Excellency."
"Then why should you interest yourself in a matter which does notconcern you, pray?" inquired Morini impatiently.
"Because this unfortunate affair reflects upon the honour of mycommand."
"Oh, of course. It is all very well to speak heroically after theevent!" exclaimed the Minister of War, with a hard, dry laugh. "Themischief has been done, and one of your officers has been found guiltyof treason--of selling a military secret to a foreign power."
"Found guilty, yes," exclaimed the unfortunate captain. "But innocent,nevertheless!"
Morini shrugged his shoulders, and seating himself in his writing-chairtook some official memoranda from a drawer in the table. Then, havingglanced quickly at it, he said--
"The facts are quite plain. This man, Felice Solaro, of the 6th AlpineRegiment, is in garrison on Mont Gran Paradiso in the Alps, where on theother side of the mountain, at Tresenta, we have recently constructed anew fortress, for the protection of the frontier at that point. Thisfortress, which is sunk out of sight, has taken four and a half years toconstruct, and was only completed and garrisoned six months ago. Itcommands the Oreo valley, which, in the event of hostilities withFrance, would be one of the most vulnerable points on the frontier.French agents have, time after time, endeavoured to learn something ofour works up there; but so well has the spot been guarded that only twoagents have succeeded in obtaining sight of it, and both were arrestedand are now in prison as spies. And yet, in spite of all this, therewas found in Solaro's quarters by an orderly fragments of a curiousletter in French addressed to `Mon cher Felice,' acknowledging receiptof the plans, thanking him, and enclosing the sum agreed upon in Italianbanknotes."
"The letter was never addressed to me," the captain cried. "I knownothing of it. The whole thing was a conspiracy to ruin and disgraceme!"
"But there are other facts supplied by the secret service," went on theMinister in a dry, hard tone, turning to the accused man. "You spentyour last leave in Paris; you were seen by one of our agents in thecompany of a man well-known to be a French spy. You went to variousplaces of amusement with him, drank with him at the Hotel Chatham, atthe Grand Cafe, and other places, and," added Morini, looking himstraight in the face, "and what is more, he lent you money. Do you denythat?"
The captain stood glaring at his accuser, utterly dumbfounded. Thislatter truth had not been given in evidence against him. The Ministertherefore held certain secret information of which he was in entireignorance. He had been watched in Paris! He held his breath, and wassilent. Even the general looked at him in surprise and suspicion.
"No," he answered hoarsely at last, "I do not deny it. The man did lendme money."
"For what purpose--eh? In order to obtain from you in secret the plansof the Tresenta fortress," declared His Excellency. "French agents donot lend money to Italian officers without some _quid pro quo_."
"I did not know that the fellow was a spy until afterwards."
"Until it was too late, I suppose. You were entrapped, so you werecompelled to give the plans to France. Now admit it."
"I assert that I am entirely innocent," he declared. "It is true that Ispent my leave in Paris, where I met a man who called himself GeorgesLatrobe, an engineer from Bordeaux, who spoke Italian I ran short ofcash, and he lent me five hundred francs, which I repaid to him ten daysafter my return to barracks. It was only on the last day when I waswith him that my suspicions were aroused regarding his real character.We were sitting together in the Cafe Terminus, when he turned theconversation to our defences on the Alpine frontier, expressing a desireto visit me at Gran Paradiso. I at once told him that the admission ofstrangers within the military zone was prohibited. But he pressed me,and even went so far as to offer me a receipt for the money he had lentme, together with a like sum if I could gain him admission, in order, sohe said, to see the latest feat of Italian engineering. But mysuspicions were at once aroused. I told him that his suggestion wasimpossible, and from that day I have not seen him."
"But you furnished him with plans and details of the fortifications?"snapped the Minister of War.
