this ebook was one of project gutenberg's early files produced at a time when proofing methods and tools were not well developed. there is an improved edition of this title which may be viewed as ebook (#1522) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1522 ******************************************************************* ******************************************************************* this ebook was one of project gutenberg's early files produced at a time when proofing methods and tools were not well developed. there is an improved edition of this title which may be viewed as ebook (#100) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/100 ******************************************************************* [illustration: cover art] less than human a short story by zoë blade © 2008 zoë blade. distributed under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-no derivative works 3.0 license. from the roof of the legal bookstore, i have a clear shot at my target, jon russell. he's sitting down at a table outside a café where chancery lane meets fleet street, sipping a cardboard cup of coffee. i briefly ponder how ironic it seems that he's actually bought a drink; it must be for show, although there's no way that he can tell that right now he has a very specific audience. even in the sunshine, the guiding beam of my tripod mounted rifle is brightly illuminating a thick circle of skin on his neck, just below his white beard, but even if any of the passersby can see infrared as well as i can, they won't have time to do anything even if they notice it. my eyes are already over two years old now, but they were expensive enough at the time to still be considered detailed even by today's standards. with their magnification, i can see the circle of light on his neck clearly, growing steadier with every passing second as a familiar cocktail of drugs calms my metabolism. i try not to let the laser's fan distract me. the guidance beam's one thing, but the main laser, the one that generates the lethal pulse, gives off heat like you wouldn't believe. with the midday sun shining straight down on me, the laser needs all the cooling it can get, and the fan sounds like someone's standing next to me, drying her hair. once i can hold the laser still enough, i brace myself. for just a few precious seconds, i let myself ponder the consequences of what i'm about to do. i'm about to execute this guy, but although he's broken the law, i'm no sheriff. i think about the effect that what i'm about to do will have on people who look up to jon russell, and that makes me nervous. i have nothing against them; if anything, i actually sympathise with their cause. i put the thought out of my mind. it's unprofessional, a pause at best and a hindrance at worst. it's far too late to start developing emotions at this stage of my career, after months of training and almost three years of missions. i pull the trigger, just for half a second, my eyes momentarily shielding themselves from the visible end of the beam on his neck. there's no recoil on my weapon, giving it the eerie feel of a simulation. the only sign that it's firing is a loud popping noise like someone squashing a bag of crisps. it's over in an instant. i can almost convince myself that i haven't done anything wrong, but not quite. the bright circle is instantly replaced with a gushing stream of blood, pumping out in rhythmical bursts. his cardboard cup drops to the floor, and i unscrew the rifle from the tripod, duck below the top of the brick wall of the bookstore, fold up the tripod and put everything in my holdall, hidden beneath a pair of jogging bottoms. in a fleece, t-shirt and designer jeans, i hopefully pass for someone on her way to one of the gyms scattered around the legal district, where people who help corporations sue their customers for a living would feel far too inconvenienced by taking a detour on their way home just to stay in shape. i put on a pair of designer sunglasses to cover up my designer eyes, as if anyone could spot their telltale trademark without being close enough to kiss me, then i pull the scrunchy out of my hair and tie it in again, keeping my dark brown ponytail as taut and professional as it is glossy. by the time anyone can work out what happened to russell and where the brief burst of energy came from, i'm already half way down the fire escape. by the time anyone's dialed the emergency services, i'm already briskly walking down fleet street and out of the scene. "remind me why i had to kill russell." i drop my bag onto the desk of my boss, mike vegas, and it lands with a satisfying thud. frankly, i'm glad to be rid of the evidence, if only until tomorrow. "because it's your job." mike slides the bag under his desk without even glancing at its contents, then finally looks up to meet my gaze. his facial expression looks as blank as usual to me, but a piece of software i installed on my eyes starts flashing up a translucent yellow warning sign, pointing out that he's making tiny involuntary movements--a momentary flicker of the cheek here, a curl of the lip there. nothing a human could consciously spot, but my eyes have a sufficient refresh rate and resolution to pick up that sort of thing. the bottom line is that he's uncharacteristically uncomfortable, for whatever reason. "you know what i mean," i continue. "he was hardly violent. don't you think that actually having him taken out was kind of overkill on godin's part?" "it's not our job to question our clients' motives, only their ability to pay. besides, he was a liability. copyright violation is one of the most serious crimes there is these days, given the structure of our fragile economy." he gets up and makes his way to a shelf filled with various photos and figurines, where he pours himself a shot of whiskey from an expensive looking decanter. as he glances back at me, i decline his offer of the same with a subtle shake of my head. call me paranoid, but in my line of work, i never could feel comfortable if i was anything less than a hundred percent sober. "they couldn't just have him running around pirating their intellectual property," mike continues. "but it's _food_," i protest. "it's not like it's a rich kid's luxury like music or films. there are homeless people i've seen eating decent meals thanks to him." "there are plenty of public domain staple foods. the homeless can eat the same handouts as the starving children in africa: rice, grains, vegetables, pulses. no one's trying to stop people from eating. they have more than enough to live on." he takes a sip of his drink. "all godin want to do is ensure the uniqueness of the very specific dishes served in their chain of five-star restaurants, so don't give me any of that melodramatic bollocks about starving homeless people just because they have to eat boiled rice and steamed vegetables instead of _foie gras en brioche_." "it still doesn't feel right." "which brings me to my next point. have you given any more thought to my offer? most people would kill for another free synaptic implant." "that all depends on the implant. the uplink to the mesh and the map are all well and good, but i'm still not sure about suppressing my emotions. it just seems so... inhuman." "as opposed to all the drugs you take to calm you down as you make the hit?" "at least they wear off after a few minutes." i walk past the shelf and look out the window at the scenic view of the city, taking a moment to watch the clouds drift along in the summer breeze. the trees are such a vibrant green this time of year, they look somehow unreal, set against the pale grey concrete blocks that people waste their lives in. i quickly inspect all the nearby rooftops, making sure nobody's on any of them. old habits. "you know, i've been thinking a lot lately, and between the implants and the drugs, i'm beginning to feel less and less like a real woman and more and more like some kind of machine, just efficiently fulfilling her job role and nothing else." "efficiently?" i hear mike practically choking on his drink. i turn back around to face him. "is there something wrong with my performance?" "i've been running over the encrypted video feed of the hit that your eyes sent me." it wasn't exactly a secret he kept from me that when i was on the job, my eyes sent an encrypted live broadcast straight to the office, hidden in the mesh's entropy. talk about your body betraying you. i had to take vegas's word for it that he couldn't spy on me when i was off duty. it was something i tried hard not to think about every time i had a shower. just the thought gave me the shivers. "you stalled. your heartrate had slowed down just fine, you were as calm as a cow, and yet you didn't fire until almost five seconds later. why