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Princess Galva, The

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<h3> CHAPTER XXIV </h3> <h4> A BULLET IN THE GROUNDS </h4> At the moment when Edward was drinking his cognac in the caf� in Corbo, Gabriel Dasso was sitting in the library of his house in the old town listening eagerly to a story. Lieutenant Mozara, his spurred riding-boots stretched out to the fire, was telling what had befallen him that afternoon in Alcador. "It was in a crowd near the little theatre in the Plaza. I only caught a glimpse of him, but I knew the face at once as that of the brute you sent to Casa Luzo. I tried to get near him, but he had evidently seen me, for he slipped into a caf�. It was a low place, but I followed him. The old proprietor answered my questions with a cunning smile; no one had entered, he told me, and our friend was not among the disreputable crowds that lounged round the tables. There was nothing for it but to hurry on to the Casa Luzo. "My horse was stabled at the little hotel on the Alcador road, and in under the hour I was interviewing old Pieto, or rather his wife, for the old man was in a state of collapse—and good red wine." The lieutenant broke off and poured himself out some claret. His host pushed his own glass towards him also, and the two men drank. Then, "Go on," said Dasso, shortly. "It was a funny story that she had to tell me. She says that yesterday that mysterious Mr. Sydney drove up in a car. With him were the lady companion and three burly ruffians, who, Teresa says, were strangers to her. They seem to have done their work pretty thoroughly, even to the extent of putting a bullet through the leg of your friend from Alcador. "That was what made me believe the tale, for the man I had seen enter the caf� was using a crutch. Teresa said that Pieto was asleep at the time, but I expect he was drunk. She says that Galva was bundled into the car, and she overheard Sydney tell her that they were going to Rozana en route for England. He was very agitated, she says, and remarked that he was damn sick of San Pietro, and everything and everybody in it." "But, Gaspar, you say this was yesterday. Why did not Pieto let me know?" "They wouldn't allow him to. Two of the men Sydney had brought with him stayed on guard, and it was only——" The lieutenant stopped and looked inquiringly at his companion, for through the night-air had come the sound of a gun, muffled, but unmistakable. Dasso leapt to his feet with an oath. "Enrico's gone," he said hoarsely, and made for the door. Mozara followed, and in a moment the men, assisted by the under-groom, were saddling Dasso's horse. Gaspar's own mare was on a pillar-rein where he had left her. A moment more and the two men were riding with loose rein up the cobbled street that led to the Palace. The frightened inhabitants, who were conversing in little groups, scattered to right and left, and windows were opened and heads thrust out as the horsemen clattered past. The Palace gates were open, and dashing through them they pulled up their smoking horses at the great doors. In the hall the servants, male and female, were crowded, their faces showing inactive stupidity. They fell apart and gave room for Dasso and the lieutenant as they made their way up the wide marble staircase. Reaching the corridor above, they turned to the right in the direction of the death-chamber. "This is unseemly conduct, Se�or Dasso. My uncle is barely dead." Armand was standing before them, a naked blade in his hand. The intruders fell back. "Prince Armand—you here!" "It seems so, gentlemen. This is a curious way to pay one's respect to the dead." Gabriel Dasso stood with bowed head. "I did not expect——" "I did not intend that you should, Se�or Dasso. Put up your weapon, Mozara, the guards are within call." A moment's silence, then Dasso spoke. "Your Majesty's appearance is timely. The people will be calling for you. They will want to greet the new king." Armand smiled. "Perhaps you will lend me the notes of your own speech for the occasion, Dasso; I am rather unprepared. Besides, I do not act for myself, I act for the Queen." "The Queen?" "I said 'the Queen,' Se�or Dasso. To-night's blunder is not the only one you have made—you made one fifteen years ago when you did your hellish work in this palace." "You have taken service early, prince, under the banner of this adventuress, this——" "Se�or Dasso," Armand was speaking quietly, "the Queen has ordered that there shall be no bloodshed here to-night. You are forgetting yourself." He called, and four of the royal guard came from a passage behind him. "Show these gentlemen out. Dasso, I have no royal rank now, and can call you to account for this—by the bye," he added, as the guard closed round the discomfited men, "there will be a special edition of the Imparcial to-morrow morning. It will interest you." The escort left them at the door and Dasso and Mozara stood undecided on the great steps. Then, leaving their horses, they walked towards the gates. Once out of sight of the building, however, they stopped. Dasso was gnawing at his moustache in impotent fury. "They told me he was better at