Part 38 (1/2)

”By G.o.d, I will!” said Marcello, in the tone of one who takes a solemn obligation.

He rose and stood upright, as if he were ready, and though he was still pale there was no look of weak horror left in his face, nor any weakness at all.

”Good!” exclaimed Kalmon. ”I would rather see you so. Now listen to me, and collect your thoughts, Marcello. Ercole is in Rome. You remember Ercole, your keeper at the cottage by the sh.o.r.e? Yes. I got the last link in the evidence about Corbario's attack on you from him to-day. He is a strange fellow. He has known it since last summer and has kept it to himself. But he is one of those diabolically clever peasants that one meets in the Campagna, and he must have his reasons. I told him to sleep at my house to-night, and when I went home he was sitting up in the entry with his dog. I have sent him to the station to find out whether Corbario really left or not. You don't think he will succeed? I tell you there are few detectives to be compared with one of those fellows when they are on the track of a man they hate. I told him to come here, no matter how late it might be, since he is your man. I suppose he can get in?”

”Of course. There is a night-bell for the porter. Ercole knows that.

Besides, the porter will not go to bed as long as you are here. While we are waiting for him, tell me what Ercole has found out.”

They sat down again, and Kalmon told Marcello the sailor's story of what his captain had seen from the deck of the brigantine. Marcello listened gravely.

”I remember that there was a small vessel very far in,” he said. ”Aurora will remember it, too, for she watched it and spoke of it. We thought it must run aground on the bar, it was so very near.”

”Yes. She remembers it, too. The evidence is complete.”

There was silence again. Marcello threw another log upon the fire, and they waited. Kalmon smoked thoughtfully, but Marcello leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with one hand. The pain had not begun to be dulled yet, and he could only sit still and bear it.

At last the door opened, and a servant said that Ercole was waiting, and had been ordered to come, no matter how late it was. A moment later he appeared, and for once without his dog.

He stood before the door as it closed behind him waiting to be told to come forward. Marcello spoke kindly to him.

”Come here,” he said. ”It is a long time since we saw each other, and now we are in a hurry.”

Ercole's heavy boots rang on the polished floor as he obeyed and came up to the table. He looked gloomily and suspiciously at both men.

”Well?” said Kalmon, encouraging him to speak.

”He is still in Rome,” Ercole answered. ”How do I know it? I began to ask the porters and the under station-masters who wear red caps, and the woman who sells newspapers and cigars at the stand, and the man who clips the tickets at the doors of the waiting-rooms. 'Did you see a gentleman, so and so, with a servant, so and so, and much luggage, going away by the train? For I am his keeper from the Roman sh.o.r.e, and he told me to be here when he went away, to give him a certain answer.' So I said, going from one to another, and weeping to show that it was a very urgent matter. And many shook their heads and laughed at me. But at last a porter heard, and asked if the gentleman were so and so. And I said yes, that he was so and so, and his servant was so and so, and that the gentleman was a rich gentleman. And the porter said, 'See what a combination! That is the gentleman who had all his luggage brought in this afternoon, to be weighed; but it was not weighed, for he came back after a quarter of an hour, and took some small things and had them put upon a cab, but the other boxes were left in deposit.' Then I took out four sous and showed them to the porter, and he led me to a certain hall, and showed me the luggage, which is that of the man we seek, and it is marked 'F.C.' So when I had seen, I made a show of being joyful, and gave the porter five sous instead of four. And he was very contented. This is the truth. So I say, he is still in Rome.”

”I told you so,” said Kalmon, looking at Marcello.

”Excuse me, but what did you tell the young gentleman?” asked Ercole suspiciously.

”That you would surely find out,” Kalmon answered.

”I have found out many things,” said Ercole gloomily.

His voice was very harsh just then, as if speaking so much had made him hoa.r.s.e.

”He took some of his things away because he meant to spend the night in Rome,” Kalmon said thoughtfully. ”He means to leave to-morrow, perhaps by an early train. If we do not find him to-night, we shall not catch him in Rome at all.”

”Surely,” said Ercole, ”but Rome is very big, and it is late.”

CHAPTER XVIII

It was still raining when the three men left the villa, and the night was very dark, for the young moon had already set. The wind howled round San Pietro in Montorio and the Spanish Academy, and whistled through the branches of the plane-trees along the winding descent, and furiously tore the withering leaves. They struck Ercole's weather-beaten face as he sat beside the coachman with bent head, with his soft hat pulled down over his eyes, and the rain dripped from his coa.r.s.e moustache. Kalmon and Marcello leaned as far back as they could, under the deep hood and behind the high leathern ap.r.o.n.

”There is some animal following us,” the cabman said to Ercole as they turned a corner.