the pause?" "he was drinking a cup of coffee at a table. i could tell he was going to be there for at least another two minutes. it made no difference." "i didn't ask you if you thought it would make a difference. i asked you why you paused. i hire you because you're the sort of woman who knows better than to take unnecessary risks. why did you wait so long?" i let myself sigh. "ok, so i felt a _little_ empathy towards the target. he'd never hurt anybody. i mean, i read his profile. he was essentially a good man." "which is exactly what i'm talking about. we can't afford to let your personal opinions and morals slow you down when you're at work. those profiles are there to help you to better understand the targets, to better predict them, not to make you feel an emotional attachment towards them. you can do whatever you want at home, donate your wage to charity, i don't care, but when you're out in the field, i need you to be there for me, performing at a hundred percent." "yes, sir," i say reluctantly. he talks into his glass as he swishes around the remaining dribble of whiskey, as if he has trouble meeting my eyes for once. "someone will meet with you on your way out." this takes me by surprise. i don't need the red warning label that's suddenly superimposed over my vision to tell me that something's wrong. "who?" "a doctor. i'd like to run a few checks on you, just to be on the safe side." if he's not outright lying, then my software's convinced that he's at least hiding something from me. "checks?" "yeah. checks." he takes another sip of his drink. my paranoia starts to kick in as i realise how easy it would be for him to kill me, just as long as he took me unaware. for all my jacked up reflexes and painstakingly learned skills, in light of the new wholly artificial employees our rivals have been raving about, i'm starting to look a lot like an old decca television set in a room full of sony projectors. in all likelihood, mike would have had me killed months ago already if i wasn't still so damned good. "and suzi?" "yes?" our eyes meet again, at last. "do yourself a favour. don't get emotionally involved. it's just business." "i know." i walk out the door, not looking back. "well, all your tests show you're operating within specs," says the man that mike claims to be some sort of medical doctor. "that's a relief," i say sarcastically. "nevertheless, i'm still concerned about these certain imperfections in your performance. i just can't seem to find a neurological or physiological source for them." "did it ever occur to you that i'm only human?" a grunt serves him as laughter. "isn't that your main selling point? from what i hear, you're mike's poster girl. maybe even the whole industry's." he looks me up and down, and i fight the urge to pull out the knife i'm carrying and gouge his inferior eyes out. "shame no one knows what you look like." perhaps sensing my obvious discomfort, he changes the subject. "you know how few of you there are left in your line of work?" by 'you,' i assume he means humans. "less than a dozen, by our estimates. worldwide. you're a rarity." i let myself flash a brief smile. professional pride. "a dying breed, you might say," he adds with a chuckle. i feel my whole body tense up. "there's one more test i'd like to carry out on you. it will take several hours, but thankfully i don't actually need you to be present for it so you can go and do whatever you like. i just need to take a relatively quick backup of your brain's neural pathways first, then you can go home and get some rest." "a neural backup?" "it won't hurt, i promise." another warning sign pops up next to his face, and i finally decide it's time to kick into defence mode. there's no discernible change from an outsider's perspective, but inside my brain and its hardware, a dozen little defence applications are springing to life, waiting for my signal that they should start wreaking havoc. i usually slip into this mode several times a week, but in my line of work it's safer to err on the side of paranoia. "what's this really for? insurance in case i mess up?" "i can't slip anything past you." the doctor grins, revealing two rows of surprisingly well worn teeth. "let's just say your employer doesn't like to take chances, and you're the best person in the business." "from what you're saying, i'm pretty much the _only_ person in the business." "exactly. now, please, lie down here while i perform a quick scan of your neural pathways. it'll only take a few minutes." for some reason, i black out. i feel rain on my face, a light drizzle. my nostrils fill with the scent of wet plants and damp soil. i open my eyes to discover that i'm lying on a park bench less than a mile from my flat. that's never happened to me before: i've always stayed awake just fine for brain scans in the past, both objectively and subjectively. i summon my clock application, its translucent display fading into my vision and out again for just long enough for me to tell that i was out for almost two hours, which is about right for the journey home. i stand up, a little giddy at first, and tentatively start to make my way through the park. by the time i'm striding through the streets, stepping around all the puddles on the pavement, i've had a few minutes to reflect on the day's events. i decide not to let mike or his crony doctor get to me. let him be pissed off at me. i'm the last human assassin. replacing me with an android would be a terrible pr move, and he knows it. still, i can't overlook the fact that _something_ is terribly wrong, although it's probably just healthy paranoia on my part to assume that it concerns me at all. maybe he's just shielding me from some dull business problems he's having. whatever it is, i'm glad i don't have to think about it anymore tonight. as i walk into my driveway, i think about how i can spend the rest of the evening. maybe a hot shower followed by a stir fry and a nature documentary. both the matter and the subject matter were popular torrents on my favourite swedish tracker the previous week. it really puts my job into perspective when i'm reminded how the human race is the only species that isn't still wrapped up in daily life-or-death struggles for food, or at least, not for copyright free food. as i approach my block of flats, for some reason i feel uneasy. i realise something's wrong, although i can't quite work out what it is yet. i switch to defence mode yet again as i press the palm of my hand against the security pad, look into the retina scanner and open the door as quietly as i can. to my surprise, my eyes' apps seem to have been upgraded. i have them set not to update automatically, which means they must have been switched while i was out from the brain scan. no wonder i lost consciousness: they'd been altering me, not just passively examining me. i switch modes again, figuring that it's better to take my chances on my own, rather than risk firing off unknown software that could do anything from crash to sabotage me. i creep along the corridor, then open the door to my flat just as quietly. i switch my eyes to +ir mode so that they overlay the infrared frequencies of the electromagnetic radiation around me over the top of the human-visible ones. the eerie glow of the walls and pipes is familiar enough, but the human sized and shaped blob glowing in the living room isn't. i switch the vision to only twenty percent infrared overlay so that i don't have as much information to distract me, and i brace myself. i keep two katanas hung up decoratively on the wall in my living room, and with the element of surprise i might manage to grab one before the intruder knows i'm there. i have no idea if he or she is even armed, so i don't want to take any chances. the blur moves like she or he is about to stand up, so i run into the room as quickly as i can and grab a katana. despite bracing myself, i'm not prepared for what i see next. * * * the figure dashes for the other katana, then leaps back to the other side of the room so we can properly study each other. i can see her clearly now, from her thermal imprint to the deep brown colour of the artificial eyes hidden behind her epicanthic folds. in every discernible way, she looks identical to me. she's even wearing the fleece, t-shirt and jeans i picked out this morning. even more incredibly, she looks just as confused as i feel. "oh, that's just perfect," she says. "did mike send you?" "_what_?" i don't take my eyes off her. her face is serious; her poise calculated. she's ready to attack me without warning, just waiting to know for sure that i'm a threat. i nod, gesturing towards her. "who _are_ you?" "suzi yamada," she says. "that's impossible!" "evidently it isn't." she speaks without moving her head a single