"We returned almost immediately to the hotel," said my wife reproachfully. "We thought you would have waited for us there."
Glenbarth looked at me as if nothing I could ever do would make up for the enormity of my offence. He then described to Miss Trevor some wonderful photographs he had discovered that morning in a certain shop on the other side of the piazza. She questioned him concerning them, and I suggested that they should go off and overhaul them. This they did, and when they had departed my wife produced some letters for me she had taken from the rack at the hotel. I looked at the writing upon the envelope of the first, but for a moment could not recall where or when I had seen it before. Then I opened it and withdrew the contents.
"Why, it's from George Anstruther," I exclaimed when I had examined the signature. "He is in Algiers."
"But what is the letter about?" my wife inquired. "You have not heard from him for so long."
"I'll read it," I said, and began as follows —
"My dear Hatteras,
"Here I am in the most charming place on the whole Mediterranean, and I ought to know, for I've seen and loathed all the others. My villa overlooks the sea, and my yacht rides at anchor in the bay. There are many nice people here, and not the least pleasant is my very good friend, Don Josè de Martinos, who is leaving to-day for his first visit to Venice, viâ Nice, and I understand from him that he is to stay at your hotel. He is a delightful creature; has seen much of the world, and if you will admit him to the circle of your acquaintance, I don't think you will regret it. I need not bore either myself or you by repeating the hackneyed phrase to the effect that any civility you show him will be considered a kindness to myself, etc., etc. Remember me most kindly to Lady Hatteras, and
"Believe me to be,"Ever sincerely yours,"George Anstruther."
My wife uttered a little cry of vexation.
"Pleasant though he may prove, I cannot help saying that I am sorry Don Josè Martinos is coming," she said. "Our little party of four was so happily arranged, and who knows but that a fifth may upset its peace altogether?"
"But he is Anstruther's friend," I said in expostulation. "One must be civil to one's friends' friends."
"I do not at all see why," she answered. "Because we like Mr. Anstruther it does not follow that we shall like his friend."
At that moment the young couple were to be observed crossing the piazza in our direction. Glenbarth carried a parcel under his arm.
"I don't think there is much doubt about that affair," said my wife, as she regarded them approvingly.
"Don't be too sure," I answered. "There is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, and there is another old saying to the effect that those who live longest see most."
One is sometimes oracular even in jest.
CHAPTER VI
On the following day, having sent my servant to inquire, I was informed that the Don Josè de Martinos had arrived at the hotel, and had engaged rooms on the floor above our own. Accordingly, after luncheon I ascended to the rooms in question, and asked whether he would receive me. I had scarcely waited more than a minute before he made his appearance. He paused on the threshold to give an order to his man, and while he did so, I was permitted an opportunity of taking stock of him. He was a tall, muscular man of between thirty-five and forty years of age. His appearance did not betray so much of his Spanish origin as I had expected. Indeed, it would have been difficult to have given him a nationality. I noticed that his beard, which he wore closely clipped, was not innocent of the touch of Time. His face was a powerful one, but at first glance I was not altogether prepossessed in its favour. His hands and feet were small, the former particularly so for a man of his size and build. Moreover, he was faultlessly dressed, and carried himself with the air of a man of the world and of good breeding.
"Sir Richard Hatteras," he said, as he crossed the room to greet me, "this is kind of you indeed. My friend, Anstruther, informed me that you were in Venice, and was good enough to take upon himself the responsibility of introducing me to you."
His voice was strong and musical, and he pronounced every word (he spoke excellent English) as if it had a value of its own. I inquired after Anstruther's health, which for some time past had been precarious, and it was with satisfaction that I learnt of the improvement that had taken place in it.
"You would scarcely know him now," said Martinos. "He looks quite strong again. But permit me to offer you a cigar. We Spaniards say that we cannot talk unless we smoke; you English that you cannot smoke if you talk."
As he said this he handed me a box of cigars.
"I fancy you will like them," he said. "The tobacco was grown upon my own estate in Cuba; for that reason I can guarantee their purity."
