menu_book Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of Farewell Nicola by Guy Boothby. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 7 You surely are not going to die with Dr Nicola in that strange house, said my wife when we were alone together that night. After what the duke has told us, I wonder you can be so foolish.

My dear girl, I answered, I don't see the force of your argument. I shan't be the first to have eaten a meal in the house in question. I don't suppose I should be the last. What do you think will happen to me? Do you think that we have returned to the times of the Borgias? That Nicola will poison us? No, I am looking forward to a very enjoyable and instructive evening.

While we are sitting at home wondering if the table is disappearing bodily into the vaults and taking you with it, or whether Nicola 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 he calls science. I don't think it is at all kind of you to go.

Dear girl, I answered, are you not a little unreasonable, knowing that Di Marinos has but lately arrived in Venice, also that he is a friend of ours? For did he not meet him in our company? It is only natural that Nicola should desire to show him some courtesy. In spite of its decay, the palace of Avicii is an exceedingly beautiful building, and when he heard that Marinos would like to visit it, he invited him to dinner. What could be

more natural? This is the nineteenth century. I am sure I don't mind what century it is, she replied. I still adhere to what I said just now. I am sorry that you are going. In that case, I am sorry also, I answered. But as the matter stands, I failed to see how I can get out of it. I could not let the Duke and Marinos go alone. So what can I do?

I suppose you will have to go, she replied ruthfully. I have a presentiment, however, that trouble will result from it. With that the subject was dropped, and it was not until the following morning when I was smoking my little den bath after breakfast that it cropped up again. Look here, Dick, said my companion then. What about this dinner at Nicola's house tonight?

You seemed to be very keen on going last night. Are you still of the same mind this morning? Why not, I answered. My wife does not like the notion, but I am looking forward to seeing Nicola play the host. The last time I dined with him, you must remember, was in Port Said. And then the banquet could hardly be described as a pleasant one. What is more, I am anxious to see what effect Nicola and his house will produce upon our

friend the Don. I wish you'd get rid of him altogether, my companion replied. I dislike the fellow more and more every time I see him. Why should you, he does you no harm. It's not that, said Glen Bath. My dislike to him is instinctive, just as one shudders

when one looks into the face of a snake, or when 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. 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. Doubtless when you have seen more of him, you will like him better. 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. 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 tonight, I'll make some excuse for you, but don't for goodness sake go and make things unpleasant for us all while you are there. 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 Nicola and Martinez as well. I wish they were both on the other side of the world.

I thereupon wrote and looked to Nicola, accepting on Glenn Vass'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 see me with a serious face. I am afraid, Dick, that there is something the matter with Gertrude, she said. She has gone to a room to lie down, complaining of a 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 lunchtime, I think I shall send for a doctor. As by lunchtime 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 and matter with the girl, nor anything to account for the mysterious symptoms. Is she usually of an excitable disposition, he inquired, when we discuss the matter together

in the drawing-room? Not in the least, I replied. I should say she is what might be called a very evenly-dispositioned woman. He asked one or two other questions and then took leave of us, promising to call again the next day. I cannot understand it at all, said my wife when he 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. 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 strange numbness still remained. She seemed incapable, said my wife informally, 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 for 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 looking upon himself in his own little world in a light that was very far removed from cheerful. Realising 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. I wonder if there is anything that Miss Trevor would like, he said as we crossed the Piazza of St Mark. It could be sent up to her, you know, in your name. You might send her some flowers, I answered, you could then send them from yourself. By Jove, that's the very thing, you do have some good ideas sometimes. Thank you, I said quietly. Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise

indeed. Bother your silly quotations, he retorted. Let's get back to that flower shop. 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 Gallagatti 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

have not been better to have chosen more of one sort than another, or whether the scent would not be too strong for a sick room. After that he worked out for 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 impatience, remembering my own feeling at a similar stage in my career. When we reached our 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. At quarter to seven we retired to our rooms to dress, and at a quarter past the hour we were ready to start. When we reached the hall we found the Don awaiting us. He was dressed with the greatest care, and presented not an unhandsome figure. He shook hands cordially with me, and

bowed to Glen Bath, 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 toward the other during the evening. 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 will be civil to him, if that's what you want. And with this assurance I was perforce compelled to be content. Having taken our places in the

gondola which was waiting for us, we set off. I had the pleasure of seeing Dr Nicola this morning, said Martinos, as we turned into the Rio del Concilio. He did me the honour of calling upon me. I gave a start of surprise on hearing this. Indeed I replied, and what hour was that? Exactly at eleven o'clock the Don answered. I remember the time because I was in the act of going out, but we encountered each other in the hall. No, 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 mysterious illness. At a quarter past the hour she felt so porleous 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 of Avicii. 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. The lots of dismal as when I had last seen it, lighted only by Nicola's lantern, it was still sufficiently awesome to create a decided impression upon the Don. You were certainly not wrong when you described it as a lonely building, he said,

