“You have,” Raphael said grimly. “That Gregorio is a giant and quite mad!”
“I know,” she said wearily. “He questioned me and threatened Irma would die if I didn’t talk.”
“I heard your scream,” Raphael said. “I rushed down the corridor and found an old man with a thin beard standing staring at the dungeon entrance. I threw him aside and went on in.”
“He was with Gregorio. One of them!”
“I didn’t know!”
She looked around grimly. “They’re both gone now. How are you?”
“I’ll manage,” Raphael said bleakly as he tightened his cravat and rearranged his clothing a little.
“There he comes!” Della said suddenly, seeing the little priest hurrying up toward them.
“A bit late!” her companion said with disgust.
“I’ll go talk to him,” she said. “You wait here.” And she was already on her way to meet Father Anthony.
When she reached him, his oval face was purplish and he was struggling for breath from his exertions. He said, “I’ve run most of the way.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “Catch your breath.”
He placed a hand on his heart. “I should not do this sort of rushing.”
“I intended to wait for you.”
“But I was late.”
She said, “Just as well. I think there was trap set for us.”
“A trap?”
“Yes,” she said. “Down below in the old prison section. Gregorio and another, older man abducted me and tried to torture me into talking.”
“All this happened before I reached here?” he asked in an incredulous tone.
“I think someone found out about our rendezvous and planned to attack us.”
“How did you escape them?”
She smiled. “I brought along a bodyguard, Prince Raphael.”
“That was very wise,” the old priest said, still having trouble with his breathing. “I’m sure he was a good deal more help than I would have been. You were lucky it happened before I arrived.”
“What now?” she asked.
“There is a small café back down the hill,” Father Anthony said. “Let us have coffee there.”
So it was that ten minutes later all three were seated at a sidewalk table of the small café. Prince Raphael had washed his face in cold water and it looked considerably less battered. He was in an interested mood as the little priest told Della of his progress.
Father Anthony said, “Would you believe it? I actually have been in the presence of Brizzi.”
Della asked, “What sort of person is he?”
“Very ordinary except for one thing,” Father Anthony said. “He has an obsession with his reputation as a master thief. He is enraged by the loss of the Madonna after having cleverly stolen it.”
Prince Raphael said, “The man must be reasonable. Even if the Madonna was sent to Miss Standish, she never received it.”
“Were there not so much at stake I think Brizzi would drop the whole thing,” Father Anthony said. “But he thinks his reputation is resting on how this turns out as well as a fortune in precious gems which he is loath to lose.”
Della said, “Perhaps if I could talk to him in person he would listen to me.”
“I doubt it,” Father Anthony said.
“Did you get anywhere with him?”
The priest said, “I made him promise not to harm your sister in any way. And I found out she is hidden here in Rome somewhere.”
Raphael asked, “Any approximate idea of the location? Was it here in the center of the city or on the outskirts?”
“Brizzi is a wily one,” the fat priest said. “He did not give me a hint of where she might be.”
“I’m amazed you were able to reach him at all,” Della said.
“Only because I am a priest,” he replied. “Brizzi likes to keep in good with men of the cloth.”
Raphael said wryly, “He apparently wasn’t all that worried about his accomplice, Brother Louis. He either killed him or had him killed.”
Father Anthony said, “I dispute that. I say that the unfortunate man was killed by someone else.”
“Did Brizzi know about it?” she asked.
“He was shocked to learn it,” Father Anthony said. “And I do not think his concern was mere playacting.”
“Who else would want to murder Brother Louis?” Raphael wanted to know.
“Many are involved in this game of trying to locate the jeweled Madonna,” the priest said. “I think he was killed by someone who received certain information from him which he didn’t want passed on to anyone else.”
“What is Brizzi’s next move?” Della asked.
“He is trying to search out the thief of thieves who stole the Madonna from him and who supposedly passed it on to you. He is still dubious of your insistence that you do not have it.”
She asked, “How can I convince him?”
“Give me a day or two more,” the priest said. “I will arrange a meeting with you.”
“Where?” she asked.
“I will think of a place,” he said. “Certainly not the Mamertine prison!”
Raphael frowned. “Which brings up the question of how did Gregorio and that old-man accomplice know Della was to be at the prison.”
“A good question,” Father Anthony said. “In my opinion you were followed here. They have been waiting for the right chance to get at you.”
“It’s possible,” she said.
“I don’t know,” Raphael complained. “It seems more likely someone told them we’d be there. Or at least Della would be.”
“Brizzi suspects her of having the Madonna,” the old priest said. “It may be that I made the mistake of saying where I was meeting Miss Standish. In that case he could have sent those evil people to harass you!”
“That sounds more like it,” the Prince said.
“I shall be more careful in future,” Father Anthony said. “I believe I have a clue as to where the Madonna went.”
“Oh?” she said.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m sure Count Barsini was mixed up in its theft. And since Brother Louis and Gregorio both have been henchmen of Barsini it is possible they were part of the double cross which took the Madonna from Brizzi.”