The weed I selected was excellent, in fact one of the best cigars I had ever smoked. While he was lighting his I stole another glance at him. Decidedly he was a handsome man, but – here was the stumbling-block – there was something, I cannot say what, about him that I did not altogether like. It was not a crafty face, far from it. The eyes were well placed; the mouth from what one could see of it under his black moustache was well moulded, with white, even teeth; the nose was slightly aquiline; and the chin large, firm, and square. Nevertheless, there was something about it that did not suit my fancy. Once I told myself it was a cruel face, yet the singularly winning smile that followed a remark of mine a moment later went some way towards disabusing my mind upon that point.
"Lady Hatteras, I understood from Senor Anstruther, is with you," he said, after we had talked of other things.
"She is down-stairs at this moment," I answered. "We are a party of four – Miss Trevor (the daughter of the Dean of Bedminster), the Duke of Glenbarth, my wife, and myself. I hope you will permit me the pleasure of introducing you to them at an early date."
"I shall be most happy," he replied. "I am particularly fond of Venice, but, when all is said and done, one must have companions to enjoy it thoroughly."
I had been given to understand that this was his first visit to the Queen of the Adriatic, but I did not comment upon the fact.
"One is inclined to believe that Adam would have enjoyed the Garden of Eden if it had not been for Eve," I remarked, with a smile.
"Poor Adam," he answered, "I have always thought him a much-abused man. Unlike ourselves, he was without experience; he had a companion forced upon him who worked his ruin, and his loss on the transaction was not only physical but financial."
"How long do you contemplate remaining in Venice?" I asked, after the little pause that followed his last speech.
"I scarcely know," he answered. "My movements are most erratic. I am that most unfortunate of God's creatures, a wanderer on the face of the earth. I have no relations and few friends. I roam about as the fancy takes me, remain in a place as long as it pleases me, and then, like the Arab in the poem, silently take up my tent and move on as soon as the city I happen to be in at the time has lost its charm. I possess a pied-à-terre of four rooms in Cairo, I have lived amongst the Khabyles in the desert, and with the Armenians in the mountains. To sum it up, I have the instincts of the Wandering Jew, and fortunately the means of gratifying them."
What it was I cannot say, but there was something in his speech that grated upon my feelings. Whether what he had said were true or not, I am not in a position to affirm, but the impression I received was that he was talking for effect, and every one will know what that means.
"As you are such a globe-trotter," I said, "I suppose there is scarcely a portion of the world that you have not visited?"
"I have perhaps had more than my share of travelling," he answered. "I think I can safely say that, with the exception of South America, I have visited every portion of the known globe."
"You have never been in South America then?" I asked in some surprise.
"Never," he replied, and immediately changed the conversation by inquiring whether I had met certain of Anstruther's friends who were supposed to be on their way to Venice. A few minutes later, after having given him an invitation to dinner on the next evening, I bade him good-bye and left him. On my return my wife was eager to question me concerning him, but as things stood I did not feel capable of giving her a detailed reply. There are some acquaintances who, one feels, will prove friends from the outset; there are others who fill one from the first with a vague distrust. Not that I altogether distrusted Martinos, I had not seen enough of him to do that; at the same time, however, I could not conscientiously say, as I have already observed, that I was altogether prepossessed in his favour.
The following morning he accepted my invitation for that evening, and punctually at half-past seven he made his appearance in the drawing-room. I introduced him to my wife, and also to Miss Trevor when she joined us.
"My husband tells me that you are a great traveller," said Phyllis, after they had seated themselves. "He says you know the world as we know London."
"Your husband does me too much honour," he answered modestly. "From what I have heard of you, you must know the world almost as well as I do. My friend, Anstruther, has told me a romantic story about you. Something connected with a South Sea island, and a mysterious personage named – "
He paused for a moment as if to remember the name.
"Nikola," I said; "you do not happen to have met him, I suppose?"
"To my knowledge, never," he answered. "It is a strange surname."
