'Farewell, Nikola'

"Some one connected with the hotel told my maid, Phillipa," she answered. "They say he never returns to the hotel until between two and three in the morning."

"He is not married," I retorted.

She vouchsafed no remark to this speech, but, bidding me keep my eyes open, and beware lest there should be trouble between the two men, left me to my own thoughts.

The warning she had given me was not a futile one, for it needed only half an eye to see that Glenbarth and Martinos were desperately jealous of one another. They eyed each other when they met as if, at any moment, they were prepared to fly at each other's throats. Once the Duke's behaviour was such as to warrant my speaking to him upon the subject when we were alone together.

"My dear fellow," I said, "I must ask you to keep yourself in hand. I don't like having to talk to you, but I have to remember that there are ladies in the case."

"Then why on earth doesn't Martinos keep out of my way?" he asked angrily. "You pitch into me for getting riled, but you don't see how villainously rude he is to me. He contradicts me as often as he can, and, for the rest of the time, treats me as if I were a child."

"In return you treat him as if he were an outsider, and had no right to look at, much less to speak to, Miss Trevor. Nevertheless he is our friend – or if he is not our friend, he has at least been introduced to us by a friend. Now I have no desire that you should quarrel at all, but if you must do so, let it be when you are alone together, and also when you are out of the hotel."

I had no idea how literally my words were to be taken.

That night, according to a custom he had of late adopted, Martinos put in an appearance after dinner, and brought his guitar with him. As he bade us "good-evening" I looked at the Duke's face. It was pale and set as if he had at last come to an understanding with himself. Presently my wife and I sang a duet together, in a fashion that pointed very plainly to the fact that our thoughts were elsewhere. Miss Trevor thanked us in a tone that showed me that she also had given but small attention to our performance. Then Gertrude sang a song of Tosti's very prettily, and was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. After this the Don was called upon to perform. He took up his guitar, and having tuned it, struck a few chords and began to sing. Though I look back upon that moment now with real pain, I must confess that I do not think I had ever heard him sing better; the merry laughter of the song suited his voice to perfection. It was plainly a comic ditty with some absurd imitations of the farm-yard at the end of each verse. When he had finished, my wife politely asked him to give us a translation of the words. Fate willed that she should ask, I suppose, and also that he should answer it.

"It is a story of a foolish young man who loved a fair maid," he replied, speaking with the utmost deliberation. "Unfortunately, however, he was afraid to tell her of his love. He pined to be with her, yet, whenever he was desirous of declaring his passion, his courage failed him at the last moment, and he was compelled to talk of the most commonplace things, such as the animals upon his father's farm. At last she, tiring of such a laggard, sent him away in disgust to learn how to woo. In the meantime she married a man who was better acquainted with his business."

Whether the song was exactly as he described it, I am not in a position to say; the fact, however, remains that at least four of our party saw the insinuation and bitterly resented it. I saw the Duke's face flush and then go pale. I thought for a moment that he was going to say something, but he contented himself by picking up a book from the table at his side, and glancing carelessly at it. I could guess, by the way his hands gripped it, something of the storm that was raging in his breast. My wife, meanwhile, had turned the conversation into another channel by asking the Dean what he had thought of a certain old church he had visited that morning. This gave a little relief, but not very much. Ten minutes later the Don rose and bade us "good-night." With a sneer on his face, he even extended his good wish to the Duke, who bowed, but did not reply. When he had gone, my wife gave the signal for a general dispersal, and Glenbarth and I were presently left in the drawing-room alone. I half expected an immediate outburst, but to my surprise he said nothing on the subject. I had no intention of referring to it unless he did, and so the matter remained for the time in abeyance. After a conversation on general topics, lasting perhaps a quarter of an hour, we wished each other "good-night," and retired to our respective rooms. When I entered my wife's room later, I was prepared for the discussion which I knew was inevitable.