seven o'clock. The nurse herself told me. What cursed luck." They walked on again, taking a path that led into the shrubberies. For, perhaps, five minutes they strode on in silence, then the lieutenant halted and caught at his companion's arm. "Listen!" he said. From a path close at hand came the sound of running footsteps and the heavy breathing of a spent man. Then round the bend before them emerged the figure of Edward Sydney. With a little laugh Dasso barred his way. "So," he said. Edward pulled up short and stared at the wicked faces before him. "Gentlemen—you will let me—pass?" he gasped. "I don't think so, Mr. Sydney. Haven't this gentleman and myself, as you English say, a bone to pick with you?" Dasso smiled grimly as he spoke, a smile which caused a little shiver to pass over Edward and set him looking about him for a possible way of escape. They had met in one of the narrow paths. On either hand the tall mass of foliage made an impenetrable wall. A few paces away Edward could make out an alley-way which ran at right angles, and he told himself that with luck and a start of a few yards he would stand a good chance of evading capture among the tortuous twists and turns of the shrubbery. In the mean time he must temporize. "I cannot imagine what your excellency and I can have in common. We have met once—I think at Se�or Luazo's, wasn't it?" "We did meet there, Mr. Sydney, certainly, but it is about the lady who accompanied you here from England that I want to have a word with you." "You mean Miss Baxendale?" Dasso nodded. They had been moving along the path slowly as they were speaking, and Edward noted with satisfaction that now a few feet only separated him from the entrance to the alley. If only he could take the attention of the two men from himself for a moment.—A thought occurred to him. "Ah, yes—the young lady. If that is so, I think that this will interest you, Se�or Dasso." As he spoke he took from his breast pocket an envelope; it was, in fact, a London tailor's bill and was addressed to him at Belitha Villas, but in the gloom it served its purpose. Dasso took it and drew out the folded sheet of paper it contained, holding it up to catch the moon-rays which here and there penetrated the leafage surrounding them. Edward Povey seized the opportunity he had created, and, for the first and last time in his life, he struck a man. The blood surged joyously through his veins and sang a hymn of power in his brain as his fist shot out straight and true, and he felt the knuckles grind into the evil face of Gabriel Dasso. Then with a leap he had gained the dark alley way. Dasso put a hand to his face and called out to Mozara, and in a moment the lieutenant was giving chase. Edward heard the sound of running footsteps behind him and he mended his pace. On and on, turning and twisting, ran the poor exhausted little man. In some of the longer paths he would catch a fleeting glimpse over his shoulder of his pursuer, then a sudden plunge to the right or left separated them again. At last at the end of a more than usually straight run he found himself in the open. To retrace his steps was impossible, already Mozara was but twenty feet from him, the barrel of a revolver shining blue in his hand. Some hundred yards away the Palace rose, a dark mass against the star-powdered sky, and Edward knew that in the shadow of one of those buttresses lay the little staircase—and safety. Breathing a hurried prayer for help, he darted across the moon-swept lawns, running unevenly, now upright, now bent nearly double. A shot whined past his ear and he drew in his breath sharply, then another, then—a stinging pain took him in the left shoulder and Edward Povey knew that he had been hit. Almost at once the acute pain passed and his shoulder grew cold and numb and sticky. He faltered in his stride and all but fell, but the sight of the doorway gave him courage and again he stumbled on. It took him only two or three minutes to reach it, but to the stricken man it seemed as though he were running for hours. A fog appeared to have risen before his eyes, a reddish fog in which danced and trembled little points of flame—and through the mist he saw the face of Pia, who had been placed to guard the foot of the staircase—felt strong arms supporting him—then with a little sigh drooped into oblivion. ***** Edward came to his senses to find himself in a dimly lit chamber, with the face of the Princess Galva, white and drawn, bending over him, and her cool hand on his forehead. Beyond her, in the gloom of the room, were other faces. Anna was there, and the duke, and a strange man whom they addressed as doctor, and who now came forward and took Edward's wrist. The latter could catch here and there a word of what he was saying; the voice seemed to come from a great distance. "——unfortunate that it should be this room—locate the bullet—no, again in the morning perhaps—not to be moved—one of the sisters will watch—you can send for me if——" Then the faces grew blurred and swayed in circles round the wounded man, and again his senses left him. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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