Della said, “You think Brother Louis may have been playing a double role, working for Brizzi and Barsini at the same time. That is likely why he was murdered.”
“I suspect so,” Father Anthony said. “He likely passed the Madonna on to Barsini, expecting a big share of it. Once Barsini had the treasure he coldly ordered Brother Louis killed.”
“Or Brizzi may have done it in revenge,” Raphael said.
“He denies it,” the priest said.
“Do you believe him?” Della asked.
“No,” Father Anthony said. “He lies when it suits him. It is possible he is lying in this instance.”
Raphael said, “So for all our trying we are back where we started. With this girl in as much danger as ever.”
“It is not through lack of effort on my part,” Father Anthony apologized.
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Della said generously. “Do continue your work on my behalf.”
“You may count on me, my girl,” the priest said.
They broke up their little discussion with Father Anthony again promising to be in touch with her. He went off somewhere on his own and they took the carriage back to the palace.
Prince Sanzio was completely frustrated. “I say we must risk them harming Irma and bring the police into this.”
“And if she is killed? What then?” Della asked.
The old man sank back into his wheelchair. “It is likely they will kill her in any case.”
Raphael said, “We mustn’t give up. I’m as disheartened as any of you. Yet I can see that something may happen to help us.”
Della said, “You might try to talk to Barsini?”
“I will,” the young Prince sa
id. “I do not expect any good to come of it. But I shall try.”
She left Raphael to talk with the old man and went upstairs to see Aunt Isobel. She found the old woman in her room, standing by the window and looking weary and upset.
Aunt Isobel came to her, “Where have you been? I’ve been worrying about you!”
“I went to meet Father Anthony,” she said, not going into any of the unpleasantness which had taken place.
“You don’t tell me any of your plans,” her aunt said unhappily. “For all the good I’m doing I might just as well be back in London.”
“Please,” she said. “It will be all right. Soon I hope we’ll be going home.”
“Not as long as that girl is missing,” Aunt Isobel said. “You have taken it on yourself to rescue her.”
“She is my sister! I can’t do less!”
Aunt Isobel gave her a troubled look. “What happened between you and Henry?”
She hesitated. “There was a little misunderstanding.”
“What sort of misunderstanding?”
Della sighed and turned away from her aunt. Then she said, “It was one of those ridiculous situations. Raphael was in my room talking with me. Something was said and he impulsively kissed me. At just that moment Henry happened to arrive in the doorway to see us.”
“So that is what happened!” her aunt exclaimed.
She gave her a guilty look. “I promise you the kiss was innocent enough. I’m so like Irma that I sometimes think Raphael becomes confused.”
“I wouldn’t accept that as an excuse, and neither would Henry,” her aunt said acidly.
“It was a fuss about nothing,” Della protested.
“I see!”
“As soon as I can find Henry I’m going to tell him how sorry I am and ask him to forgive me.”
“You’ll not have that opportunity for a few days at least,” her aunt said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Henry received word from London of an urgent matter involving his firm. It has to do with a client in Naples and he left for there while you were out.”
Della was stunned. “I don’t believe it!”
“It is true,” her aunt said. “He told me to explain to you and said he’d be back in three or four days!”
“How could he leave me knowing the predicament I’m in?” she lamented.
Aunt Isobel said, “I expect he thinks Prince Raphael will look after you.”
“He’s done it to punish me!”
“Perhaps.”
“But it isn’t fair. He knows I’m in real danger! How could he just go off and let me take my chances.”
Aunt Isobel sighed. “I’m sure he was badly hurt.”
“He didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
“Too late now,” her aunt said. “You’ll have to wait until he returns to Rome.”
Della sank into a nearby chair. Dolefully she said, “Everything is going wrong.”
“This grim old house depresses me,” Aunt Isobel said. “I cannot sleep at night.”
“If only Irma hadn’t been abducted we’d have been on our way back to England,” Della said.
“Let me ask you something,” Aunt Isobel said.
She looked up at her. “What?”
“Have you been wandering about the house in the middle of the night?”
Della was startled by the question. She said, “No. Of course not. Why do you ask?”
“I have wandered out of my room in the night,” Aunt Isobel said. “Twice I have seen a figure in the hall which I took to be you. Each time it went along the corridor and suddenly vanished, as if it had dissolved in the air.”
She stared at her aunt’s wrinkled, worried face. “That is utter nonsense!”
“It isn’t,” her aunt insisted. “And if you want my opinion of what it means, it means that Irma is already dead and I’ve been seeing her unhappy ghost.”
Della jumped up. “Don’t say such things!”
“I believe it,” her aunt went on. “I only had a glance at her face and I was sure it was you. Now I realize my error. I was watching a ghost. Irma’s ghost!”
“That’s nonsense talk!”
“You think so? Well I saw some phantom figure with your face. If it wasn’t you it had to be her phantom!”
She stared at the older woman and wondered. This was an amazing utterance from one who scarcely ever strayed from fact.
