denounce him as theinstigator of the assassination of Sazarac, and that with my release his_coup_ could be effected against your father after your marriage withhis accomplice. It is, indeed, intended to strike the blow at the firstsitting of the Chamber next month."
"Then I think we are now fully prepared to combat it," remarked thetall, grey-haired Minister in a cool tone, as he glanced at theSicilian. "When I received the fifty thousand francs of the sum whichwas to have been paid from the secret service fund to General Sazarac, Iwas led to believe that, owing to a certain plan not being forthcoming,only half the sum had been paid to him. I had no knowledge of a tragedyuntil long afterwards, when, to my horror, I discovered for myself thatthere had been some foul play, and that I was morally responsible as anaccessory."
"I am not to blame altogether," declared the Frenchman desperately."Borselli sent me the cognac from Rome already prepared, and accordingto his directions I substituted the bottle in the Englishman's room andat the same time abstracted the general's flask from his holster. Ialso concealed, at Angelo's suggestion, the banker's draft in Macbean'swriting-case."
"You scoundrel!" cried George, turning upon the white-faced criminalwhom his well-beloved had so narrowly escaped. "And you, Borselli, havesent your spy, that woman Nodari, to investigate Mr Morgan-Mason'spapers because you fear he holds something that incriminates you?"
"Silence!" cried the Minister, holding up his hand. "There must be norecriminations here in my house. I have been misled by Borselli as tothis man's position and antecedents. The wedding will not take place,after these scandalous revelations, but there is still one duty beforeme, as Minister of War," and turning to his writing-table he took twosheets of paper, and upon each he scribbled some hurried words. One hehanded to Borselli, who glanced at it and threw it from him with animprecation.
It was his dismissal from the office of Under-Secretary of War.
The other, which he handed to Solaro, caused him to cry aloud with joy,for it was his reinstatement in the army and a declaration of hisinnocence of the crime of which he had been charged.
Then Solaro unlocked the door, and turning to the Sicilian and Dubard,who were standing together pale, crestfallen, and ashamed, he said--
"Go, you pair of assassins. Don't either of you put foot in Italyagain, or I'll take it upon myself to prosecute you for your vile plotand my own false imprisonment. Then, at your trial, the whole affairwill come out. You hear?"
"Yes!" muttered Dubard, with flashing eyes. "We hear your threats."
And in silence both the elegant bridegroom and his dark-faced friendpassed from the study and out of the house, never to re-enter it.
Then, when they had gone, Mary, a pale, tragic figure in her bridaldress, flung herself into George's ready arms, crying--
"You have saved me--saved me!" and she burst into tears of joy, theoutpourings of an overburdened heart.
For the first time Camillo Morini guessed the truth, yet then and there,before Felice Solaro, whose statement had liberated both of them, GeorgeMacbean openly confessed his great passion for her, a declaration ofpurest and strongest affection, of which she, by her own action, hadalready acknowledged reciprocation.
And so the Minister, on recovering from his surprise, gladly gave thehand of his daughter to the gallant, upright man who had placed himselfin such jeopardy in order to save her and to unmask the conspirators,while Felice Solaro was the first to offer the pair his heartycongratulations. Hand in hand they stood, content in each other's love.
In order to preserve appearances, it was arranged that Mary should feigna sudden illness to necessitate the postponement of the wedding, andwhile there was great disappointment among the guests and the curiouscrowds of villagers, there was, in secret, a great rejoicing in MadameMorini's little boudoir when the glad news was revealed to her.
The pealing bells were stopped. Mary had thrown off her wedding-gownmerrily, and when she tossed her orange-blossoms into the grate of theboudoir, she said to George laughingly--
"When we marry privately in London next month, I shall require no whitesatin--a travelling gown will be sufficient, will it not?"
"Yes, dearest," he said, kissing her fondly upon the lips, now that shewas really his very own. "The dress does not matter when the union ofour hearts is so firm and true. You know how fondly and passionately Ilove you, and how I have suffered in silence at the thought of yourterrible sacrifice."
"I know," she answered softly, looking up into his eyes trustingly. "Iknow, George--only too well! Ah! you cannot think how happy I am, nowthat it is all past--and you are mine?" And then she raised her sweetface and kissed him of her own accord upon the cheek.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
A WOMAN'S FREEDOM.
Within a month of the abandoned wedding at Orton, Mary Morini and GeorgeMacbean were married quietly at St James's Church, in Piccadilly, theRev Basil Sinclair assisting, and Billy Grenfell, as full of his bluffhumour as ever, acting as best man, while among the various handsomepresents the happy pair received was an acceptable cheque from MrMorgan-Mason for ten thousand pounds--the sum he had offered to Georgefor information as to the actual means by which his brother-in-law metwith his death.
The millionaire was determined to place the assassins on their trial,and notwithstanding Morini's efforts to preserve secrecy regarding theaffair, he actually gave information to the Chief of Police in Mentone.By some secret means, Angelo Borselli obtained knowledge of this fact,and on the very morning of George's wedding day he was found in a roomin an obscure hotel in Brussels, quite dead, having committed suicide byswallowing some arsenical poison, probably the same as that used in thecognac which caused the unfortunate general's tragic end.
Felice Solaro was soon gazetted major, and is now transferred to thegaiety of Naples. As for Dubard, he did not long enjoy his freedom, forhe was arrested as a traitor by the French police while passing throughBordeaux, and is now spending the remainder of his days on the penalisland of New Caledonia.
George Macbean and his charming wife still live in Rome, and all in theEternal City know them well by sight. The Cavaliere Macbean has beenpromoted to a very high and responsible position in the Ministry of War,but last year Camillo Morini, owing to failing health, resigned office,greatly to the regret of his new sovereign, King Victor Emmanuel, and ofthe gallant Italian people at large.
But before resigning he endeavoured by every means in his power to atonefor the peculations of his earlier career, and by selling his palace andother properties, he paid back the whole of the money he hadappropriated.
San Donato, the old-world estate above Florence, is, however, still his,and there, enjoying the greatest fame perhaps of any living Italian, heis spending with his wife the evening of his days.
Orton Court is still rented by him, and each summer they go there withMary and her husband. But the village is still mystified why Miss Marydid not marry the Frenchman, and whether, after all, there was not ascene on that memorable day when the wedding was so abruptly postponed.
But in her fine dark eyes they now see the light of perfect love andsweet contentment, and they know too well the sterling worth and kindlyheart of the man who is her husband.
In Orton village in summer, however, perhaps the most popular andimportant personage of any is the little round-faced, chubby boy, who sooften sits between the happy pair when on bright afternoons they driveout in the smart victoria.
Much as she prefers England, Madame Macbean is compelled, on account ofher husband's official position, to still move in Roman society, where,for her great personal beauty and the sweetness of her character, she isthe most admired of women in the Quirinale set, that bright andbrilliant circle of Italy's bluest blood--"The World behind the Throne."
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Behind the Throne Page 52