peril so deadly that she was hourly prepared to take her own lifewithout compunction and without regret.
"But all this astounds me," I said, in deep sympathy. "I am yourfriend, Miss Miller," I went on, taking her slim hand in mine andholding it as I looked her straight in the face. "This man,Gordon-Wright, is, we find, our mutual enemy. Cannot you explain to methe whole circumstances? Our interests are mutual. Let us uniteagainst this man who holds you, as well as my loved one, in his banalpower! Tell me the truth. You have been compromised. How?"
She paused, her hand trembled in mine, and great tears coursed slowlydown her white cheeks. She was reflecting whether she dare reveal to methe ghastly truth.
Her thin lips trembled, but at first no word escaped them. Laughter andthe sound of gaiety came up from the promenade below.
I stood there in silence in the soft fading light await her confession--confession surely of one of the strangest truths that has ever been toldby the lips of any woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE VOICE IN THE STREET.
At last she spoke.
But in those moments of reflection her determination had apparentlybecome more fixed than ever.
Either she feared to confess lest she should imperil her father, or elseshe became seized with a sense of shame that would not allow her tocondemn herself.
"No," she said, in a firm voice, "I have already told you sufficient,Mr Leaf. My private affairs cannot in the least interest you."
My heart sank within me, for I had hoped that she would reveal to me thetruth. I was fighting in the dark an enemy whose true strength I couldnot gauge. The slightest ray of light would be of enormous advantage tome, yet she steadily withheld it, even though she lived in hourlydanger, knowing not when, by force of circumstances, she might be drivento the last desperate step.
She was a woman of strong character, to say the least, although sosweet, graceful and altogether charming.
I was disappointed at her blank refusal, and she saw it.
"If it would assist you to extricate Ella, I would tell you," sheassured me quickly. "But it would not."
"Any fact to the scoundrel's detriment is of interest to me," Ideclared.
"But you have already said that you yourself are a witness against him,"she remarked. "What more do you want? The evidence which you and yourfriend whom you say he robbed could give would be sufficient to send himto prison, would it not?"
"I know. But I must prove more. Remember he has entrapped my Ella.She is struggling helplessly in the web which he has woven about her."
"Much as I regret all the circumstances, Mr Leaf, I can see that it isagainst my own interests if I say anything further," was her calm reply."I have already given you an outline of the strange combination ofcircumstances and the unscrupulousness of two villains which hasresulted in my present terrible position of doubt in the present anduncertainty of the future. The story, if I related it, would sound toostrange to you to be the truth. And yet it only illustrates the evilthat men do, even in these prosaic modern days."
"Then you intend to again leave me in ignorance, even though my love'shappiness is at stake?"
"My own life is also at stake."
"And yet you refuse to allow me to assist you--you decline to tell methe truth by which I could confound this man who is your bitterestenemy!"
"Because it is all hopeless," was her answer. "Had Nardini but spoken,I could have defied him. His refusal has sealed my doom," she added, ina voice of blank despair.
"But your words are so mysterious I can't understand them!" I declared,filled with chagrin at her refusal to make any statement. She was infear of me, that was evident. Why, I could not for the life of mediscern.
"I have merely told you the brief facts. The details you would find farmore puzzling."
"Then to speak frankly, although you have never openly quarrelled withthe lieutenant, you fear him?"
"That is so. He can denounce me--I mean he can make a terrible chargeagainst me which I am unable to refute," she admitted breathlessly.
"And yet you will not allow me to help you! You disagree with my planto denounce the scoundrel and let him take his well-deserved punishment!I must say I really can't understand you," I declared.
"Perhaps not to-day. But some day you will discern the reason why Idecline to confess to you the whole truth," was her firm reply.
And I looked at her slim tragic figure in silence and in wonder.
What was the end to be? Was she aware that her father was the leader ofthat association of well-dressed thieves, or was she in ignorance of it?That was a question I could not yet decide.
I thought of Ella--my own Ella. It was she whom I had determined tosave. That was my duty; a duty to perform before all others, and indefiance of all else. She loved me. She had admitted that. ThereforeI would leave no stone unturned on her behalf, no matter how it mightaffect the stubbornly silent girl at my side.
I saw that I could not serve them both. Ella was my chief thought. Sheshould, in future, be my only thought.
"I much regret all this," I said to Lucie somewhat coldly. "And pardonme for saying so, but I think that if you had spoken frankly thisevening much of the trouble in the future would be saved. But as youare determined to say nothing, I am simply compelled to act as I thinkbest in Ella's interests."
"Act just as you will, Mr Leaf," was her rather defiant response. "Itrust, however, you will do nothing rash nor injudicious--nothing thatmay injure her, instead of benefit her. As for myself, to hope toassist me is utterly out of the question. The die is cast. Nardiniintended that disgrace and death should fall upon me, or he would havesurely spoken," and sighing hopelessly she added: "I have only to awaitthe end, and pray that it will not be long in coming. This suspense Icannot bear much longer, looking as I daily do into the open gravewhich, on the morrow, may be mine. Heaven knows the tortures I endure,the bitter regrets, the mad hatred, the wistful longing for life andhappiness, those two things that never now can be mine. Place yourselfin my position, and try and imagine that whatever may be your life,there is but one sudden and shameful end--suicide."
"You look upon things in far too morbid a light," I declared, not,however, without some sympathy. "There is a bright lining to everycloud' the old adage says. Try and look forward to that."
She shook her head despairingly.
"No," she answered, with a short bitter laugh. "Proverbs are for theprosperous--not for the condemned."
I remained with her for some time longer, trying in vain to induce herto reveal the truth. In her stubborn refusal I recognised herdetermination to conceal some fact concerning her father, yet whethershe knew the real truth or not I was certainly unable to determine.
The revelation that Ella was acquainted with Gordon-Wright alias theLieutenant held her utterly confounded. She seemed to discern in it anincreased peril for herself, and yet she would tell me nothing--absolutely nothing.
The situation was tantalising--nay maddening. I intended to save mywell-beloved at all costs, yet how was I to do so?
To denounce the adventurer would, she had herself declared, only bringruin upon her. Therefore my hands were tied and the cowardly blackguardmust triumph.
The soft Italian twilight fell, and the street lamps along the broadpromenade below were everywhere springing up, while to the right thehigh stone lighthouse, that beacon to the mariner in the Mediterranean,shot its long streams of white light far across the darkening sea.
From one of the open-air _cafe-chantants_ in the vicinity came up thesound of light music and the trill of a female voice singing a French_chansonette_, for a rehearsal was in progress. And again a youthpassing chanted gaily one of those _stornelli d'amore_ which is heardeverywhere in fair Tuscany, in the olive groves, in the vineyards, inthe streets, in the barracks, that ancient half dirge, half-plaintivesong, the same that has been sung for ages and ages by the youths inlove:--
Mazzo di fiori! S
i vede il viso, e non si vede il core Tu se' un bel viso, ma non m'innamori.
Lucie heard the words and smiled.
The song just described my position at that moment. I saw her face butcould not see her heart. She was beautiful, but not my love.
And as the voice died away we heard the words:--
Fiume di Lete! Come la calamita mi tirate, E mi fate venir dove velete.
Old Marietta, the Tuscan sewing-woman, entered and lit the gas. Shelooked askance at me, wondering why I remained there so long I expect.
"It is growing late," I exclaimed in Italian; "I must go. It is yourdinner-hour," and glancing round the room, carpetless, as all Italianrooms are in summer, I saw that it was cheaply furnished with thatinartistic taste which told me at once that neither she nor her
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