At that moment Glenbarth entered the room, and I introduced the two men to each other. For some reason of my own I was quite prepared to find that the Duke would not take a fancy to our new acquaintance, nor was I destined to be disappointed. Before dinner was half over I could see that he had a great difficulty in being civil to the stranger. Had Martinos not been our guest, I doubt very much whether he would have been able to control himself. And yet the Spaniard laid himself out in every way to please. His attentions were paid chiefly to my wife, I do not believe that he addressed Miss Trevor more than a dozen times throughout the meal. Notwithstanding this fact, Glenbarth regarded him with evident animosity, insomuch that Miss Trevor more than once looked at him with an expression of positive alarm upon her face. She had not seen him in this humour before, and though she may have had her suspicions as to the reason of it, it was plain that she was far from approving of his line of action. When the ladies withdrew, and the wine was being circulated, I endeavoured to draw the two men into greater harmony with each other. The attempt, however, was unsuccessful. More than once Glenbarth said things which bordered on rudeness, until I began to feel angry with him. On one occasion, happening to look up suddenly from the cigar which I was cutting, I detected a look upon the Spaniard's face that startled me. It however showed me one thing, and that was the fact that despite his genial behaviour, Martinos had not been blind to the young man's treatment of himself, and also that, should a time ever arrive when he would have a chance of doing Glenbarth a mischief, he would not be forgetful of the debt he owed him. Matters were not much better when we adjourned to the drawing-room. Glenbarth, according to custom, seated himself beside Miss Trevor, and studiously ignored the Spaniard. I was more sorry for this than I could say. It was the behaviour of a school-boy, not that of a man of the world; and the worst part of it was, that it was doing Glenbarth no sort of good in the eyes of the person with whom he wished to stand best. The truth was the poor lad was far from being himself. He was suffering from an acute attack of a disease which has not yet received the proper attention of Science – the disease of first love. So overwhelmed was he by his passion, that he could not bear any stranger even to look upon the object of his adoration. Later in the evening matters reached their climax, when my wife asked the Don to sing.
"I feel sure that you do sing," she said in that artless way which women often affect.
"I try sometimes to amuse my friends," said he, and begging us to excuse him he retired to his own rooms, to presently return with a large Spanish guitar. Having taken a seat near the window, and when he had swept his fingers over the strings in a few preliminary chords, he commenced to sing. He was the possessor of a rich baritone, which he used with excellent effect. My wife was delighted, and asked him to sing again. Miss Trevor also expressed her delight, and seconded my wife's proposal. This was altogether too much for Glenbarth. Muttering something about a severe headache he hurriedly left the room. My wife and I exchanged glances, but Martinos and Miss Trevor did not appear to notice his absence. This time he sang a Spanish fishing-song, but I did not pay much attention to it. A little later the Don, having thanked us for our hospitality, took his departure, and when Miss Trevor had said good-night to us, and had retired to her own room, my wife and I were left alone together.
"What could have made the Duke behave like that?" she said.
"He is madly in love, my dear, and also madly jealous," I answered. "I hope and trust, however, that he is not going to repeat this performance."
"If he does he will imperil any chance he has of winning Gertrude's love," she replied. "He will also place us in a decidedly awkward position."
"Let this be a lesson to you, my dear, never to play with fire again," I replied. "You bring two inflammable people together, and wonder that there should be an explosion."
"Well, I'm really very angry with him. I don't know what the Don Josè must have thought."
"Probably he thought nothing about it," I replied. "You mustn't be too angry with Glenbarth, however. Leave him to me, and I'll talk to him. To-morrow, I promise you, he'll be sorry for himself. If I know anything of women, Gertrude will make him wish he had acted differently."
"I don't think she will bother about the matter. She has too much sense."
"Very well; we shall see."
I then bade her go to bed, promising myself to sit up for Glenbarth, who, I discovered, had gone out. It was nearly midnight when he returned. I noticed that every trace of ill-humour had vanished from his face, and that he was quite himself once more.
"My dear Dick," he said, "I don't know how to apologize for my ridiculous and rude behaviour of to-night. I am more ashamed of myself than I can say. I behaved like a child."
Because he happened to be in a repentant mood I was not going to let him off the chastising I felt that I ought to give him.
