than he wouldadmit.
"It means," I said, "that some secret is concealed in that narrow,romantic valley of the Serchio, and these are the directions for itsdiscovery. I know the winding river where through ages the water hascut deeply down into a rocky bed full of giant boulders and wild leapingtorrents and deep pools. Of the pointed Ponte del Diavolo are told manyquaint stories of the devil building the bridge and taking for his ownthe first living thing to pass over it, which proved to be a dog.Indeed," I added, "the spot is one of the wildest and most romantic inall rural Tuscany. Strange, too, the Fra Antonio should live in themonastery only three miles from the spot indicated."
"Who is Fra Antonio?" asked Hales, still gazing upon the cardsthoughtfully.
I explained, whereupon the old fellow smiled, and I felt certain that herecognised in the monk's description one of Blair's friends of daysbygone.
"Who actually wrote this record?" I inquired of him. "It was notBlair, that's plain."
"No," was his reply. "Now that it has been legally left to you by ourfriend, and that you have succeeded in deciphering it, I may as welltell you something more concerning it."
"Yes, do," we both cried eagerly with one breath.
"Well, it happened in this way," explained the thin old fellow, pressingdown the tobacco hard into his long clay. "Some years ago I was servingas first mate on the barque _Annie Curtis_ of Liverpool, engaged in theMediterranean fruit trade and running regularly between Naples, Smyrna,Barcelona, Algiers and Liverpool. Our crew was a mixed one of English,Spaniards and Italians, and among the latter was an old fellow namedBruno. He was a mysterious individual from Calabria, and among the crewit was whispered that he had once been the head of a noted band ofbrigands who had terrorised that most southern portion of Italy, and whohad only recently been exterminated by the Carabineers. The otherItalians nicknamed him Baffitone, which in their language is, I believe,Big Moustache. He was a hard worker, drank next to nothing, and wasapparently rather well-educated, for he spoke and wrote English quitewell, and further he was always worrying everybody to devise ciphers,the solution of which he would set himself in his leisure to puzzle out.One day, on a religious feast, made excuse by the Italians for aholiday, I found him in the forecastle writing something on a small packof cards. He tried to conceal what he was doing, but, my curiosityaroused, I detected at once how he had arranged them, and the very facttold me what a remarkably ingenious cipher he had discovered."
The old man paused for a moment, as though he hesitated to tell us thewhole truth. Presently when he had lit his pipe with a spill, heresumed, saying--
"I left the sea, came back to my wife here, and for fully six years sawnothing of the Italian until one day, looking well and prosperous in asuit of brand new clothes and a new hard hat, he called upon me. He wasstill on the _Annie Curtis_, but she was in dry dock, and therefore hewas, he said, having a bit of a spree ashore. He remained here with mefor two days, and with his little camera, evidently a fresh acquisitionhe snapshotted every conceivable object, including this house. Beforehe went away he took me into his confidence and told me that what hadbeen suspected of him on board the _Annie Curtis_ was true, that he wasnone other than the notorious Poldo Pensi, the brigand whose daring andferocity had long been chronicled in Italian song and story. He had,however, since the breaking up of his band, become a reformed character,and rather than profit by certain knowledge that he had obtained whilean outlaw, he worked for his living on board an English ship. Theknowledge, he said, was obtained from a certain Cardinal Sannini of theVatican whom he had held to ransom, and was of such a character that hemight become a rich man any day he wished, but having regard to the factthat the Government had offered a large reward for his capture eitherdead or alive, he deemed it best to conceal his identity and sail theseas. But he told me, here in this room, as we sat smoking together thenight before he departed, that the secret was on record, but in such amanner that any one discovering it would not be able to read it withoutpossessing the key to the cipher."
"Then he left it on these cards!" I cried, interrupting.
"Exactly. The secret of Cardinal Sannini, obtained by the notoriousoutlaw Poldo Pensi, whose terrible band ravaged half Italy twenty-fiveyears ago, and who compelled Pope Pius IX himself to pay tribute tothem, is written here--just as you have deciphered it."
"Is this man Pensi dead?" I inquired.
