortnight. On the afternoon of our return I met
him near the telegraph-office. At first glance
I scarcely recognized him, so terrible was the
change in his appearance. If ever a poor wretch
was on the verge of idiotcy he was that one.
Moreover, he informed me that he was living
with you. Why should the fact that he was
so doing produce such a result? I cannot
say! I dare not try to understand it! But, for
pity's sake, Nikola, by all you hold dear I
implore you to solve the riddle. Last night I
had a dream!"</p>
<p>"You are perhaps a believer in dreams?" he
remarked very quietly, as if the question scarcely
interested him.</p>
<p>"This dream was of a description such as I
have never had in my life before," I answered,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</SPAN></span>
disregarding the sneer, and then told it to him,
increasing rather than lessening the abominable
details. He heard me out without moving a
muscle of his face, and it was only when I had
reached the climax and paused that he spoke.</p>
<p>"This is a strange rigmarole you tell me," he
said. "Fortunately you confess that it was only
a dream."</p>
<p>"Doctor Nikola," I cried, "it was more than a
dream. To prove it, let me ask you how you
received that long scratch that shows upon your
neck and throat?"</p>
<p>I pointed my finger at it, but Nikola returned
my gaze still without a flicker of his eyelids.</p>
<p>"What if I do admit it?" he began. "What
if your dream were correct? What difference
would it make?"</p>
<p>I looked at him in amazement. To tell the
truth I was more astonished by his admission of
the correctness of my suspicions than I should
have been had he denied them altogether. As
it was, I was too much overcome to be able to
answer him for a few moments.</p>
<p>"Come," he said, "answer my question.
What if I do admit the truth of all you
say?"</p>
<p>"You confess then that the whole business
has been one long scheme to entrap this wretched
man, and to get him into your power?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'Tis," he answered, still keeping his eyes
fixed upon me. "You see I am candid! Go
on!"</p>
<p>My brain began to reel under the strain placed
upon it. Since he had owned to it, what was I
to do? What could I say?</p>
<p>"Sir Richard Hatteras," said Nikola, approaching
a little nearer to me, resting one hand upon
the table and speaking very impressively, "I
wonder if it has struck you that you are a brave
man to come to me to-day and to say this to
me? In the whole circle of the men I know I
may declare with truth that I am not aware of
one other who would do so much. What is this
man to you that you should befriend him? He
would have robbed you of your dearest friend
without a second thought, as he would rob you
of your wife if the idea occurred to him. He is
without bowels of compassion; the blood of
thousands stains his hands and cries aloud for
vengeance. He is a fugitive from justice, a
thief, a liar, and a traitor to the country he
swore to govern as an honest man. On a certain
little island on the other side of the world there
is a lonely churchyard, and in that churchyard
a still lonelier grave. In it lies the body of a
woman—my mother. In this very room that
woman was betrayed by his father. So in this
room also shall that betrayal be avenged. I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</SPAN></span>
have waited all my life; the opportunity has
been long in coming. Now, however, it has
arrived, and I am decreed by Fate to be the
instrument of Vengeance!"</p>
<p>I am a tall man, but as he said this Nikola
seemed to tower over me, his face set hard as a
rock, his eyes blazing like living coals, and his
voice trembling under the influence of his passion.
Little by little I was growing to think as he
did, and to look upon Martinos as he saw him.</p>
<p>"But this cannot go—it cannot go on," I
repeated, in a last feeble protest against the
horror of the thing. "Surely you could not find
it in your heart to treat a fellow-creature so?"</p>
<p>"He is no fellow-creature of yours or mine,"
Nikola retorted sternly, as if he were rebuking a
childish mistake. "Would you call the man who
shot down those innocent young men of Equinata,
before their mothers' eyes, a fellow-creature? Is
it possible that the son of the man who so cruelly
wronged and betrayed the trusting woman he
first saw in this room, who led her across the
seas to desert her, and to send her to her grave,
could be called a man? I will give you one
more instance of his barbarity."</p>
<p>So saying, he threw off the black velvet coat
he was wearing, and drawing up his right shirt-sleeve,
bade me examine his arm. I saw
that from the shoulder to the elbow it was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</SPAN></span>
covered with the scars of old wounds, strange
white marks, in pairs, and each about half-an-inch
long.</p>
<p>"Those scars," he went on, "were made by his
orders, and with hot pincers, when I was a boy.
And as his negro servants made them he laughed
and taunted me with my mother's shame. No!
No! This is no man—rather a dangerous animal,
that were best out of the way. It has been told
me that you and I shall only meet twice more.
Let those meetings lead you to think better of
me. The time is not far distant when I must
leave the world! When that hour arrives there
is a lonely monastery in a range of eastern
mountains, upon which no Englishman has ever
set his foot. Of that monastery I shall become
an inmate. No one outside its walls will ever
look upon my face again. There I shall work
out my Destiny, and, if I have sinned, be sure I
shall receive my punishment at those hands that
alone can bestow it. Now leave me!"</p>
<p>God help me for the coward I am, but the fact
remains that I left him without another word.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</SPAN></span></p>
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