"A nice sort of young fellow you are, upon my word," I said, putting down the paper I had been reading as I spoke. "I've a very good mind to tell you exactly what I think of you."
"It would be only wasting your time," he returned. "For you can't think half as badly of me as I do of myself. I can't imagine what made me do it."
"Can't you?" I said. "Well, I can, and as you are pretty certain to catch it in one particular quarter to-morrow, I fancy, on mature reflection, that I can afford to forgive you. The man had done you no harm; he not only did not interfere with you, but he was not trespassing upon your – "
"Don't speak of him," said the young fellow, flaring up at once. "If I think of him I shall get angry again. I can't bear the look of the beggar."
"Steady, my young friend, steady," I returned. "You mustn't call other people's friends by that name."
"He is not your friend," said Glenbarth excitedly. "You've never seen him until to-night, and you've known me ever since I was about so high."
"I began to imagine you only 'so high' this evening," I said. "It's a good thing for you that the wife has gone to bed, or I fancy you would have heard something that would have made your ears tingle. After the foolish manner of women, she has come to the conclusion that she would like you to marry Miss Trevor."
"God bless her!" he said fervently. "I knew that she was my friend."
"In that case you would probably have enjoyed a friend's privilege, had you been here to-night before she retired, and have received a dressing-down that is usually reserved for her husband. I live in hopes that you may get it to-morrow."
"Bosh!" he answered. "And now, if you have forgiven me, I think I will go to bed. I've had enough of myself for one day."
With that we shook hands, and bade each other good-night. At his bedroom door he stopped me.
"Do you think she will forgive me?" he asked, as humbly as would a boy who had been caught stealing sugar-plums.
"My wife," I answered. "Yes, I think it is very probable that she will."
"No, no; how dense you are; I mean – " Here he nodded his head in the direction of the room occupied by Miss Trevor.
"You'll have to find out that for yourself," I replied, and then went on to my dressing-room.
"That will give your Grace something to think about all night," I said, as I took off my coat.
As it turned out, I was destined to be fairly accurate in the prophecy I had made concerning Miss Trevor's treatment of Glenbarth on the morrow. At breakfast she did not altogether ignore him, but when I say that she devoted the larger share of her attention to myself, those of my readers who are married, and have probably had the same experience, will understand. My wife, on the other hand, was affability itself, and from her behaviour toward him appeared to be quite willing to forgive and forget the unfortunate episode of the previous evening. I chuckled to myself, but said nothing. He was not at the end of his punishment yet.
All that day we saw nothing of Martinos. Whether he remained at home or went abroad we could not say. On returning to the hotel to lunch, however, we discovered a basket of roses in the drawing-room, with the Don's card tied to the handle.
"Oh, what lovely flowers!" cried my wife in an ecstasy. "Look, Gertrude, are they not beautiful?"
Miss Trevor cordially admired them; and in order, I suppose, that Glenbarth's punishment might be the more complete, begged for a bud to wear herself. One was given her, while I watched Glenbarth's face over the top of the letter I was reading at the moment. My heart was touched by his miserable face, and when he and my wife had left the room to prepare for lunch, I determined to put in a good word for him.
"Miss Gertrude," I said, "as an old friend I have a favour to ask of you. Do you think you can grant it?"
"You must first tell me what it is," she said, with a smile upon her face. "I know from experience that you are not to be trusted."
"A nice sort of character for a family man," I protested. "Lady Hatteras has been telling tales, I can see."
"Your wife would never tell a tale of any one, particularly of you," she asserted. "But what would you ask of me?"
"Only a plea for human happiness," I said with mock gravity. "I have seen absolute despair written indelibly on a certain human countenance to-day, and the sight has troubled me ever since. Are you aware that there is a poor young man in this hotel, whose face opens like a daisy to the sun when you smile upon him, and closes in the darkness of your neglect?"
"How absurd you are!"
"Why am I absurd?"
"Because you talk in this fashion."
"Will you smile upon him again? He has suffered a great deal these last two days."
"Really you are too ridiculous. I don't know what you mean."