"I did not," denied the captain stoutly. "I admit that I very narrowlyescaped falling into a clever trap, but fortunately saved myself. Ifthe plans have actually been furnished, then they have been given bysomeone else, not by me; and that letter was placed in my quarters inorder to divert suspicion from the guilty person."
"Ah, a very ingenious story!" the Minister laughed incredulously. "Youadmit being friendly with the spy?"
"I admit all that is the truth, your Excellency, but I flatly deny thatI am a traitor to my king," was the accused man's quick, response.
"But you see you were watched while on leave," the Minister went on,referring to his report. "On your return from Paris you travelled byway of Milan to Bologna, where you visited a certain Signora Nodari andher daughter."
"The latter was my betrothed," the unhappy man explained.
"Exactly. Then how do you account for the agent Latrobe calling uponher a month later and obtaining from her a packet which she had receivedby post from the garrison of Gran Paradiso? It was only afterwards thatthis fact was known, otherwise the spy would not have escaped fromItaly."
Captain Solaro stood rigid.
"Have you really proof of this, your Excellency?" he demanded in a low,hoarse voice. "I--I cannot think that she would betray me."
"Ah! Never trust a woman," observed the Minister, with a grim smile."She has made a statement--a statement which proves everything."
"Which proves?" he cried wildly. "Which proves I am innocent."
"No," declared Morini calmly. "Which proves that you are guilty."
"Ah, but let me tell you how--"
"No more!" cried Morini, rising with quick anger from his chair andsnapping his fingers in impatience. "You have been found guilty andsentenced, and I think that even your general, after your ownadmissions, is now convinced of his injudicious and ridiculous attemptto shield a traitor."
"Ah!" cried the unfortunate man, hot tears springing to his eyes, "I seenow how I have been betrayed--and I know by whom!"
"I have no further time to waste upon hearing any counter-charges,"abruptly answered the Minister. "From to-day you are dismissed the armyin disgrace. My decree will appear in to-night's _Gazette_, and,General Valentini," he added meaningly, turning to the stern old officerwho had writhed beneath the civilian's rebuke, "convey your prisonerback to Turin, and do not again become the gaoler of a traitor."
"You absolutely refuse to hear me further, then!" cried the captain inwild desperation, dismayed to find that all attempt to clear hischaracter had failed.
"I do."
The accused man with set teeth drew his sword, and with one quick wrenchacross his knee broke the gleaming blade and cast it ringing upon themarble floor.
"Take my sword!" he cried, drawing himself up to the salute. "Take myhonour--take my life! But you--even you, Camillo Morini--cannot condemnme with justice! One day you shall know that I am innocent--you hear!--innocent!"
And with firm tread he strode out of the Minister's private room,followed by his general, who merely saluted in stiff silence, hisscabbard trailing upon the marble.
CHAPTER NINE.
HIS EXCELLENCY LEARNS THE TRUTH.
The Minister of War was seated busily writing beneath the green-shadedreading-lamp in the big library of the great old Antinori Palace, hishandsome residence in Rome.
Five years ago he had bought that enormous old place in the ViaNazionale--a place full of historic interest--together with its oldfurniture, its gallery of cinquecento paintings, and its corridor filledwith armour. It was a high, square, ponderous place of princelydimensions, with a great central courtyard where an old fountain plashedon in the silence as it had done for three centuries or more, whilearound the arched cloisters were the carved arms of the various familiesthrough whose hands the place had passed in generations bygone.
The library
was a high room on the first floor, with long cases filledwith parchment-covered books, many of them illuminated codices and rareeditions, a fine frescoed ceiling, and a great open hearth over whichwas an ornamentation of carved marble of the Renaissance with a grinningmascherino. The floor was of marble, except that the litteredwriting-table was set upon an oasis of thick Turkey carpet, giving tothe room an austere character of comfortless grandeur, like everythingelse in that huge old palace of the days when every house of the Romannobility was a fortress.
An Italian Minister's life is not by any means an easy one, as CamilloMorini had long ago discovered. He was often in