degree, watching me carefully. "listen, i've had a _really_ bad day today. some phony doctor tried to kill me earlier, and it doesn't look like you're shaping up to be any friendlier." "you killed him?" i ask. "it's a habit." she lunges towards me, her sword pointed directly at my chest, aiming straight for my heart. i manage to nudge her blade out of the way of my body with my own sword, redirecting the force of her sprint away from me. "i didn't come here to kill you. can't we just talk like civilised adults?" i then sweep my blade around, aiming to slice off her bicep, but she similarly counters my move. in a weird sort of way, it's exhilarating to finally have a worthy opponent to fight--someone who could actually beat me. "let me guess." she swings her blade around to my hip and i counter it. "the last thing you remember is mike sending you to some creepy bastard who gave you a brain scan, then you just woke up somewhere strange." "how do you know that?" i try to stab her in the stomach, but she sweeps my blade away. "surely it must have occurred to you by now that one of us is an android." "actually, i'd kinda been preoccupied." "so why'd they build you?" "how do you know they didn't build _you_?" "because androids are damned near infallible," she says as i take one last sweep at her neck. "and you're better than me." as i'm taking in what she's said, my sword's edge slices through the air towards her neck. i lunge backwards, managing to just barely nick her skin instead of slicing her head clean off. she starts to bleed a tiny dribble of bright red blood, but i know she'll live. "you've got a point." i stare at the blood. _real_ blood. "and _we've_ got a problem." "we can't trust each other?" "trust is simply a matter of being able to predict someone's moves. since i'm a pretty good facsimile of you, i figure we can both predict each other just fine by working out what we would do in each other's situation." it just doesn't feel right calling myself a copy. have i really become a commodity? i keep my sword raised, on guard just in case the other suzi tries anything. "so what's the problem?" "our boss tried to kill you." "you mean you've had a change of heart?" "i'd like to propose an alternative, but we're going to have to trust each other." i throw my katana onto the floor as a sign of good faith. while i'm not exactly ready to commit _harakiri_ just yet, suddenly my imitation of a life doesn't seem to be worth fighting for so hard. i figure that if either one of us lives on, i haven't really lost much. the gamble's worth it, because if she'll go along with my plan--and i'm pretty sure she will, because i'm pretty sure i would--then we can both get what we deserve. mike doesn't get into his office until seven the next morning. when he sees me, he freezes, and for just a second he reveals fear in his eyes. "you're early," he says. i briefly wonder how much effort he's putting into keeping his voice steady, trying his best not to give away how scared he is, but that brief glance has already betrayed his fear. he knows the doctor's dead. i figure i should have taken him up on his offer a few months back to join in his poker games. i'd have made a fortune off him. "i didn't get much sleep." i figure i can trust him not to try to kill me yet because i haven't revealed my intentions. he's far too trusting like that. the right move would have been to kill me as soon as he saw me in the room. but he can't do that. he needs me. so i turn my back to him, walking up to the window. "bad night?" asks mike, feigning ignorance. "you could say that. when i got home, i found an intruder waiting for me." "my god!" says mike. "what happened?" "i dispatched her, naturally." the first rule in my line of work is never trust anybody, not even somebody pretending to be your friend. "_her_?" asks mike, pretending to be shocked by her gender, knowing full well how rare human assassins are, let alone women. i nod silently. "did she say anything?" asks mike. "no, nothing. she didn't have a chance to." "wow," says mike. "i guess that's too bad, in a way." i shrug. "we all get what's coming to us, eventually. she just wasn't smart enough to quit while she was ahead." mike sighs. "i'm not an idiot, you know. you have to understand, it's business, nothing personal." he's sweating now. i watch a little bead of perspiration make its way down his forehead. "how much do you know?" i make my way to the shelf and pour a shot of whiskey. "it's a bit early for that, isn't it?" "special occasion," i insist. it always helps to inebriate your opponent, to give yourself any edge over him that you can when it comes to reflexes. "i know how attached people can get to certain ways of doing things. the comfort of the familiar." i look at my glass thoughtfully. "i think it's time to make a clean break." i get another glass, pour another shot, and hand it to him. raising my glass, i declare a toast. "to the future." mike has a dubious look in his eye like he knows i'm up to _something_, just not what. for a manager, he sure lacks vision. he looks out the window at the ant-like people all those floors below, oblivious to the woman pointing a high powered laser rifle straight at him from the next block along, and raises his glass. "to--" despite giving my new business partner the order to fire, the laser burst still somehow makes me jump. i've never seen it up close before. on the receiving end, it's deadly silent, the only sound being the sloshed gurgles of the target. the smell, on the other hand, is overwhelming--searing flesh with a hint of burnt cotton from his shirt. the great thing about biometrics is that they still work when the person's dead. with the help of mike's eyes and fingers, it takes me less than five minutes to drain his bank accounts--both his company's and his own. _nothing personal_. sitting on a bench in the local park, i take a second to close my eyes and just listen to the birds. i open them again just in time to see a young woman waving at me as she walks towards me. to an outside observer, she looks like she could be my identical twin. i wave back, smiling as i watch her familiar mannerisms from an unfamiliar point of view. she sits down beside me. "how long do you reckon we've got 'til someone realises what happened to mike?" i shrug. "a few hours, maybe. long enough to get a few things from our flat, move the money to a safe account, and walk away." "ah, yes, the money." she smiles sweetly, a smile i've never seen outside of a mirror before. "what do you figure we should do with it?" "i say we take what's owed to us, enough to start a new life, and give the rest to jon russell's charity. he did bring about this turn of events, in a weird sort of way." she nods. "i guess so." after a few seconds' silent reflection, she turns to look at me. "and us?" "i've been thinking about that," i say. "i think we could continue to do what we're doing, only freelance. if you're up for it, i mean. we'd have to really start trusting each other, but at least we'd get to choose our clients, and we'd get to stay human. well, you would, anyway." that smile again, turning into a broad grin. "twin assassins? no one would see it coming. it's a hell of an edge." "exactly." i smile back at my new business partner. maybe things didn't turn out so bad after all. transcriber's note: this etext was produced from imagination stories of science and fantasy january 1955. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. the dictator _by_ _milton lesser_ ellaby's society was a perfect democracy, where all men were equal. but some still wanted more personal attention, and they got it, like- * * * * * just looking at ellaby, you could tell he was going places. he was five feet nine inches tall and weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. he had an i. q. of ninety-eight point five-seven, less than four hundredths off the mode. his hair was mousey and worn slightly long for a man, slightly short for a woman. back in high falls, where he was born, he was physically weaker than sixty percent of the men but stronger than sixty percent of the women. he had been in training since his twentieth birthday to assassinate the dictator. ellaby was now thirty years old. dorcas sinclair met ellaby at the pneumo-station. she was too big and strapping for a woman, but otherwise not unattractive with her lusterless hair, slightly thick-featured face, small sagging bosom and heavy-calved legs. "i'll take your bags," she told ellaby, and led him from the station. she walked quickly, but not too quickly. you always had to find the happy medium, thought ellaby. for ellaby, finding the happy medium had always come easy. ten years ago, when ellaby had been graduated from the high falls secondary school, the