CHAPTER XI
THE LIEUTENANT HONOURS GALVA
The residence which Edward Povey Sydney had chosen for his partyoccupied a central position overlooking the blue waters of theMediterranean, and embracing a fine view of the Bay of Lucana from theverdure-clad heights of the western arm to the tiny white lighthousethat stood sentinel on the spur of rock to the eastward.
The house itself was modern, having been built five years beforeEdward's arrival by a Cornhill financier, to whom the extradition lawsof San Pietro offered as much inducement as the climate. But at theend of his first year's residence the call of the joys of London provedtoo strong for the poor man of finance, and the change from the luxuryof Venta Villa to the hardships of a cell at Dartmoor had been asunpleasant as it had been swift.
Whatever may have been the failings of the poor gentleman--anddoubtless they were many and varied--he had shown a pretty taste in thedesigning and building of Venta Villa and a wise expenditure of his--orrather other people's--money. The house stood high, having theappearance of being propped up by a series of little lawns and whiteterraces. The steps leading from the front portico, widening out asthey descended, gave upon a square courtyard in which playedcuriously-carved little fountains. Palms in green tubs lined thispathway of steps, and the banks of the lawns were gay with floweringshrubs.
Miss Baxendale, looking adorable in an old rose, tailor-made gown, thatset off the slender lines of her little figure to perfection, stood onthe top step debating how and where to spend the hour or so before_dejeuner_.
It was a glorious morning in late January, and the girl's eyes andcheeks glowed with health as she drank in the delicious morning air.Below her the promenade was bright with a happy, well-dressed crowd,the sprinkling of uniforms adding greatly to the gaiety of the scene.Slender victorias and smart dog-carts trotted up and down under theacacias, and shapely motors threaded their noiseless way in and out ofthe slower traffic, the sun glinting bravely upon their polished brassand silver.
So occupied was the little lady with the novelty and beauty of hersurroundings, that she did not at first notice the scarlet and blackfigure which had detached itself from the crowd of promenaders and nowstood trying to attract her attention at the gateway of the lowercourtyard. When she did so, she smiled, and waving her long whitegloves, ran lightly down to him.
It cannot be said that she was in any way attracted to LieutenantGaspar Mozara, in fact, had she asked herself the question, she wouldhave said that she disliked him, but she was gracious to the youngsoldier from a sense of duty to his uncle, for since presenting Mr.Baxendale's letter to Senor Luazo, the old aristocrat had doneeverything in his power to make their stay on the island a pleasant one.
As to the true object of their coming to San Pietro, Galva had beenwilling, as in Paris, to let things in the mean time shape themselves.Senor Luazo also, when put in possession of all the facts, advisedcaution.
There seemed to her something horrible in the thought of "plotting" inthis gay little kingdom. To her the name of "plot" meant bloodshed andhardships, and the world in all its beauty was so new, and seemed sogood to her, that she was loath to endanger her newly-acquiredparadise. She had even told Edward that she had no immediate desire tobe a queen of anywhere, let alone San Pietro--life in the little villa,overlooking the bay, seemed to her far more desirable than existence inthe rather ugly royal palace on the hills behind the town--the palacewith its long rows of square windows, that reminded her of a workhouse.And in her own heart she was looking forward to the visit to Paris in ayear, and her thoughts ran on the Duc de Choleaux Lasuer more oftenthan Mr. Sydney or Anna suspected. She told herself that she did notwant to take that journey as a queen, with a crowd of irritatingcourtiers and maids-of-honour.
"I suppose this is the height of the season, Lieutenant Mozara," shesaid, indicating the butterfly throng moving round them as they madetheir way along the boulevard; "how happy and gay they all seem, andwhat a happy and gay little kingdom you have here--laughter, laughtereverywhere."
"Yes, Miss Baxendale, it is the season--we have a long one. We arealways happy here; it is only in the height of summer that it is quiet,and then there's nobody here to see it. All these villas are emptythen, and everybody who is anybody is in London or Paris. When theking dies, however----"
"Why, is King Enrico very ill?"
"Surely you have heard, Miss Baxendale, that it is only a matter ofmonths, perhaps weeks. There will be trouble then, I'm afraid. Yousee, the heir-apparent is not popular. It will be the chance for astrong man then."
"But this heir--is he here, in Corbo?"
"Here? he's never here. It's little he troubles about San Pietro.They say he's in Africa now, shooting lions or something silly. Theman who keeps his throne warm for him will hardly welcome him when hedoes come back."
"And who will this man be--this man who keeps his throne warm?"
The young soldier turned and pointed with his cane to where SenorDasso's house rose, gaunt and forbidding, above the roofs and gables ofthe old town.
"Dasso, undoubtedly--and with him will rise others. I am a friend ofDasso's," he added meaningly.
