one of connivance atthe betrayal of the secrets of that high-up Alpine fortress.
Was Solaro really guilty after all? At times he was convinced of it,because the proofs had been so plain, and the evidence of that youngwoman Nodari had been borne out by witnesses. Sometimes, however, hedoubted. And if there was doubt, should not the accused be given thebenefit of it? Ought not his last act to be one of fearless clemency?
Slowly he walked to the window and then back again.
"Yes. He shall have the benefit of the doubt," he murmured,recollecting how the man had defiantly broken his sword before him. "Itshall not be said that Camillo Morini did an injustice even to shieldhimself. My enemies will regard my action as proof of my guilt, andthey are welcome to do so," he added in a blank, hoarse voice. "My lastaction shall at least be one of justice."
And reseating himself at his table, he took out a big sheet of officialpaper, upon which he wrote--
"It is hereby ordered that Felice Solaro, ex-captain of the 6th Alpine Regiment, convicted of treason, degraded, dismissed from the army of Italy, and imprisoned at the military prison of Turin, shall be immediately released and reinstated in his former rank, with pay to date from his arrest, as he is found not guilty of the false charges brought against him.
"The governor of the military prison at Turin and General Arturo Valentini commanding the forces on the Alpine frontier are ordered to execute this decree given under my hand this first day of October in the year one thousand nine hundred and one."
Then, beneath, he signed that name that was magical with everythingconcerning the defences of Italy: "Camillo Morini, Il Ministro dellaGuerra," after which he placed the document in an envelope and directedit to the prison governor.
He drew a deep breath. At risk of being branded as one who sold Italy'ssecrets to the French War Office, he had extended to the accused man aclemency which he might not deserve. Nevertheless, he felt convincedthat he had acted with justice, and hoped that after all his enemieswould not denounce Mary as Solaro's accomplice.
The allegation was, to him, a mystery. It was true that she had met thegood-looking young captain in society, for he recollected perfectly wellhow, about eighteen months before, at a ball given by the PrincessCapellari in Rome, he had noticed them dancing together. But Mary,being a great favourite, was much sought after by her maleacquaintances, and he had never regarded the young Alpine captain asanything more than her mere acquaintance.
He, however, could not disguise from himself the fact that she had hadaccess to those carefully guarded papers which constituted the completescheme by which the millions of Italy's armed men were to be mobilisedin case of war. In order to preserve greater secrecy, he had employedher in his study in the palace in Rome to copy certain portions of thesecret scheme relative to the army of the north--portions which it wasnecessary to place in the hands of the general commanding in case ofnecessity. He preferred her assistance in this rather than to employone of the secretaries, for his confidence in her was complete. It wastherefore amazing that this should actually be known to those who wereseeking his ruin. They charged her with gaining knowledge of the wholescheme--which, indeed, she might easily have done--and with havingafterwards handed a copy of it to Felice Solaro.
Such an imputation upon his daughter's honour was infamous. That wasItaly's reward for all he had done for her!
He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was already five o'clock,the fatal hour when that thin-faced adventurer, Paolo Montebruno--anadvocate, of course, as well as a Socialist deputy--was to rise andlaunch his bombshell into the Chamber!
He held his breath, and as he sat staring before him fixedly indesperation and despair, he pictured to himself the scene atMontecitorio at that moment. He knew well that huge, semicircularCamera, and he had often sat listening to Montebruno shrieking in thatquick, impetuous, high-pitched voice which inflamed the members of hiswild-haired party. Yes! he knew well what hard invectives he would usewhen, as the mouthpiece of Angelo Borselli, he poured forth his terriblecharges against the Minister of War.
In that silent room, now darker as the sun declined, the man whose doomwas sealed conjured up to himself the staggering sensation which wouldbe caused by those allegations that he, the trusted adviser of hissovereign, had foully betrayed his country. Already he was speaking,without doubt, and already the wires were flashing the astoundingcharges to every corner of Italy. In a few brief hours thoseirresponsible journals inspired and subsidised by Borselli would be fullof the sensation, screaming that Italy had been betrayed, and demandinga prosecution.
He knew, from what Ricci had told him, that the charges could not failto set all Italy aflame. The plot against him had been too cleverlyprepared. The hour had passed. The Camera were already staggered atthe magnitude and seriousness of the charges. He was already houndeddown as a thief and a traitor.
His nervous hand went to his vest-pocket, and drawing forth the smallglass tube, he gazed upon it with a bitter smile of satisfaction.
Of a sudden the telephone bell rang sharply behind him, causing him tostart. The voice from across those high misty mountains would speak hisdoom.
For a few moments the despairing man sat motionless, bent forward uponthe table staring at the tube, then rising slowly, he staggered acrossto the instrument, took the receiver in his trembling fingers, andmechanically placed it to his ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
THE PLOT.
On that same hot afternoon, while His Excellency was pacing the libraryin the high-up old villa in the Apennines, Dubard alighted from a cab inthe Via Salaria, in Rome, and entered a fine modern mansion, the home ofAngelo Borselli, Under-Secretary for War. He was conducted to a smallsitting-room, where, in the dim light of the closed sun-shutters, thearch-schemer was taking his siesta in a long wicker lounge-chair, halfdozing, and yet revolving within his brain every detail of his ingeniousplan to oust the Minister from office and to replace him.
"Why, my dear Jules!" he cried in surprise as the young Frenchmanentered. "I thought you had gone up to San Donato in order to be nearyour charmer when the blow fell."
"No," responded Dubard in a rather hard voice. "I am still here--inRome." Then after a brief pause he looked the sallow man straight inthe face and added, "The question must not be asked in the Chamber. Theblow must not be struck--do you understand?"
"What do you mean?" cried Borselli, starting to his feet. "What hashappened? I see by your face that something has occurred."
"It has," was the other's answer. "Montebruno must be stopped."
"Why?"
"Because to seek to overthrow Morini at this moment is against ourinterests."
"Oh!" laughed the other. "So you have just discovered that fact, haveyou? It is against your interest, of course, because you intend tomarry his daughter; but not against mine."
"I tell you that no revelation must be attempted," said Dubard firmly.
"But why do you say this? What is there to prevent the question beingput and the Ministry criticised?"
"It is unwise. It would be a serious blunder on your part."
"And yet you have assisted me! My dear Jules, I don't really understandyou! Do you not recollect what we arranged in London when ourreconciliation took place? Have you forgotten what we agreed only theday before yesterday?"
"I have forgotten nothing. I only speak plainly, and say that by makingthe revelations at the present moment you will imperil your ownposition."
"No. I shall become Minister on Morini's downfall. All is arranged. Iam not the man to pick the chestnuts out of the fire for others--yousurely know that?"
"But will you not be incriminated in the matter of certain secretcommissions? Did you not rather unfortunately arrange matters and actas the go-between?"
"Of course. But I shall be careful enough that my own interest in thematter does not appear. The Minister of Justice is no friend ofMorini," he added, with a grin upon his thin, hard feature
s.
"Montebruno must be stopped," declared Dubard determinedly after apause. "Let us telephone to him to come here."
"He is already down at the Camera," said the Under-Secretary, glancingat the little French timepiece on the mantelshelf. "The question is tobe put at five, and it is already half-past four."
"But it shall not be put!" cried the young man.
"Who will prevent it?" inquired Borselli, looking at him defiantly.
"I will," he said sternly. "Let us be quite plain and outspoken, mydear Angelo. I tell you that you shall not imperil the future by thispremature action. Morini knows of the conspiracy against him, and isprepared."
"Well--and if he is? What then?"
"He may seek to defend himself in a manner