as we passed along the corridor to Nicola's room. As he said this, the door opened and Nicola stood before us. He shook hands with the duke first, after his with the Don, and then with myself. Let me offer you a hearty welcome, he began. Pray, enter. We followed him into the room I have already described, and the door was closed behind us. It was in this apartment that I expected we should dine, but I discovered that this was not to be the case. The tables were still littered

with papers, books, scientific apparatus, just as when I had last seen it. Grimbaugh seated himself in a chair by the window. 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 armchair, regarded us for a few seconds with attentive arwaste, 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 housetops 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 side was drawn aside by the man who admitted us to the house, who informed Nicola, in Italian, that dinner was upon the table. In that case, let us go into it, said our host. Perhaps your grace will be kind enough to lead the way.

Glenbaugh did as he was requested, and we followed him, to find ourselves in a large, handsome apartment, which had once been richly fresco, but was now, like the rest of the palace, sadly fallen to decay. In the centre of the room 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. Decorations, an apiary, and a glass of silver, were, as I could see at one glance, unique.

Three men servants awaited our coming, but where they hailed from and how Nicola had induced them to enter the palace, I could not understand. Nicola, as our host, occupied one end of the table. Glenbaugh, 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. Nicola 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 chef in Europe. It was perfect in every particular. Though Nicola 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 family butler, and taken into dinner by the bishop and rural dean. The Nicola I had seen when I 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. As a great traveller, Don Jose, he said, addressing our 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? That which I managed to obtain after the fall of Valparisio, said Martinez. We had been without food for two days, that is to say without a decent meal,

and 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. You were in opposition to Bel Macedina then, said Nicola quietly. Martinez paused for a moment before he answered. Yes, against Bel Macedia, he replied. I wonder whether the old villain really died, and if so, what became of his money?

That is a question one would like to have settled concerning a good many people, Glenn Bath put in. There was that man up in the Central States, the Republic of, what was its name, Equitina, said Nicola. I don't know whether you remember the story. You mean the fellow who shot those unfortunate young men, I ask? The man you were telling me of the other night? The same, Nicola 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. 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. Permit me to pour out a libation to the God of Chance, said Martinez. He has served me well. I think we can all subscribe to that, said Nicola. 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, another friend had her as chance to be an early riser, and to have taken a certain cruise before breakfast. While you, Don Martinez, would in all probability not be my guest tonight, had not, the Spaniard looked sharply at him as if he feared what he was about to hear. Had not what happened, he asked. Had President Balmaceda won his day, Mr. Quattro.

He did not do so, however, and so we force it here tonight, certainly a libation to the God of Chance. As 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 guests. From the Spaniard's information, Nicola 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. He 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, Nicola suggested that we should leave the dining room and return to his own sitting

room. 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. 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. Nicola 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 Nicola began to speak of the history of Venice. As I had already good reason to know, he had made a perfect study of it, particularly of the part played in it by the Rovici family. He dealt with a particular emphasis upon the portrayal through the lion's mouth, and then with an apology to Glen Barth 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. And there the starving wretch died with the moans of the woman he loved sounding in his ears from the room above, said Nicola. Does it not seem that you can hear them now? For my part, I think they will echo throughout

all eternity. If he had been an actor, what a wonderful tradition he would have made, as he stood before us pointing down into the abyss he held us spellbound. As for Martinez, all the accumulated superstition of the centuries seemed to be concentrated in him, and he watched Nicola's face as if he were fascinated beyond the power of movement. Come, Nicola began at last, closing the trap door and placing the blood upon it as he spoke.

You have heard the history of the house. You should now do more than that. You shall see it. Fixing his eyes upon us, he made two or three passes in the air with his long wide 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. I must have lost consciousness, but I have no

recollection of anything until I found myself in a place I thought for a moment and I had never seen before. Yet after the 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 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 Niffa 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, handsome man, and he 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 might likely guess to be the architect, but 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 gondola 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. They do not see us, said Nicola, who was beside me. Let us enter and hear what the famous

Admiral Francesco del Revici thinks of his property. We accordingly did so to find ourselves in a magnificent courtyard. In the centre of this courtyard was a well upon which a carver and 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 pantrass offices, and penetrated even to the dungeons below the water level. Then we once more ascended into the courtyard and stood at the great doors, while the owner took his departure at his barge. Please be on measure with his newer bow. And then the scene changed.