four words most likely to succeed had been printed under his picture in the yearbook. it was expected by everyone: young ellaby had learned his three r's--rules, rights, responsibilities--satisfactorily. ellaby had neither excelled nor failed: he was by nature a first class citizen. running to keep up with the too big, too long-legged dorcas sinclair who was carrying one of his suitcases in each hand, ellaby was led from the pneumo-station. the splendid, unimaginative geometric precision of the capitol stretched out before him in the dazzling summer sunlight, the view serving as a leaven for ellaby's usually phlegmatic disposition. he could feel his spirits rise, his heart thump more rapidly, speeding the sudden flow of adrenalin through his body. [illustration] this was the city. it was here where the fruits of whatever had gone wrong in ellaby's upbringing or whatever had gone wrong in the linear arrangement of his genes would ripen. it was here where ellaby, modal ellaby would pass his tests for top-secret work; unsuspected, average ellaby, would write his name in flaming letters across the pages of history. it was here where ellaby would kill the dictator. and after that--what? chaos? a new order based not on modality but something else? ellaby wasn't sure. no one in the organization knew for sure. the concept was staggering to ellaby. it was the system--or nothing. well, let the others worry about it. they did the planning. ellaby was only the executioner. * * * * * the house was like all the others on the block, all the others in the capitol, a grimly solid structure of lets-pretend brick fronting on a street which faded into distant haze, straight as a ruled line, to north and south, crossing the east-west avenues at precise right angles every five hundred feet. the grid pattern city, ellaby remembered from his rights course in school, (every man has the right to a room and bath in any city as long as he is employed) made the best use of available space for houses. the strip city is unnecessary in time of peace--was there ever, had there ever been any other time? the radial city is preferred for rapid transportation, being the accepted pattern in the great economic hubs and ports like greater new york and hampton roads. "you will have to live here with me" dorcas sinclair told ellaby, "until you pass your tests for employment. i don't have to tell you how much depends on the outcome of those tests, ellaby." "but i can't fail them. i thought you knew my record." with an unnerving unmodal violence, dorcas sinclair's strong fingers dug into the flabby muscle of ellaby's upper arm. "well, you had better not," she said, her large teeth hardly parting to let the sounds out. ellaby was suddenly alarmed. he had had very little truck with people of this sort. they were as unpredictable as the weather in high falls which having a population under twenty-five thousand, had never qualified for weather control. unlike modal man, they had never been exhaustively studied. their likes and dislikes were not catered to, but their passions couldn't be predicted, either. "ease up, dorcas," a deep voice said from the doorway leading to the kitchen. ellaby stared in that direction gratefully. it was indecent for a woman, for anyone, to expose her emotions that way. ellaby was almost inclined to thank the stranger. "stranger, nothing!" ellaby blurted aloud. ellaby's face reddened and he apologized. "i didn't mean to raise my voice," he explained. "you surprised me." "i guess you didn't expect to find me here, at that. you haven't changed much, ellaby." automatically, ellaby mumbled his thanks for the compliment. sam mulden, though, had changed. he'd always been a radical. he wore his hair cropped too short. he was tall and thin, his elbows and knees exposed by the tunic he wore like knots on gnarled, living wood. mulden looked older. he hadn't bothered to dye his graying hair, or to smooth the premature wrinkles on his long-nosed, thin-lipped face. he was smiling sardonically at ellaby now, as if he could read ellaby's mind. "i might have known it would be you," he said. "as soon as they said the assassin was coming from high falls, i should have guessed." "why?" asked ellaby. it was a question which had nudged for ten years at his docile patience. when people go out of their way to train you, though, to spend ten years teaching you every inch of capitol territory without once taking you there, to make you proficient with various deadly weapons although your reflexes are splendidly modal, to teach you meaningless phrases like democratic inequality (?) and individuality (?) and the right to live a self-directed (?) life, to make your own decisions (?), when people act, in short, like a very thorough government school, even if their motives seem strangely misdirected, you don't question them. "for two reasons," mulden said. "you can understand the first, ellaby. if the second one bothers you, forget it. in the first place, you're so perfectly modal, the government would never suspect you. in the second place, you're so well adjusted you're bound to follow our instructions." "or any instructions," dorcas sinclair said. "that's what i'm afraid of, mulden." * * * * * ellaby still couldn't get over it. he never expected to find poor, unfortunate sam mulden in such a high position in the organization or anywhere. he remembered mulden clearly from their school days together. mulden was a character, a real character. physically, he was barely acceptable: more than eighty percent of the men and some sixty-five percent of the women were able to knock mulden down in the high falls gymnasium classes. but mentally mulden was a misfit. his i. q. was in the neighborhood of a hundred and fifty. his gangling, ineffectual physique wasn't too far below the mode, but mentally he soared intolerably above it. now mulden told dorcas sinclair, "don't worry about that. we've had ten years to work on him. they can't undo it in a few days. ellaby, you are quite sure you know what you must do?" "oh, yes. tomorrow morning i will take my security tests. according to the record of my previous physical and mental testing, i should make top secret classification. i will work here in the capitol. i will find the dictator and kill him. the only thing that bothers me is i don't know who to look for. what does the dictator look like?" "didn't they explain all of that to you in high falls?" the woman asked irritably, without even making an effort to poker her face. "ease off," mulden told her for the second time. "he's confused. listen to me, ellaby. don't you remember? the dictator never makes public appearances." "yes. yes, now i remember. no one knows what the dictator looks like. he keeps to himself. he issues orders which are instantly obeyed, helping to maintain universal modality in the country. it almost seems a shame i'll have to kill him." "so we've pavloved him for ten years, have we?" dorcas sinclair raged. ellaby turned away in embarrassment. "damn you, mulden, he still questions it!" "he's supposed to," mulden explained quietly. "if he accepted what we told him, he'd go around talking about it naively. this way, he understands the necessity for secrecy." "he doesn't understand--" "well, then he realizes it. let him get some sleep, will you? tomorrow's going to be a good day for us, a big day for him. good night, ellaby. if you want anything, sinclair will get it for you." ellaby assured them he would want nothing except a simple meal of whatever most people in the capitol ate on wednesdays. it turned out to be pork chops, which ellaby neither particularly liked nor disliked. he chewed his food with the proper lack of enthusiasm and retired early. * * * * * the next morning, ellaby took his i. q. test at the capitol personnel bureau. he was slightly above average in space perception but slightly below average in comparisons. he hoped his anxiety didn't show on his face. if anyone asked him why he had come to the capitol he was ready to blurt out the reason and have done with it. he wondered what sam mulden would have thought if he knew. the sinclair woman would have been furious. no one asked ellaby. you came to the capitol because you wanted to work there. according to the mode, a man desired to change his location every 3.7 years. ellaby had been 6.3 years tardy, but high falls was an ideally modal community in which people tended to linger. "i. q., point seven under the mode," the personnel clerk told ellaby. the slight variation--due to his anxiety--was not enough to matter, ellaby realized with a faint sense of triumph. "proceed to physical testing," the girl told ellaby. obediently, ellaby followed the green arrow to the gymnasium. he was given a locker, a towel, a pair of athletic shorts and