"That is not the truth, Miss Trevor, and you know it."
"But what have I done wrong?"
"That business with the rose just now, for instance, was cruel, to say the least of it."
"Really, Sir Richard, you do say such foolish things. If I want a rose to wear surely I may have one. But I must not stay talking to you, it's five-and-twenty minutes past one. I must go and get ready for lunch."
I held open the door for her, and as she passed I said —
"You will do what I ask? Just to please me?"
"I don't know what you mean, but I will think it over," she replied, and then departed to her room.
She must have done as she promised, for the rose was absent from her dress when she sat down to lunch. Glenbarth noticed it, and from that moment his drooping spirits revived.
That afternoon my wife and I went down to meet the P. and O. mail-boat, in order to discover some friends who were on their way to Egypt. As neither the Duke of Glenbarth nor Miss Trevor were acquainted with them they were excused from attendance. When we joined them it was plain that all traces of trouble had been removed, and in consequence the Duke was basking in the seventh heaven of happiness. Had I asked the young man at that moment for half his estates I believe he would willingly have given them to me. He would have done so even more willingly had he known that it was to my agency that he owed the wondrous change in his affairs. For some reason of her own Miss Trevor was also in the best of spirits. My wife was happy because her turtle-doves were happy, and I beamed upon them all with the complacency of the God out of the machine.
All this time I had been wondering as to the reason why we had not heard or seen anything of Nikola. Why I should have expected to do so I cannot say, but after the events of three evenings ago, I had entertained a vague hope that I should have seen him, or that he would have communicated with me in some form or another. We were to see him, however, before very long.
We had arranged to visit the Academy on our return from the mail-boat, where my wife was anxious to renew her acquaintance with the Titans. For my own part I am prepared to admit that my knowledge of the pictures is not sufficiently cultivated to enable me to derive any pleasure from the constant perusal of these Masters. Phyllis and Miss Trevor, however, managed to discover a source of considerable satisfaction in them. When we left the gallery, we made our way, according to custom, in the direction of the piazza of Saint Mark. We had not advanced very far upon our walk, however, before I chanced to turn round, to discover, striding after us, no less a person than our new acquaintance, Don Josè Martinos. He bowed to the ladies, shook hands with myself, and nodded to the Duke.
"If you are proceeding in the direction of the piazza, will you permit me to accompany you?" he asked, and that permission having been given by my wife, we continued our walk. What Glenbarth thought of it I do not know, but as he had Miss Trevor to himself, I do not see that he had anything to complain of. On reaching Florian's café, we took our customary seats, the Don placing himself next to my wife, and laying himself out to be agreeable. Once he addressed Glenbarth, and I was astonished to see the conciliatory manner that the other adopted towards him.
"Now that he sees that he has nothing to fear, perhaps he will not be so jealous," I said to myself, and indeed it appeared as if this were likely to be the case. I was more relieved by this discovery than I could say. As we should probably be some time in Venice, and the Don had arrived with the same intention, and we were to be located in the same hotel, it was of the utmost importance to our mutual comforts that there should be no friction between the two men. But enough of this subject for the present. There are other matters to be considered. In the first place I must put on record a curious circumstance. In the light of after events it bears a strange significance, and he would be a courageous man who would dare to say that he could explain it.
It must be borne in mind, in order that the importance of what I am now about to describe may be plainly understood, that Miss Trevor was seated facing me, that is to say, with her back towards the Cathedral of St. Mark. She was in the best of spirits, and at the moment was engaged in an animated discussion with my wife on the effect of Ancient Art upon her bête noir, the Cockney tourist. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, her face grew deathly pale, and she came to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence. Fortunately no one noticed it but my wife and myself, and as she was herself again in a moment, we neither of us called attention to it. A moment later I glanced across the square, and to my amazement saw no less a person than Doctor Nikola approaching us. Was it possible that Miss Trevor, in some extraordinary manner, had become aware of his proximity to her, or was it only one of those strange coincidences that are so difficult to explain away? I did not know what to think then, nor, as a matter of fact, do I now.