Once more I stood before the house with Nicola. It was night, but it was not dark, for great crescents 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 of Revici that night. The first of the series of gorgeous fates given to celebrate the nuptials of Francesco di Revici, 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 Lovano, was in progress. The bridegroom was still comparatively young. He was also rich and powerful. The bride was one of the greatest heresies 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. Let us once more enter and look about as said Nicola.

One moment I answered, drawing him back, step as he was in the act of coming into collision with a beautiful girl, who had just disembarked from a gondola upon the arm of a grey-haired man. 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. And indeed this appeared to be the case. No one recognised us. For more than once I saw people approach Nicola, and scarcely believable, though

it may seem, walk through him, without being the least aware of the fact. 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. Let us ascend, said Nicola, and see the pageant there. It was indeed assumptuous 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 recognised the former as being the man I had seen praising the architect on the scullia 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 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 had haunted one long after they had looked at

them. She was doing her best to appear happy before her deaths, but in my own heart I knew that such was not the case. Knowing what was before her I realised 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 also envied her good fortune. Then the scene once more

changed. This time the room was that with which I was best acquainted, the same in which Nicola had taken up his abode. The frescoes upon the walls and ceilings were barely dry, and Avicii was at sea again, posing 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 a table at which a man was writing. I at once recognised her as Avicii'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 Avicii. There was no need for Nicola to tell me that he was Andrea Bunapelli, the artist to whose skill the room owed its paintings. Art thou sure to 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 to be worse when it is against the great Avicii. I have borne that in mind, the man answered, but there is naught to fear, dear love. The writing will not be suspected, and I will drop it in the lion's mouth myself, and then her only answer was to bend over 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 sworn that he saw me as I stood watching him. Do not linger, she said in farewell, I shall know no peace till you return. Drawing aside the curtain he disappeared, and then once more the scene changed. A cold wind blew across the lagoon, and there was the suspicion of coming thunder in the air. A haggard, ragged, tatter-madallion 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 realised that it was his master, and 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, and 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 doing so 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, a benefactor.

I seemed to crouch by his side, time after time, in the narrow passage behind the addas, watching through a secret opening of 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 Bunda Pelli 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 Ravici 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. When he returned, his face was grim and set. There was a look in his eyes that had not been there before. He ascended to the room in which there was a trap door in the floor, and presently the wretched couple were brought

before him. In vain Bunda Pelli 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 agonising 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.

The woman sighed, the trap door gave a click, and he disappeared. Then they laid hands upon the woman. 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 a pitiless smile still upon the husband's face, the moans ascending from the vault below, and the woman with the scene changed. When I saw it again, a stream of

bright sunshine was flooding the room. It was still the same apartment, in a sense not the same. Frescos 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 nevertheless the room in which Francesco Di Ravici had taken his terrible revenge. The tall and beautiful woman, some 30 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 lovely upon the signature. At last she raised it to her lips and kissed it passionately. In crossing to a cradle at the further end of the room, she knelt beside it and looked down at the child at the time. She had bent her head in prayer and was still praying, when with a start I awoke and found myself sitting beside Glenn Bath and the Don in the room in which we had been smoking after dinner. Niccolet was standing before the fireplace.

There was a look like that of death upon his face. It was not until afterwards that the Spaniard and Glenn Bath informed me 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 was Nicola'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, Nicola's face, when my senses returned to me, was sufficient to do so. Let me get out of this house, cried the Duke sickly. I cannot breathe while I am in it. Take me away, Hatteras, for God's sake, take me away. I had already risen to my feet and hastened to his side. I think it better that we should be going, Dr Nicola, I said, turning to our host.

The Spaniard on his side did not utter a word. He was so dazed as to be on the power of speech, but Nicola did not seem to comprehend what I said. Never before had I seen such a look upon his face. His complexion was always white, but 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. Come, I said to my companions, let us return to our hotel.

They rose and began to move mechanically towards the door. The Duke had scarcely reached it, however, before Nicola, with what I could see was a violent effort, recovered his self-possession. You must forgive me, he said in almost his usual voice. I had for the moment forgotten my duties as host. I fear you have had but a poor evening. When we had donned our hats and cloaks, we accompanied him downstairs 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 Nicola good night, he shook hands with Glenn Bath 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 pleasantly 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 Martinez 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. My God, Dicky said, did you see what happened in that room? Did you see that woman kneeling with

him? Put down his glass hurriedly and walked to the window. I could sympathise with him, for had I not seen the same thing myself. It's certain Dicky said when he returned a few minutes later, that were I to see much more of Nicola in that house, I should go mad. But why did he let me see it? Why, why, for heaven's sake, answer me? 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 Nicola invited the Don to his house? Why had he shown in the picture of that terrible crime? Like Gambath, I could only ask the same question. Why, why, why?