a first-aid kit. he stripped off his clothing, placing the tunic, underwear and sandals in the locker, then climbed into his athletic shorts and fell into line with the other men and women carrying their towels and first-aid kits into the gymnasium. the ten-over-mode male wrestling tester pinned ellaby in less than two minutes, a fact which was duly noted on his employment blank. he was given fifteen minutes of rest, then squared off on the mat with a skinny, five-under-mode male. ellaby bested him in four minutes flat, took another fifteen minute break, mopping the sweat from his body with an already sodden towel, then defeated the ten-under-mode female wrestler in two minutes and some seconds. it developed into a knock down, drag out fight with the two-over-mode female, who finally forced ellaby's shoulders to the mat for the necessary five seconds after half an hour. ellaby showered, ate a hot thursday lunch and took his employment blank to the emotion lab. his electroencephalogram revealed nine alpha cycles to the second, but too much theta. "are you nervous?" the technician asked ellaby. "you're thetaing all over the place." "i guess so. yes, i'm nervous." "then let's try it again." they did, the technician rubbing the greasy electrode salve on ellaby's forehead before the electrodes were fastened there for the second time. the result was the same. "more than modal theta," said the technician, writing something in code on his employment blank. "see the personnel advisor, please." for ellaby, it came as a distinct shock. his heart pounded against his temples, in his ears. he was emotionally unstable. had the ten years been for nothing? * * * * * "sit down, ellaby," the personnel advisor said. he was a man of middle age, irritatingly careless about his appearance. he had dyed his graying hair, of course, but if you looked close you could see gray at the roots. he wore a green thursday tunic which was poorly starched. having had a full week to get it ready, that was naturally inexcusable. "you have a splendid record, ellaby," the sloppy personnel clerk said. "mentally, within tenths of the mode. physically, even closer. unfortunately your emotional--" "that never happened to me before, not in high falls, it didn't," ellaby interrupted. "this is not high falls. every community, you must realize, has its own security testing center. and the capitol requires the tightest security of all." "i know but i was nervous. you're going to tell me my theta was too high, aren't you?" "that's correct. you needn't feel so bad about it. you're going to be cleared for secret work. you're damn close to modal, ellaby. you're a good security risk. incidentally, just why were you nervous?" "because i wanted top secret clearance. because i wanted to work close to the dictator. you see--" abruptly, ellaby stopped talking, clasping a hand over his mouth in sudden confusion. he wasn't supposed to talk about this. lying, of course, was as far from ellaby's nature as it was from anyone else's, assuming he were reasonably close to the mode. but ellaby hadn't been asked for all that information directly. "what kind of job will i get?" he asked, trying desperately to change the subject. it was too late. the personnel clerk asked, "just why did you want to work close to the dictator?" ellaby felt a single drop of sweat fall from his armpit under the loose tunic and roll, itching, down the side of his body. he wanted with all his soul to be back in high falls. anyplace but here. "why, ellaby?" "i can't answer that question. a man isn't forced to answer a question unless he wants to." "certainly not," said the personnel advisor, staring blandly at ellaby. "this is a democratic country." "then--" "but you've never known a man to refuse answering a question asked of him officially, have you?" "i'm not sure i understand, sir." "you don't have to be so obsequious, ellaby. i'm less modal than you are, but i make the best of my divergencies. what i meant was this: did you ever hear of a criminal _not_ confessing to his crime?" "well, no." "i'll ask you the question again, ellaby. why did you want to work near the dictator?" the man leaned close, peered at ellaby. the room was small, almost a cubicle, the bare walls seeming to close in on all four sides. ellaby stifled a wild impulse to scream and run out of there, run any place as long as he could leave the room and the personnel advisor behind him. "i'm sorry, but i can't answer that question," he said finally. "tell me, ellaby, did you ever hear your own voice?" what a strange question. "why, certainly. all the time, when i speak." "no, i mean your voice reproduced artificially. your radio voice?" "no, i never heard it." "well, you're about to." while the personnel advisor busied himself setting up the radio equipment, ellaby had a few seconds in which to think. he could still make a clean breast of the whole thing. they had chosen him--mulden, the sinclair woman and the others in high falls--for his modality. very well, he could use that modality to get out from under. he didn't understand. he didn't know what they were leading him to, slowly, over a period of ten years. _he_ didn't want to assassinate the dictator. what in the world would he want to do that for? he would gladly name all the names he knew if the personnel advisor would only let him forget the whole mad experience and return to high falls. he could attend adjustment academy if they thought he needed it. anything. anything.... "please slip these earphones over your head, over your ears. there. is the microphone close enough to your lips? i think so." * * * * * a metal band running over the top of ellaby's cranium held the earphones in place. another metal band curved around the side of his cheek and chin, leading to a small microphone before his lips. "place your hands on the arms of your chair, please." ellaby did as he was told. _click! click!_ a pair of manacles sprang up from the chair arms trapping ellaby's wrists. ellaby looked at the personnel tester in unpokered alarm. "what did you do that for?" he asked timidly. "so you won't remove the earphones. now, are we ready?" the personnel advisor pressed a button on his desk. ellaby thought he heard a faint hum of power in the microphone. "i will ask you once more, ellaby. why did you want to work near the dictator?" ellaby shrugged. he was going to say, "i'm sorry, but i don't have to answer that question." he said, and heard through the earphones: "i'm sorry (i'm) but i (sorry don't have (but) to ans (i) wer that (don't) question) (have to answer that question)." "again, please. i didn't hear you," the personnel tester said. it was his own voice ellaby had heard through the earphones. playback, with a fraction of a second lapse. oddly, it un-nerved him. the reproduced voice had no right lagging. he shouted, "i'm sorry (i'm) but i (sorry) don't have (but) to ans (i) wer that (don't question!) (have to) shut up! (answer) shut up! (that) please.... (question). please! (please)." "once more, if you don't mind." ellaby's head was whirling. he blinked sweat from his eyes. "i--please! (i--please!)" "the law requires that you make some answer, even if answer is a refusal." criminals confessed, ellaby thought wildly. is this why criminals confessed? did the sound of their own voices drive them mad? it seemed such a simple device, and yet ... and yet ... but he could fool it. he couldn't rush the words out in a quick torrent and: "i don't have to (i don't answer that ques) (have to) tion (answer that question.)" ellaby--and ellaby's echo. "well, i (well) don't (i don't)!" ellaby blinked more sweat from his eyes. "mumble (mumble). sob. (sob)." "relax, ellaby. you seem upset. will you read this, please?" the personnel advisor held a card in front of ellaby's face. the words swam, blurred together, fused, were readable and then were not. ellaby read aloud: "a code (a) of eth (code) ics for (eth) mankind (ethics for mankind)." it was, he realized, the preamble to the constitution. "in the (in) nineteenth (the) centur (nine) y the (nine) common (teenth)"--faster, faster!