"What do you think of your friend now?" she asked, with a touch of sarcasm thrown into the word "friend." "You of course heard how he insulted the Duke?"

"I noticed that he did a very foolish thing, not only for his own interests with us, but also for several other reasons. You may rely upon it that if ever he had any chance with Gertrude – "

"He never had the remotest chance, I can promise you that," my wife interrupted.

"I say if ever he had a chance with Gertrude, he has lost it now. Surely that should satisfy you."

"It does not satisfy me that he should be rude to our guest at any time, but I am particularly averse to his insulting him in our presence."

"You need not worry yourself," I said. "In all probability you will see no more of him. I shall convey a hint to him upon the subject. It will not be pleasant for Anstruther's sake."

"Mr. Anstruther should have known better than to have sent him to us," she replied. "There is one thing I am devoutly thankful for, and that is that the Duke took it so beautifully. He might have been angry, and have made a scene. Indeed I should not have blamed him, had he done so."

I did not ask her, for reasons of my own, whether she was sure that his Grace of Glenbarth was not angry. I must confess that I was rendered more uneasy by the quiet way he had taken it, than if he had burst into an explosion. Concealed fires are invariably more dangerous than open ones.

Next morning after breakfast, while we were smoking together in the balcony, a note was brought to Glenbarth. He took it, opened it, and when he had read the contents, thrust it hastily into his pocket.

"No answer," he said, as he lit a cigar, and I thought his hand trembled a little as he put the match to it.

His face was certainly paler than usual, and there was a far-away look in his eyes that showed me that it was not the canal or the houses opposite that he was looking upon.

"There is something behind all this, and I must find out what it is," I said to myself. "Surely he can't be going to make a fool of himself."

I knew, however, that my chance of getting anything satisfactory out of him lay in saying nothing about the matter just then. I must play my game in another fashion.

"What do you say if we run down to Rome next week?" I asked, after a little pause. "My wife and Miss Trevor seem to think they would enjoy it. There are lots of people we know there just now."

"I shall be very pleased," he answered, but with a visible effort.

At any other time he would have jumped eagerly at the suggestion. Decidedly there was something wrong! At luncheon he was preoccupied, so much so that I could see Miss Trevor wondered what was the matter. Had she known the terrible suspicion that was growing in my own mind, I wonder what she would have said, and also how she would have acted?

That afternoon the ladies resolved to remain at home, and the Dean decided to stay with them. In consequence, the Duke and I went out together. He was still as quiet as he had been in the morning, but as yet I had not been able to screw up my courage to such a pitch as to be able to put the question to him. Once, however, I asked the reason for his quietness, and received the evasive reply "that he was not feeling quite up to the mark that day."

This time I came a little nearer the point.

"You are not worrying about that wretched fellow's rudeness, I hope?" I said, looking him fairly and squarely in the face.

"Not in the least," he answered. "Why should I be?"

"Well, because I know you are hot-tempered," I returned, rather puzzled to find an explanation for him.

"Oh, I'll have it out with him at some time or another, I have no doubt," he continued, and then changed the subject by referring to some letters he had had from home that day.

When later we returned to the hotel for afternoon tea, we found the two ladies eagerly awaiting our coming. From the moment that he entered the room, Miss Trevor was graciousness itself to the young man. She smiled upon him, and encouraged him, until he scarcely knew whether he was standing upon his head or his heels. I fancy she was anxious to compensate him for the Don's rudeness to him.

That evening we all complained of feeling tired, and accordingly went to bed early. I was the latest of the party, and my own man had not left my dressing-room more than a minute before he returned with the information that the Duke's valet would be glad if he could have a few words with me.

"Send him in," I said, and forthwith the man made his appearance.

"What is it, Henry?" I inquired. "Is your master not well?"

"I don't know what's wrong with his Grace, sir," the man replied. "I'm very much frightened about him, and I thought I would come to you at once."

"Why, what is the matter? He seemed well enough when I bade him good-night, half-an-hour or so ago."