Della told the older woman, “You must have been dreaming.”
Aunt Isobel said, “I was afraid you might say that.”
“I was not in the corridor and Irma, as you well know, is a captive somewhere. How else can it be explained?”
“As I’ve told you. I think they’ve killed her!”
Della shuddered. “Don’t say that!”
“It is what I think,” the older woman said. “This old palace has a curse on it. Prince Sanzio said so. I’ll not rest until we’re safely away from here!”
Della saw it was not a time to argue. To discuss this further might put Aunt Isobel into a highly nervous state and she had no wish to do that. She was sure her aunt had been suffering from nightmares and because of her insomnia was now mixing up fact and her dreams. The whole business had been a strain on them all and must be especially hard on the older woman.
There was nothing to do but listen to the story and make no definite comment. Once again Della regretted the stupid scene which had put Henry in a frame of mind to go off on an errand for his firm without first warning her. Only now that he was gone did she realize how much she counted on him.
She kissed Aunt Isobel on the cheek and begged her, “Please don’t make yourself ill with worry!”
Then she went on to her own room. But she could not rest. She changed into another dress and went downstairs to find Prince Sanzio in his wheelchair by the fireplace of the great living room.
The old Prince said, “Raphael has gone. I believe he plans to stop by and see Barsini.”
“I’m glad of that,” she said. “I’m sure Barsini is much more involved in this than he revealed to me.”
“Irma was a happy girl before she met that wicked man,” the old Prince sighed.
“Let us hope that she soon will be back with us arid ready for a fresh start.”
The old man frowned. “I do not know. Sometimes I fear they have lied. That she may already be dead.”
“Don’t think that!” she protested. But at the same time she was recalling what her aunt had said. Was it possible that the phantom figure she’d seen had been the ghost of the murdered Irma?
“You have been most kind to an old man,” Prince Sanzio told her. “I fear I brought a great deal of trouble upon you when I brought you here.”
“You could not have done anything else,” she said. “I wanted to find my missing sister. It is grimly ironic that I should find her and then lose her almost at once.”
She had barely finished dinner when a messenger came with a letter from Prince Raphael. She opened it and read it quickly. In it he asked her to come at once and join him at the main entrance of the Sistine Chapel.
She went at once to Prince Sanzio and showed him the letter. “It is evident he must have discovered something!”
The old man examined the note. “It looks genuine enough,” he said. “It is on Raphael’s notepaper.”
“I must go at once,” she said. “Will you explain to my aunt?”
“Of course,” the old man said. “I will have Guido summon the carriage for you.”
She left the palace filled with the hope that Raphael had finally solved the mystery. The fact that he wished to meet her within the area of the Vatican suggested that perhaps the stolen treasure had been restored to the Church officials.
It was still daylight and she enjoyed the street sights as the carriage took her toward the Vatican conclave. She left the carriage near the Bronze Gate and after passing the Swiss Guard on duty there she made her way to the entrance of the Sistine
Chapel. But there was no sign of Raphael!
She stood there glancing around at the hordes of tourists coming and going. But nowhere did she see the Prince’s tall figure and handsome face. She began to worry that she had been the victim of some hoax. The letter could have been forged. It might not be too hard for someone to get some of Raphael’s personal notepaper and use it for their own purposes.
Troubled by these thoughts and fearful that she might have walked into a trap, she was about to hurry back out to her waiting carriage when a scholarly-looking young man wearing thick spectacles and the broad-brimmed black hat and black robes of a priest came to her.
“Miss Standish,” he said with a smile. His English was perfect.
She stared at him in surprise. “Yes. How do you happen to know me?”
The priest smiled. “From the excellent description given of you by Prince Raphael. Also I have several times had the pleasure of meeting your twin sister, Irma. The likeness is startling!”
“Did Prince Raphael send you to meet me?”
“Yes,” the priest said. “May I introduce myself. I am Father Joseph Walker. I am from London and I’m here taking advanced studies in theology.”
“How nice to meet someone from home!” she said.
“Prince Raphael felt you might enjoy my showing you around a little. He will not be here for a while. He is having a meeting with one of our Church officials.”
Her hopes rose. “Has it to do with the Madonna?”
The eyes behind the spectacles fixed on her. “The stolen Madonna of St. Cecilia?”
“Yes.”
“I cannot be sure,” he said. “I am only a humble priest. But I can tell you the Prince must have important business since he is at this moment talking with a cardinal.”
She smiled. “I’d enjoy seeing the Sistine Chapel while we’re waiting.”
“You have never seen it?” Father Walker said.
“No.”
“Then let us delay the experience no longer,” he said.
Della was astonished by the distance of the chapel from the main entrance. Father Walker led her along at least a half-mile of marble corridor with inexplicable twists and turns. The chapel was down a winding staircase with occasional windows on the wall looking out on grim stonework. She had the sense of descending into a deep fortress of stone.
Vintage Love Page 83