--"(century the common) c-common man was defended (common man) by enlightened liberalism (man was). in the t-twentieth century (in the t-twen) common man was championed by (tieth century) enlightened liberalism (the common man was). in the twenty-first century (championed by enlightened) the common man assumed his proper place (liberalism) at the top of society but (in the twenty-first cen) will protect the rights of the (tury the common man) enlightened liberals or any other minority, (assumed his proper) encouraging them to become (place at the top of) as common as possible (society but will protect the rights of the enlightened liberals or any other minority, encouraging them to become as common as possible). "oh god (oh)," shouted ellaby. "shut (god) it (shut) off (it) make (off) it (make) stop (it) god (stop--god)!" "will you agree to answer my question?" "anything (anything)! anything (anything)." now the playback was a faint whisper. ellaby found himself hysterically fascinated by it, trying to guess the time-lapse, which varied, trying to guess the volume, which varied. ellaby's head slumped forward on his chest. the unfamiliar wetness at the corners of his mouth was drool. ellaby didn't quite know it, of course, but he had given himself a very mild and very temporary nervous breakdown. two hours later he was asked one question. he answered: "i want to be near the dictator so i can kill him." * * * * * later, dorcas sinclair asked: "what else happened at testing, ellaby?" "take your time," mulden cautioned. "he looks nervous." "i know it. i want to find out why." "after my eeg," said ellaby softly, "they told me i had too much theta." "damn you!" dorcas sinclair swore. "then you weren't cleared for top secret?" "no, i wasn't. not at first. then a strange thing happened. they said i was cleared only for secret and asked me why i wanted to be cleared for top secret." "you fool!" the woman cried. "i told them it was because i wanted to work near the dictator. i didn't mean to tell them, but--" the woman shook her head in despair. "don't bother finishing," she said. "you can clear out of here, ellaby. you're through. ten years. ten years wasted." "if you wish," ellaby said mildly. "but you're missing the most interesting part. they asked me why i wanted to be near the dictator." dorcas sinclair sucked in her breath sharply. even mulden seemed anxious. "you didn't tell them?" the woman asked in a frantic whisper. "i'm afraid i did." "we'll have to flee the city," the woman told mulden, ignoring ellaby now. "if he told them that, he probably named names. i have friends in hampton roads--" "let him finish," mulden said. mulden was looking strangely at ellaby. "they didn't ask me to name anyone in the conspiracy," ellaby said. "unless they could poker very well, they seemed perfectly calm. they said they would make an exception in my case. they would clear me for top secret work. i start tomorrow." "what's your job?" mulden asked eagerly. "well, this is the strangest part. i'm to be the dictator's confidential assistant." "of course!" mulden cried. "it makes sense. don't you see, sinclair? we're not the only ones. there are others, inside the government, who think it's time for a _coup_. with their help, ellaby won't fail us." dorcas sinclair wasn't convinced. "doesn't it seem peculiar to you that, purely by co-incidence, ellaby happened to meet these people?" but mulden shrugged. "you know the old saw about the gift horse," he said. "ellaby will go ahead with the plan. tomorrow, if all goes well, we'll have a full-scale revolution on our hands. don't you understand, sinclair? the dictator--a figurehead. there are plenty of people around like us, who don't want to do things just because everyone else does them, who don't want to be stamped by the mold of conformity, who don't want ... but i don't have to go on. the dictator is a figurehead, a symbol of power. destroy him and the whole conforming system comes tumbling down in chaos. you'll see tomorrow." it was all beyond ellaby, who was still weary from the playback ordeals. he took the small, palm-sized blaster from mulden and slipped it into his tunic. tomorrow he would assassinate the dictator and suffer the consequences. he almost had in mind to rebel. the people at testing had been very nice--except for those earphones. but the sinclair woman and mulden might be able to do as bad--or worse. he'd go through with it. under the circumstances, he slept surprisingly well. * * * * * mulden's passionate parting words still ringing in his ears, ellaby entered the capitol building. "someday you and your kind will understand, ellaby," mulden had said. "someday you'll know what banal really means, and vulgar. someday--i promise you, someday--the true social perspective will be re-established. it should not be the role in life of the common man, the mass, the mob, to make the uncommon man as common as possible, but quite the other way around. the other way, ellaby! common folk should be given the opportunity to become as uncommon as possible. otherwise, ellaby, we've reached a dead end. "kill him and i promise you this: the whole warped system will come tumbling. a man shouldn't be forced to conform, ellaby. mankind's greatness stems from lack of conformity. for his own purposes, the dictator bows to the will of the mob. but he's surrounded himself, with mediocrity. without him, what can they do? without him they'll go down in weeks, ellaby. in days!" the guard, a tall blonde woman who looked like a twenty-over-mode to ellaby, led him down a long, well-lit corridor. no one had searched him. it would have taken the guard a moment to reach within his tunic, find the blaster and drag him off to the academy. other people, nameless people on nameless errands, walked by in the corridor without paying ellaby any attention. was mulden right? were there people here, within the building, waiting to help ellaby? ellaby licked his dry lips and kept walking, finding it difficult to keep his legs from trembling. it was as if a nimbus of terror dogged his footsteps, ready to envelope him momentarily. the guard seemed completely unconcerned. she was humming the melody of the latest song-hit, a wonderfully liltingly banal tune which had been on everyone's lips back in high falls. the blonde guard paused before a door in the long corridor. "here we are," she said. ellaby opened his mouth to speak, but gulped in air instead. he felt a weak fluttering in his chest. he had never been so afraid in all his life. the guard, who was a head taller than ellaby, glanced down at him. "you don't have to be so nervous," she said in a perfectly normal voice. "everything's going to be all right." "you see, it's a new job and all--" "oh, here! let's see that blaster." ellaby's heart plunged. he wanted to bolt, to run. she knew. she knew.... he stood there, too weak to move, while the guard reached inside his tunic, found the blaster taped to his chest, wrenched it loose. she took it out, held it up, flipping open the chamber and examined the inside. "all right," she said. "i only wanted to make sure it was loaded." and she took out a key and opened the door. "he's inside," she said, and strolled on down the hall. * * * * * ellaby clutched the doorframe for support. he was breathing raggedly now, as if he'd run all the great length of the corridor, sprinting with monsters behind him. he rubbed the shoulder of his tunic against his damp brow and entered the room. a man ellaby's own size was sitting there, viewing a 3d. when he heard ellaby at the door he got up. he looked very unhappy as ellaby pointed the blaster at him. he said, "so soon?" "they said you would try wiles, trickery, deceit," ellaby recited. "you won't fool me." "you think i'm the dictator? you're going to kill me? that's very funny. i know, you see. i know." "stand back!" ellaby screamed. "i assure you, i am not the dictator any more than you will be--" the dictator's face dissolved in a red, jelly-like smear as ellaby pulled this trigger of his blaster. he spent the next ten minutes being very ill. afterwards, they were very efficient. they carted the body away and told ellaby all he had to do was ring for food or drink or anything he wanted. occasionally, he would sign some papers. occasionally--masked--he might be asked to review a parade. and all at once, sitting alone in the room with its pleasant view, it came to ellaby. he passed no judgment, but he understood--and he was afraid. the masses ruled, thought ellaby, hardly knowing what the phrase meant. the system was self-perpetuating, and revolution couldn't change it. the common man--men like ellaby--had come into his own, for once and for all time. the man ellaby had slain was no dictator. he had tried to tell ellaby that before he perished. now ellaby had taken his place. ellaby was no dictator, either. but he would do until the next one came along. the end * * * * * the raider by don berry _he was a hunter with a cause that transcended all law. but, now, could the cause forgive him his service?_ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from worlds of if science fiction, april 1958. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] they dropped the raider on the night side, less than thirty miles from thanlar, the capitol city. the dark, slim ship drifted silently to the ground, discharged its passenger and lifted again, moving slowly like a great shark in the night. on the way out into space, it was caught by the defense screens of thanlar and disappeared in a gout of flaming energy that lit up the entire night sky. the raider did not see it; he was already asleep. he slept, and his dreams were troubled by images of a familiar face. strong cheekbones, the mane of white hair, the famous half-smile of mayne landing, earth commissioner to the colony planets. mayne landing, the gentle representative of terra to her children, the kindly old gentleman with the fist of steel, the benevolent despot over a hundred colony planets. mayne landing: victim. the raider woke with the dawn, a dawn that was slightly more red-tinged than the sun he was used to. he gathered his small store of equipment together and cached it in the low scrub of the surrounding forest. by a clear, sparkling stream he washed, wincing slightly from the shock of the too-cold water against his face. he wore clothes indistinguishable from the other farmers of this district, slightly shabby, a uniform dun color. they did not fit him well, but they could not hide the wide shoulder and slim waist. well, it didn't matter: the farmers of this planet, like all the colonies, had to work hard to scrape their meager living from the rocky soil. they were all in good condition; he would not be conspicuous. he finished washing and dried himself on the sleeve of his jumper. then he began to walk down the rocky hill to the village that stood in the tiny valley below. in the early sun, the tiny assemblage of white clean houses sparkled like a handful of sand-polished shells clustered on a beach. he stopped for a moment, halfway down, looking at the village. it was a nice little place, he thought. peaceful in the early light, calm. there were a few people moving about the streets, probably farmers early on their way to the fields. it was a pastoral scene, like something he had read in a book a long time ago. _nice_, he thought. _quiet. i wonder what it will be like when i'm finished here._ it didn't pay to think about things like that. not in his business. he let his eyes shift slightly to take in the tall towers of thanlar, just visible over the crest of hills on the other side of the valley. thanlar, the capitol. that was his concern. that was what he had to think about, not the village. he sighed once, started down the hill again, walking slowly, picking his way through the loose rocks with care. as he neared the village, he passed several crews of men going out into the fields. he greeted them in interlingua, and they replied shortly, without curiosity. he knew he was a stranger to them; they did not recognize him, but they showed no curiosity. these days, curiosity was not much advantage to anyone, he thought. the farmers had probably learned long ago not to show too much interest in any stranger who suddenly appeared from nowhere. he came into the village and walked quickly to the faded wooden sign that announced, tailor. entering the little shop, more a general dry-goods store than a tailor, he moved to the rear, to a small counter. no one was there, and he rang the bell on the counter. after a moment, a man appeared, hastily buttoning a tunic, his hair still tousled, sleep in his eyes. "yes, yes? what is it? you are too early." "my apologies, old man," said the raider. "i am looking for a hunting cloak." the small man's eyes narrowed. "ah," he said. "a hunting cloak. i have several. what did you have in mind." "something in gray. to suit my name." "ah. and what might you be hunting, mr.--gray?" "an animal of my home planet. it is called a jackal." "ah." the old man suddenly turned from the low rack of cloaks and stared directly at his customer. his mouth compressed in a thin, bitter line. "so. you are he. the mr. gray who hunts the jackal. come." he turned and led the way into his living quarters behind the counter. "i will tell the others you are here," he said. he left through a rear door, leaving the raider to wander about the tiny room, inspecting it without interest. he had seen too many like it in the past five years to be interested. dingy little rooms in the back of a store, insect-ridden chambers in public lodgings, shack in the backwoods outside a city, too many, too many. and never a place to rest. _after this one_, he promised himself. _after this one._ soon the little tailor came back, and there were two others with him. one was a ferret-eyed little man with a suspicious stare, the other a heavy-set farmer. the heavy-set man had a scythe in his hand, he had apparently been on his way to his fields when the tailor found him. he held the scythe tightly, and the raider could see he was very nervous. it was probably the first time he had ever come into contact with one of the raider's--profession. he didn't like it. extending his free right hand, the farmer said, "my name is carroll. joseph carroll. you are--mr. gray?" the raider took the proffered hand warmly, trying to gain this man's friendship. he would need all the help he could get. "gray is my given name, mr. carroll. my last name--" he laughed embarrassedly, "--well, they call me wolf, for the time being." "appropriate," said the man bitterly. "i'm sorry i have to meet you under these conditions, mr. carroll, very sorry." the other shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the raider's lean, brown face, trying to guess what sort of mind lay behind it. "in these times," he said finally, with an air of discouragement, "one cannot choose either one's friends or the conditions of meeting." the ferret-eyed man had been watching the exchange closely, and now he sidled up to the raider with his thin, white hand extended. "please forgive joseph," he said smoothly. "he is not happy about this affair." his voice exuded a sort of artificial charm, and wolf found himself repelled by the man. "none of us do," he said. he turned to the farmer again, who was standing uncomfortably, his eyes on the floor. wolf watched him for a moment, just long enough for the farmer to know he was being watched. "perhaps," said wolf slowly, "we had better straighten this out right now." the heavy-set man looked up defiantly. "all right," he said. "i admit i do not like this business, i do not like what you are here for, i do not like what will happen to our village when you are gone." the thin man laughed. "the old man means to say he is a coward." "no," said the man stubbornly, without taking his eyes away from wolf. "i am not a coward. but your mission means death for many people, people i call my friends. i do not like that." "there is a necessity," said wolf, quietly. "perhaps, perhaps," said joseph carroll, shaking his head dubiously. "i do not pretend to understand the political complications. i know only that, whether you succeed or fail, our village is lost. our people will suffer for what you do. many will probably die. you cannot expect me to like that." "no," wolf agreed. "we do not expect that of you, joseph. no one expects you to like this. but, tell me--" "yes." "what was your tax the past year?" wolf asked. the old man laughed bitterly. "seventy-nine percent." "enough to live on?" "barely," said carroll, leaning heavily on the scythe. "it means we must work many hours, sixteen or more a day, in order to survive." "that is what we fight," said wolf simply. "that, and the near slavery of many of the colonies. do you know what happens to the money you pay the terran federation in taxes?" "no," admitted carroll. "no one has dared ask." wolf laughed. "and yet they say the federation is a republic? when the citizen does not dare ask what happens to the taxes that are ground out of him? i'll tell you, my friend joseph. it is used for administration. simply that. administration of a space empire is an expensive project, and you must pay for it. it costs a great deal of money, our treasured empire. and what does the administration consist of? machinery to collect taxes. it is like a snake that feeds on its own tail, joseph. taxes are increased in order to have enough money to collect more taxes. it never ends." "this is one thing," said joseph. "the killing of people is another." "how many do you know who have died in debtor's camps, or died because they could not work hard enough? joseph, this is no life for a man. the colonies cannot develop under the federation. they must be free to govern themselves. otherwise, we have simply a great, cancerous tumor, spreading through the universe, calling itself the terran federation." joseph sighed. "all right," he said. "in principle i agree. the colonies must be free. but is there no other way than murder and assassination? this violence--what can come of it? and if the revolution succeeds eventually, how can we know the federation will not be replaced by the same thing under