The Mysterious Mr. Miller
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theChamber. Only two days ago I had read telegrams from Rome in themorning papers saying that there were serious charges against theMinister of appropriating the public funds while in office, and that theGovernment were considering what steps they should take for hisprosecution.
I had never connected the notorious Minister of Justice Nardini with thestranger who had died so suddenly. Yet had not Lucie Miller told methat he was a person well-known in Italy?
"He was a thief who absconded, that's very evident," Sammy remarkeddryly. "We shall perhaps find something interesting presently."
The lawyer Price and myself were seated at the table in the room wherethe ex-Minister had died, and we both carefully examined paper afterpaper, I reading aloud a rough translation.
Many of the documents were, I recognised, of extreme importance to theGovernment. Some were the official records of sentences pronounced bythe Tribunal upon various persons and had evidently been extracted fromthe archives of the Ministry.
"I wonder what he intended to do with these?" Price remarked presently."Perhaps his idea was to sell them to the persons who had beencondemned to enable them to destroy the record."
"Or perhaps he held them for the purposes of levying blackmail?" Sammysuggested. "No man, if he were leading an honest life, would like tohave his police record hawked about."
"But here," I said, holding up a paper, "here are the confidential notesof the President of the Court of Assizes at Milan concerning two veryimportant cases, showing the lines on which the prosecution was to beconducted. These would surely be of the utmost value to the prisoners,for upon them they could form a complete defence. The prosecution is apolitical one, and the weak points in the evidence are indicated andcommented upon. Yes," I added, "all these official documents have beencarried off because they could easily be turned into money. We shall becompelled to restore them to the Italian Government."
"His Excellency, when he fled from Rome, took care to carry away all hecould that was of value," remarked the solicitor. "Fate, however, veryquickly overtook him before he had time to negotiate any of thedocuments."
The letters occupied us some considerable time. They were in twopackets secured by broad elastic bands, and all were, without exception,letters from poor unfortunate victims who were in his clutchesfinancially and who begged for further time in which to pay. Some ofthem, written in illiterate calligraphy, were heartrending appeals forwife, family, honour--even life. They were the collection of ahard-hearted man whose delight it was to crush and oppress rich and pooralike. The letters showed that. More than one was full of bitterreproach and withering sarcasm, revealing plainly that what the Englishgirl had said concerning him was the actual truth.
And yet in my short acquaintance with him prior to his decease I hadnever dreamed that his character was as such.
Nevertheless at that moment, as I afterwards discovered, the Italianpress was full of bitter abuse of the man who for the past four years orso had been one of the most popular in Italy. But he had been foundout, and in ignorance of his death they were now hounding him down andappealing to the Government to arrest and prosecute him.
We had nearly completed our investigation, Price taking a carefulinventory of the contents of the portmanteaux, when I discovered anenvelope in which was a large yellow printed form filled in with aquantity of microscopic writing.
Within was a folded sheet of grey notepaper--a letter in Italian which Iread eagerly, holding my breath, for what was contained there staggeredme.
My companions watched my change of countenance in wonder. And well,indeed, they might, for it was the appeal of a desperate woman, a letterthat revealed to me an amazing truth--a letter signed "Lucie."
And when I had finished reading it, I sat there, staring as the writtenlines danced before my eyes, amazed, unable to utter a single word inresponse to their questions.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
DESCRIBES SOME CONFIDENTIAL DOCUMENTS.
I had no right to divulge the girl's secret to my two companions. Irecognised this in an instant.
She had told me in confidence, and here was plain proof of what she hadexplained.
"What is it?" asked Price. "Something that surprises you?"
"Well, yes," I answered as carelessly as I could. "It's a letter from awoman."
"From Lucie Miller!" cried Sammy, whose sharp eyes had caught thesignature. "What does she say? Tell us," he asked eagerly.
"No," I said firmly. "Recollect that whatever or whoever this man is,he is dead. Therefore let his private affairs rest. It is surely noconcern of ours."
"No--of yours, perhaps," my friend laughed. "Remember what I told youabout her."
"I recollect every word."
"And yet you are all the time anxious to meet her again, Godfrey! Doyou know, I really believe the girl has captivated you--like she has somany others."
"You don't take me for a fool--do you?" I snapped, rather annoyed."She was in distress and I am wondering if she has yet extricatedherself."
Price made inquiry as to whom we were discussing, but in a few quicksentences I satisfied his curiosity.
"I should be very sorry if she ever comes here again," declared Sammy."I have no wish to meet her. The memory of my poor friend Carrera isfar too painful."
"You believe, then, that his death was due to her--that she induced himto leave his jacket upon the lawn?"
"I make no direct charge, my dear fellow. I only say that she'sdaughter of one of the most ingenious `crooks' in Europe--a member, ifnot the actual leader, of one of the cleverest of the internationalgangs. They are possessed of ample means, and the police are no matchfor their ingenuity."
"You have your opinion, my dear old chap; I have mine," I said, glancinground the room and recollecting vividly how she had stood there andlooked upon the white drawn face of the man who had refused to extricateher from her deadly peril.
He took up the yellow paper, glanced it over, and put it down againwithout being able to make anything out of it.
I said I would translate it later, and placed it aside, together withthe strange letter of appeal.
Neither of my companions was very well satisfied, I could see. Theywished to know what the mysterious Lucie had written, while I, on mypart, was equally determined not to tell them. It was surely not fairto her to divulge what had been meant for Nardini's eye alone;therefore, I intended to keep possession of the letter, and to hand itto her to destroy, should we ever meet again.
Now that I recall those hours following the stranger's decease and theEnglish girl's mysterious visit I cannot even now explain why I sosuddenly commenced to take an interest in her. She was beautiful, itwas true, but man-of-the-world that I was, and a constant wandereracross the face of Europe, I knew dozens of women quite as graceful, ifnot even more beautiful. Besides, there was the dark stigma upon herwhich Sammy had alleged, and which, by what I had now discovered, seemedfully borne out.
No. I think the mystery of the affair was responsible for my undueinterest in her. Sammy, of course, put it down to her personalattractions, but he was decidedly and distinctly in error. She had toldme of her perilous position, and of the dead man's refusal to assisther. Therefore it was but natural that I was curious to know how shefared.
Again, was she not in some mysterious way acquainted with a secret of myown life? Perhaps it was also that fact which caused me a longing toknow the real truth concerning her.
There was certainly nothing of the adventuress about her. She wasquiet, refined, graceful, neatly dressed, and spoke with easy, well-bredaccents that were essentially those of a lady.
I do not think my worst enemy has ever declared me to be impressionablewhere women were concerned, for truth to tell, an incident that hadoccurred four years before had soured my life, and caused my resolutionto ever remain a bachelor.
Ah! It was all over--the old story of the mad passion of a man for onewho proved--well, unworthy. Ah! how I had adored my Ella; how Iworshipped
the very ground upon which she trod; how I would haveconquered the very world for her sake. Yes. I saw her now, so young inher white muslin dress with her gold-brown hair falling upon hershoulders, her laughing blue eyes, and the red rose in her breast as wewalked that June afternoon along those white English cliffs with theblue Channel at our feet. That never-to-be-forgotten afternoon wepledged our love, our hot lips met in their first fierce caress, ourhearts beat in unison. She was my all in all. For months we lived in aworld that was entirely our own--a bright rosy world of high ideals andineffable sweetness, for we loved, ay we loved in a manner, I believe,that man and maiden never loved before. Even the remembrance of it nowwas sweet and yet--ah! so intensely bitter.
But why need I trouble you with that incident of long ago? Suffice itto say that