"Oh yes, he died and was buried at sea, somewhere off Lisbon, beforeBurton Blair came into possession of the cards. The secret, Iascertained, was wrung from Cardinal Sannini, who, while on his wayacross the wild, inhospitable country between Reggio and Gerace wasseized by Pensi and his gang, taken up to their stronghold--a smallmountain village about three miles from Nicastro--and there heldprisoner, a large ransom being about to be demanded of the Holy See.For certain reasons, it seemed, the wily old Cardinal in question didnot desire that the Vatican should be made aware of his capture,therefore he made it a condition of his release that he should reveal acertain very remarkable secret--the secret written upon the cards--whichhe did, and in exchange for which Pensi released him."
"But Sannini was one of the highest placed Cardinals in Rome," Iexclaimed. "Why, at the death of Pio Nono, he was believed to bedesigned as his successor to the Pontificate."
"True," remarked the old man, who seemed well versed in all the recenthistory of St. Peter's at Rome. "The secret divulged by the Cardinal isundoubtedly one of very great value, and he did so in order to save hisown reputation, I believe, for from what the outlaw told me, they haddiscovered that he was in the extreme south in direct opposition to thePope's orders, and in order to stir up some religious ill-feelingagainst Pio Nono. Hence Sannini, so trusted by His Holiness, wascompelled at all hazards to keep the facts of his capture an absolutesecret. Pensi related how, before releasing the Cardinal, he wenthimself in secret to a certain spot in Tuscany, and ascertained thatwhat the great ecclesiastic had divulged was absolutely the truth. Hewas then released, and given safe escort back to Cosenza, whence he tooktrain back to Rome."
"But how came Burton Blair possessed of the secret?" I inquiredeagerly.
"Ah!" remarked the old fellow, showing the palms of his hard brownhands, "that's the question. I know that upon these very cards, PoldoPensi, the ex-brigand of Calabria, inscribed the Cardinal's directionsin English. Indeed you will note that the wording betrays a foreigner.Those faded capital letters were traced by him on board the _AnnieCurtis_, and he certainly held the secret safely until his death. Whathe told me I never divulged until--well, until I was compelled to byBurton Blair on that night when he recognised this house from Poldo'sphotograph, and rediscovered me."
"Compelled you!" Reggie exclaimed. "How?"
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
"WORSE THAN DEATH."
The tall old fellow looked at me with his grey eyes and shook his head.
"Burton Blair knew rather too much," he answered evasively. "He had, itseemed, been raised to chief mate of the _Annie Curtis_, when I lefther, and Poldo, the man who had held dukes and cardinals and other greatmen to ransom, worked patiently under him. Then after a bad go of feverPoldo died, and strangely enough gave--so Blair declared--the pack ofcards with the secret into his hands. Dicky Dawson, however, who wasalso on board as bo'sun, and who had lived half his life on Italianbrigs in the Adriatic, declares that this story is untrue, and thatBlair stole the little bag containing the cards from beneath Poldo'spillow half an hour before he died. That, however, may be the truth, ora lie, yet the facts remain, that Poldo must have let out some portionof his secret in the delirium of the fever and that the little cardspassed into Blair's possession. Three weeks after the Italian's death,Blair, on landing at Liverpool, carrying with him the cards and thesnap-shot photograph, set out on that very long and fatiguing journey upand down all the roads in England, in order to find me, and learn fromme the key to the secret of the outlaws which I held."
"And when at last he found you, what then?"
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"He alleged solemnly that Bruno had given it to him as a dying gift, andthat his reason for seeking me was because the old outlaw had, before hedied, requested to see the photograph from his sea-chest, and lookingupon it for a long time, had said to himself reflectively in Italian,`There lives in that house the only man who knows my secret.' For thatreason Blair evidently secured the picture after the Italian's death.On arrival here he showed me the cards, and promised me a thousandpounds if I would reveal the Italian's confidences. As the man wasdead, I saw no reason to withhold them, and in exchange for a promise topay the amount I told him what he wanted to know, and among othermatters explained the rearrangement of the cards, so that he
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