"Which means----?"
The lieutenant made an expressive gesture with his shoulders.
"Who knows? A dukedom perhaps"; then, as he looked at her, "I shallhave to be looking out for a duchess."
The girl laughed, and gazed out over the sea.
"She will be a lucky woman," she said carelessly.
For a little while the smart figure in its astrakhan tunic and scarletriding-breeches walked on beside Galva in silence. During the twomonths of their acquaintance, Lieutenant Mozara had found himselfirresistibly attracted by this beautiful girl from England, and thetask imposed upon him during the last week by Senor Dasso had beenirksome and distasteful in the extreme. Since the eventful night ofthe marked cards the two men had not met, but Dasso would soon begetting impatient, and Mozara had during the last few days learnt muchrespecting Miss Baxendale's presence in San Pietro, and he suspectedmore.
He found himself between two stools, his fear of Dasso and theunbounded ambition that his suspicions of Galva's parentage had rousedin him. As the accepted suitor of the girl by his side he would be ina strong position--strong enough, perhaps, to defy his enemy. But hetold himself he must speak before her secret was known, it would beimpossible after.
These thoughts ran quickly through his brain as they walked along thecrowded promenade. Then, impetuous as ever, he bent his head until hislips all but touched a tendril of dark hair that had strayed from underthe fascinating toque that Galva wore.
"You think so, really, Miss Baxendale, that she will be a lucky woman.Will _you_ be she?"
In a moment the little face became white and set.
"Lieutenant Mozara!"
"Is it so strange, then, that I should have learnt to love you? We ofthe South do not hesitate to speak where our hearts are concerned. Iask you, is it strange?"
"I--I--don't know how to answer you, lieutenant, I only knowthat--that----Oh! I didn't expect this."
"Do you dislike me, Miss Baxendale?"
"Dislike--oh no, but I do not love you."
"And you could never do so?"
The girl paused in her walk and faced the young soldier. "Thisconversation is distasteful to me, Lieutenant Mozara. If you will havean answer, it is that I could never look upon you except as a friend."
A look of anger came into Mozara's narrow eyes.
"That sounds final," he said rather nastily; "there is some one else,then?"
"You have no right to say that," and Galva thought again of a certainnobleman and of delightful rides in the glades of Fontainebleu.
"Pardon me, Miss Baxendale, I have offended you."
"Offended--no, but I am afraid you have put a stop to a very pleasantfriendship. These walks will be impossible now, won't they?"
The girl smiled a sad little smile and went on: "I have some shoppingto d
o, lieutenant, and that street up there looks promising. Do youknow, a woman can tell a shop miles away."
She held out her hand, and in a moment she was gone, leaving LieutenantGaspar Mozara with anger in his heart.
"So it must be the other way, my lady; Gaspar Mozara does not asktwice." He said this between set teeth, and hailing a passing fiacre,gave the direction of Senor Dasso's house in the old town.
* * * * *
Dasso was sitting reading in the oak-panelled library. It was adignified apartment, low ceilinged and sombre in colouring. Thefirelight played richly on the dark red hangings and on the pewterwhich stood on the low bookcases. In shadowy corners stood suits ofarmour, with here and there a choice bronze statue.
The ex-Dictator put aside the book and rose as the lieutenant wasannounced, and held out his hand with a show of greeting.
"I have been expecting you," he said.
Gaspar Mozara drew a chair up to face his host, and threw himself intoit with an oath. Dasso looked his inquiries.
"Expecting me, have you? It was useless my worrying you, senor, untilI had news."
Senor Dasso rose and put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Now look here, Gaspar, there's no need for you to be surly. There aretimes ahead in San Pietro, and you should be honoured to think that Ihave chosen you to work with me. Oh, I know you are thinking of thosecards--they are just my safeguard, nothing more, against treachery. Ahand such as I am playing does not allow of throwing away a singletrick, of missing a single chance. Work with me, Gaspar, and forgetthat you ever played poker."
A manservant entered and placed refreshment on the table andnoiselessly withdrew.
Dasso poured out Madeira into two thin goblets of Venetian glass andhanded one to the young man, who stood looking into the fire, seeing inthe glowing coals the disdainful face of Galva Baxendale. He stood upwith a clanking of spurs on the polished oak floor and took the glass.
"To Dasso," he said, with a reckless laugh; "To King Gabriel the First."
He drained the goblet, then: "You may burn the cards, Dasso, as I haveburned my boats. Heart and soul I am with you, and any work in yourcause I will do, for it is my cause, too, now. And the more devilishthe work the better I shall like it. My fiacre is outside, Dasso; Iwill come again this evening. My news can hold till then; I am takingJulie to lunch at Amato's."