Reaching our party, Nikola raised his hat to the ladies.
"I fear, Lady Hatteras," he said, "that I must have incurred your displeasure for keeping your husband so long away from you the other night. If so, I hope you will forgive me."
"I will endeavour to do so," said my wife with a smile, "but you must be very careful how you offend again."
Then turning to Miss Trevor, he said, "I hope you will grant me your gracious intercession, Miss Trevor?"
"I will do my best for you," she answered, with a seriousness that made my wife and I look at her.
Then Nikola shook hands with Glenbarth, and glanced at the Don.
"Permit me to introduce you to Don Josè de Martinos, Doctor Nikola," I said; "he has lately arrived from Algiers."
The two men bowed gravely to each other.
"You are fond of travelling, I presume, Senor," said Nikola, fixing his eyes upon the Don.
"I have seen a considerable portion of the world," the other answered. "I have seen the Midnight Sun at Cape North and the drift ice off the Horn."
"And have not found it all barren," Nikola remarked gravely.
From that moment the conversation flowed smoothly. Miss Trevor had quite recovered herself, and I could see that the Don was intensely interested in Nikola. And indeed on this particular occasion the latter exerted himself to the utmost to please. I will admit, however, that something not unlike a shudder passed over me as I contrasted his present affability with his manner when he had threatened the unfortunate Police Agent a few nights before. Now he was a suave, pleasant-mannered man of the world, then he figured almost as an avenging angel; now he discussed modern literature, then I had heard him threaten a human being with the direst penalties that it was possible for man to inflict. When it was time for us to return to our hotel, Nikola rose and bade us good-bye.
"I hope you will permit me the pleasure of seeing more of you while you are in Venice," said Nikola, addressing the Don. "If you are an admirer of the old palaces of this wonderful city, and our friends will accompany you, I shall be delighted to show you my own poor abode. It possesses points of interest that many of the other palaces lack, and, though it has fallen somewhat to decay, I fancy you will admit that the fact does not altogether detract from its interest."
"I shall hasten to avail myself of the opportunity you are kind enough to offer me," the other replied, after which they bowed ceremoniously to each other and parted.
"Your friend is an extraordinary man," said the Don as we walked towards the steps. "I have never met a more interesting person. Does he altogether reside in Venice?"
"Oh dear, no," I replied. "If one were asked to say where Nikola had his abode it would be almost necessary to say 'in the world.' I myself met him first in London, afterwards in Egypt, then in Australia, and later on in the South Sea Islands. Now we are together again in Venice. I have good reason for knowing that he is also familiar with China and Thibet. He himself confesses to a knowledge of Africa and Central America."
"To Central America?" said the Don quickly. "Pray what part of Central America does he know?"
"That I am unable to say," I replied. "I have never questioned him upon the subject."
From that moment the Don almost exclusively addressed himself to my wife, and did not refer to Nikola again. We parted in the hall of the hotel. Next morning we saw him for a few moments at the post-office, but at no other time during the day. On the following day he accompanied us on an excursion to Chioggia, and dined with us afterwards. Though I knew that Glenbarth still disliked him, his hostility was so veiled as to be scarcely noticeable. Towards the end of the evening a note was brought to me. One glance at the handwriting upon the envelope was sufficient to show me that it was from Nikola. It ran as follows —
"My dear Hatteras,
"Remembering your friend Don Martinos' desire to see my poor palace, I have written to ask him if he will dine with me to-morrow evening at eight o'clock. If I can persuade you and the Duke of Glenbarth to give me the pleasure of your society, I need scarcely say that you will be adding to my delight.
"Sincerely yours,"Nikola."
"You have not of course received your letter yet," I said, addressing the Don. "What do you say to the invitation?"
"I shall accept it only too willingly," he answered without delay. "Provided, of course, you will go too."
"Have you any objection to raise, Duke?" I asked, addressing Glenbarth.
I could see that he was not very anxious to go, but under the circumstances he could not very well refuse.
"I shall be very happy," he answered.
And for once in his life he deliberately said what he knew to be untrue.