Part 41 (1/2)
”I have no wish to hear you. I only demand the reason you are here--a guest in the Minister's house.”
”You surely know,” he laughed airily. ”Am I not to marry Mademoiselle Marie?”
”You have schemed to do so, I know.”
”Well, well,” he remarked philosophically, ”we are both schemers--are we not, my dear George? In scheming, however, so very little is certain.
But in this world one thing is certain--namely, that Mademoiselle Marie will become Comtesse Dubard at three o'clock on the day after to-morrow.”
The two men were standing quite close to each other, and in that grey light could readily watch the expression of each other's faces.
”It is your intention, no doubt,” answered Macbean. ”But during the month I have been in Rome I have not been idle. I have learned how Angelo Borselli still holds you in the hollow of his hand, and how cleverly he has made you his cat's-paw to ruin and disgrace Morini.
Listen, and if I speak an untruth deny it. Ever since the Sazarac affair you and Borselli have actively conspired against Camillo Morini.
The Under-Secretary, with your a.s.sistance, had arranged a political _coup_, but in order to compel Miss Mary to give her consent to this scandalous marriage, you have induced Borselli to stay his hand. You are forcing her to marry you, in order to save her father from ruin and probably from suicide, well knowing, however, what Borselli's intentions are, as soon as she is your wife and you have obtained her _dot_! You intend--”
”Look here, hound! Did you ask me to come here to insult me?” cried the Frenchman in fury, advancing a pace in a threatening manner.
”You have said you have something to say to me,” was his response. ”But before you say it, I wish to make plain what are my intentions.”
”And what are they, pray?”
”I intend to prevent Mary Morini making this sacrifice,” was his quiet, determined reply.
”You love her yourself! Friends of mine have watched you in Rome.
Although I was absent, I knew quite well that you were in her father's service; but believe me, I was in no manner anxious, first because of your menial position--a mere secretary--and secondly, because of the past.”
”The past!” cried Macbean. ”The past! Surely you ought not to speak of the past--you, to whom the family of Morini, the father of the innocent woman you have schemed to marry, owes the peril in which he now exists.
You shall never marry her!” he added angrily. ”Never!”
There was a brief silence, then Dubard responded with a defiant laugh.
”You cannot prevent it, my friend.”
”But I will.”
”And expose yourself?”
”I shall at least expose a man who has marked down a pure and innocent woman as his victim.”
Dubard laughed again, saying--
”Of course. You've fallen in love with her, and are jealous that she should become my wife!”
”I am her friend,” he declared. ”And I will protect her.”
”And allow the charges to be made against her father.”
”They will be brought whether you marry her or not--you know that quite well. I have not been private secretary to Morini without discovering the insecurity of his official position, and the deadly rivalry and crafty cunning of Angelo Borselli. Again, answer me one question--why is Felice Solaro, your friend, condemned as a traitor?”
”He doesn't concern me in the least,” was the other's reply.