"It isn't that, sir. He's well enough in his body," said the man. "There's something else behind it all. I know, sir, you won't mind my coming to you. I didn't know what else to do."

"You had better tell me everything, then I shall know how to act. What do you think is the reason of it?"

"Well, sir, it's like this," Henry went on. "His Grace has been very quiet all day. He wrote a lot of letters this morning and put them in his dispatch-box. 'I'll tell you what to do with them later, Henry,' he said when he had finished. Well, I didn't think very much of that, but when to-night he asked me what I had made up my mind to do with myself if ever I should leave his service, and told me that he had put it down in his will that I was to have five hundred pounds if he should die before I left him, I began to think there was something the matter. Well, sir, I took his things to-night, and was in the act of leaving the room, when he called me back. 'I'm going out early for a swim in the sea to-morrow morning,' he said, 'but I shan't say anything to Sir Richard Hatteras about it, because I happen to know that he thinks the currents about here are dangerous. Well, one never knows what may turn up,' he goes on to say, 'and if, by any chance, Henry – though I hope such a thing will not happen – I should be caught, and should not return, I want you to give this letter to Sir Richard. But remember this, you are on no account to touch it until mid-day. Do you understand?' I told him that I did, but I was so frightened, sir, by what he said, that I made up my mind to come and see you at once."

This was disturbing intelligence indeed. From what he said there could be no doubt that the Don and Glenbarth contemplated fighting a duel. In that case what was to be done? To attempt to reason with the Duke in his present humour would be absurd, besides his honour was at stake, and, though I am totally against duels, that counts for something.

"I am glad you told me this, Henry," I said, "for now I shall know how to act. Don't worry about your master's safety. Leave him to me. He is safe in my hands. He shall have his swim to-morrow morning, but I shall take very good care that he is watched. You may go to bed with an easy heart, and don't think about that letter. It will not be needed, for he will come to no harm."

The man thanked me civilly and withdrew, considerably relieved in his mind by his interview with me. Then I sat myself down to think the matter out. What was I to do? Doubtless the Don was an experienced duellist, while Glenbarth, though a very fair shot with a rifle or fowling-piece, would have no chance against him with the pistol or the sword. It was by no means an enviable position for a man to be placed in, and I fully realized my responsibility in the matter. I felt that I needed help, but to whom should I apply for it? The Dean would be worse than useless; while to go to the Don and to ask him to sacrifice his honour to our friendship for Glenbarth would be to run the risk of being shown the door. Then I thought of Nikola, and made up my mind to go to him at once. Since the Duke had spoken of leaving the hotel early in the morning, there could be no doubt as to the hour of the meeting. In that case there was no time to be lost. I thereupon went to explain matters to my wife.

"I had a suspicion that this would happen," she said, when she had heard me out. "Oh, Dick! you must stop it without fail. I should never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him while he is our guest. Go to Doctor Nikola at once and tell him everything, and implore him to help us as he has helped us before."

Thus encouraged, I left her, and went back to my dressing-room to complete my attire. This done I descended to the hall to endeavour to obtain a gondola. Good fortune favoured me, for the American party who had but lately arrived at the hotel, had just returned from the theatre. I engaged the man who had brought them, and told him to take me to the Palace Revecce with all possible speed.

"It's a late hour, Senor," he replied, "and I'd rather go anywhere than to that house in the Rio del Consiglio."

"You will be well paid for your trouble and also for your fear," I replied as I got into the boat.

Next moment we were on our way. A light was burning in Nikola's room as we drew up at the palace steps. I bade the gondolier wait for me, and to ensure his doing so, refused to pay him until my return. Then I rang the bell, and was rewarded in a few minutes by hearing Nikola's footsteps on the flag-stones of the courtyard. When the door opened he was vastly surprised at seeing me; he soon recovered his equilibrium, however. It took more than a small surprise to upset Nikola. He invited me to enter.