Behind the Throne

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by William Le Queux

the horrors of Gorgona."

  The pale-faced man shook his unkempt head sorrowfully, his lips pressedtogether, his eyes upon hers.

  "No. You can never secure my release," he declared, with despair."They dare not give me my liberty for their own sakes. Jules Dubard andthat Englishman George Macbean will take good care that I never comeforth to denounce them."

  "George Macbean?" she gasped open-mouthed, all the colour fading fromher cheeks. "Do you know him? Is he actually one of those who isresponsible for this?"

  For answer, the man behind the bars clenched his teeth and nodded in theaffirmative.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

  THE CAPTAIN IS OUTSPOKEN.

  "But tell me," cried Mary, utterly amazed at the unhappy man's startlingallegations, "do you actually declare that Dubard and Mr Macbean haveconspired in order to throw the opprobrium upon you?"

  "I do," he answered in a low, hard tone. "I am convinced of it.Macbean is an Englishman living in London--secretary to an Englishdeputy named Morgan-Mason."

  "He is a friend of mine," she remarked quietly. "I know him quitewell."

  "Then do not trust him," Solaro urged. "He is the--" But he hesitated,as though fearing to make any direct charge against one who was herfriend.

  "The what?" she inquired eagerly.

  For a few moments he remained silent.

  "He is the man who, with Dubard, was the cause of my downfall," heresponded, although from his hesitating tone she felt assured that thosewords were not what he had first intended to utter.

  "And Dubard?" she asked, her face now very grave.

  "What use is it to discuss either of them?" he said bitterly. "I amtheir victim--that is all."

  "But with what motive?" she asked, bewildered at this revelation. "Whatconnection can Mr Macbean possibly have with these false scandalouscharges against you?"

  "Ah! the motive is more than I can tell," he declared. "I can onlysurmise it."

  "But there surely must be some motive!" she remarked, at the same timerecollecting what she had learnt, that the information furnished byDubard formed the basis of the charges intended to be levelled by theSocialists against her father.

  "I have never had an opportunity of ascertaining it," he said. "Iwould, however, desire to warn you most strongly against that manMacbean."

  Mary remained silent. What he had said puzzled and mystified her. Hiswords were not prompted by motives of jealousy. That was impossible,for he was unaware of Macbean's presence in Rome. As far as she knew,the two men had never been acquainted--the one an officer in garrison inthe Alps, and the other living in far-off London. She endeavoured toinduce him to speak more plainly, but it was evident that heracknowledgment that Macbean was her friend prevented him from openinghis mind concerning him.

  All her sympathies being with the imprisoned man, she felt a distinctsuspicion arising within her concerning the young Englishman.--Shewondered whether after all he had really schemed to obtain anappointment in the Ministry; if his present position was only infurtherance of some sinister object?

  She spoke of Dubard, but the prisoner was equally silent concerning him.

  "What I can tell you about either of them amounts to nothing withoutproof, and without my liberty I cannot obtain that. They know it!" hesaid angrily. "They know that while I am here, in prison, my lips aresealed!"

  "But it is infamous!" exclaimed the red-faced old general. "If you werethe victim of a plot laid by these two fellows, whoever they are, thematter ought to be sifted to the bottom. I don't believe you areguilty, Solaro! I told His Excellency the Minister so!"

  "Ah, my dear general, you have been my best friend," declared the mannow clothed in sacking in lieu of a uniform. "But your efforts must allbe unavailing. They are sending me to the loneliness of Gorgona, thatplace where many a better man than myself has been driven insane bysolitude. They know that on Gorgona I shall not live very long--indeed,they will take very good care of that."

  "They--who are they?" inquired Mary quickly.

  "My enemies."

  "Mr Macbean and Dubard, you mean?"

  "No, others--others I need not name," he responded vaguely, with acareless shrug of his shoulders.

  "But if you are the victim of a plot it must have been a most elaborateone, for the mass of evidence against you seems overwhelming. Whatobject could the conspirators have had in view? Were they friends ofyours?"

  "Yes--once. Their object was probably not of their own--but that ofothers," he added.

  His words left the impression upon her that his conviction was part ofthe elaborate scheme of Angelo Borselli. And yet was not that very mannow urging her to secure his release!

  The affair was increased in mystery a thousandfold.

  "Then if Mr Macbean was only slightly known to you why should he haveplotted to secure your ruin and imprisonment?" she queried in eagerness.

  "As I have already said, they were both in peril as long as I was atliberty. It was to their own interests--indeed for their own safety--that I should be sent here."

  "What do they fear?"

  "They fear what I could reveal--the facts that I could prove if I werenot held here a prisoner," he said bitterly.

  "And would those facts be strange ones?"

  "They would be startling--they would create a sensation throughoutItaly. They would throw a new light on certain affairs connected withthe Ministry of War that would come as a thunderclap upon the people."

  "You defied the Minister, remember," his general remarked gravely.

  "I know. I lost my head. I broke my sword and threw the pieces at hisfeet in defiance. I was foolish--ah! very foolish. Only I was angry athis refusal to order a revision of my trial."

  "Yes," the general admitted. "You have prejudiced yourself in HisExcellency's eyes, I fear. Your indignation was but natural, but it wasill-advised at that moment. The Minister Morini is not the man to brookdefiance in that manner."

  "But I do defy him still!" cried the desperate man, turning to thetragic figure in black. "Although he is your father, signorina, Irepeat that he has done me an injustice--and that injustice is becausehe, like the others, fears to give me my liberty!"

  "But if you were released--if I could manage to obtain for you apardon--would you make the revelations of which you have spoken?"

  For some minutes he was silent, thinking deeply, apparently reflectingupon the consequences of speaking the truth. Then he answered--

  "No. I think not."

  "Why not?"

  "Because--well, because there are one or two facts of which I have noabsolute proof."

  "But you are certain of Dubard's connection with the false chargesagainst you?"

  "Positive. He arranged with Filomena Nodari for _my_ betrayal."

  "But why? I cannot see the motive, and yet he must have had one!"

  "In his own interests, as well as those of the Englishman."

  "You mean Macbean?"

  "Yes--the betrayer!"

  Mary's heart beat quickly. She could not grasp his meaning, yet herefused to tell her plainly the whole of the strange circumstances,apparently fearing to give her pain because she had declared herself tobe a friend of the Englishman. He was, of course, in ignorance of theirfriendship, just as he was in ignorance of her engagement to JulesDubard.

  She was in a dilemma--a dilemma absolute and complete. What Borsellihad declared--namely, that the unfortunate captain was in possession ofsome facts which he would prove if he regained his liberty--seemed to bethe truth. Yet if she secured his liberty by pressing her father topardon him, she would only be deliberately giving to his politicalenemies a weapon whereby they might hound him from office. While,further, he refused to make her a direct promise to tell the truth, ormake the revelations--even if liberated.

  What could she do? How could she act? His allegations held her amazed,speechless. He had declared himself to be the victim of the ingeniousconspiracy formed by the Frenchman and by George M
acbean--the latter, ofall men! The whole affair was an enigma that was inexplicable.

  That Macbean had entered into a plot against him was utterly beyond hercomprehension. He was essentially a Londoner, and had surely nointerest whatsoever in the Alpine defences of Italy! Dubard wascertainly his friend. Had he not, indeed, told her so? He had, only afortnight before, expressed a hope that Dubard would soon return fromthe Pyrenees.

  And yet that broken, desperate man--the man with whom she had had thatpleasant flirtation during one Roman season--had fallen their victim!

  But if so, why was Borselli now anxious that he should be freed in orderto make his revelations against the

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