another name?" "because you will govern yourselves," wolf said. "every colony will be autonomous, trading as a sovereign nation with the other colonies. the idea of a galactic empire is self-defeating, joseph, it is unhealthy, vicious. the only way man can go to the stars with his head up, is without dreams of infinite power blinding him." "you are an idealist," said the ferret-eyed man, with surprise. "a man must live for something," said wolf, quietly. "certainly, certainly," the thin man agreed quickly. "i was surprised to find an idealist in your--trade." "my trade is as distasteful to me as it is to you," said wolf, speaking more to joseph carroll than to the pale, thin man. "what will the death of mayne landing accomplish?" carroll asked. "confusion. he is the administrator of over one hundred planets. he is a strong man, a focal point. without him, without his personal strength, the administration of those planets will falter, and stop. it isn't that he carries on the routine work, of course. but decisions come from him, the decisions that cannot be made by routine, the decisions that require a man's creative spark. without that, the routine itself cannot stand." "it rather sounds as if you respect the man," said carroll. "respect him? i--" wolf hesitated, uncertain. "yes," he finished. "i respect him. he is doing what he thinks is right, as i do what i think is right." "and you would kill a man for whom you hold no hatred," carroll muttered. "this thing is making beasts of us all." _if you only knew_, thought wolf, _if you only knew._ "sometimes it is necessary," he said aloud. "sometimes bad things are necessary, that good may follow." carroll sighed. "well, we are committed now. we must go ahead." "i will need detailed information on landing's plan of inspection," wolf said. "you will have it," carroll told him. "daimya has been in the city for five days, listening and watching." "good," said wolf. he felt better now, getting into the operation. this he knew, this he could handle. it was what he was trained for. it was the other things that were bad, the thinking, the wondering, the long nights spent sleepless, uncertain. "when will he be back?" wolf asked. "this daimya." "she. daimya is my daughter," carroll said. "even our children must have blood on their hands. she will return this evening." * * * * * daimya came, just after dark. wolf was startled. he had expected a child, from the way carroll spoke, and daimya was far from a child. she was a slim woman, in her early twenties, he estimated. her body was sleek and fit, and her long black hair was tied behind her head, where it flowed over her back like a waterfall carved from ebony. she had large eyes, slightly almond shaped, that regarded him solemnly as she gave the information she had gathered. "he will come to inspect this village in two days," she said. "he will visit four farms, picked at random, and then there will be a procession down the main street." "that would be our time," wolf mused. "crowds about." "some will be killed," daimya objected. "his guards will not take this thing lightly." "i am sorry," wolf said sincerely. "it is our best chance of success." daimya shrugged. "you are the killer, not i," she said, with obvious distaste. wolf felt an impulse to explain, to justify, to make this slight girl see that he hated this. angrily he fought it down. _it doesn't matter what she thinks_, he told himself. _it doesn't matter. what matters is to get the job done and get out. that's all._ "tell me," daimya said curiously, "how do you come to be mixed up in a thing like this? you don't act like a hired killer." wolf laughed shortly. "no," he said. "i'm an amateur. i was a captain of the security patrol once. my whole family was in federation service, as a matter of fact. i was on colony patrol for three years. in that time i saw so much suffering, so much injustice, so much simple cruelty that--well, never mind. when i was contacted by a member of the revolution underground, i deserted. it almost killed my father. since i was familiar with the federation's higher echelons, i was assigned the pleasant job of assassin." "how many men have you killed in that job?" daimya asked, almost casually. wolf watched her for a long moment before answering. "you don't want to know that," he said slowly. the girl dropped her eyes. "no. no, i guess you're right. i'm sorry." she stood and went to the door. she stopped there and turned, looking at wolf. he met her eyes and held them with his own, frankly, without embarrassment. "i'm sorry," she repeated. she closed the door softly behind her, and wolf bent to study the map of the village she had provided. * * * * * the village lay in a cup-shaped valley. the main street was also a direct highway out of thanlar. on either side of the highway, the farmer's fields stretched, checkered brown and green, to the foothills. the entire valley was not more than a mile wide, and the fields extended only a quarter of a mile on either side of the main road. the foothills added another quarter of a mile, and then, abruptly, the mountains started. though one of the principal highways to thanlar, the main street was fairly narrow, bordered closely on either side by the small business district, composed mostly of single story buildings constructed out of native lumber from the hills. wolf decided the center of the business district would offer the most concealment. any group of men at any other place would be viewed with suspicion by mayne landing's bodyguards, and their chances would be proportionately diminished. it remained to determine the most effective weapon. explosive? no, too many villagers would be killed. yet that would certainly be the most certain way, a grenade thrown from the roof of one of the low buildings. he wondered how thoroughly the administrator's men would check the village before the procession. joseph carroll told him the check was cursory; except for the spasmodic attacks of the revolution underground, the colonies were submissive enough, and the precautions taken were in the nature of routine. it looked to be easy, wolf thought wryly. the easiest of them all, since the planet was fairly distant from the scene of previous underground operations. they wouldn't be expecting it, he thought. down the main street in procession, the administrator standing in the little ground car, smiling and waving to his subjects, genial, effusive. and then-"joseph," said wolf suddenly. "how many men can i depend on?" "perhaps thirty," said the farmer. "perhaps a few more." "are they completely dependable?" "within reason," said carroll. "they are farmers, not soldiers. plows are more familiar to them than guns." "how many can you get me that will obey me without question, no matter what?" joseph carroll tugged absently at his ear. finally, he shrugged. "perhaps five," he said. "including myself." "all right," sighed wolf. "it will have to be that way, then. but the others can be depended on 'within reason?'" "yes," carroll said. "do not expect too much. they do not like this business." "neither do you," wolf said. "but you count yourself among the five trustworthy." carroll didn't answer, and wolf took his silence as a declaration of faith. "all right," he said. "leave me now. at sunset, bring your men to me, all of them. i will work out the attack." "very well," said carroll, and started to leave. "joseph," said wolf softly, and the older man turned at the door. "what is it?" "what about daimya?" "what about her?" "where will she be during--this attack?" "at home, i expect," said carroll. "where she belongs." wolf toyed for a moment with the map that lay before him. "joseph," he said. "what _will_ happen to the village?" "you don't know?" asked carroll in surprise. "no," wolf admitted. "i have never stayed behind." carroll laughed bitterly. "one of two things," he said. "they will either demolish it from the air, including the populace, or they will put everyone in one of the forced labor camps." the farmer made a small gesture of resignation. "i didn't know," wolf said, almost under his breath. _can i be responsible for that?_ "they don't like colonists cooperating with the revolutionaries," carroll continued. "did you expect they exempted us all from our taxes as a reward?" "no," wolf said. "but i didn't know it was so--complete." "they are thorough," the old man shrugged. "any village where an incident occurs is made an example. before long, you people will not find much welcome in the colonies." "i suppose not," wolf mused. "perhaps by then--" "you really believe you're going to succeed in overthrowing the federation, don't you?" "i must," said wolf. "without that, all this--" he gestured to the map before him, traced with arrows, notations, ideas, "--is meaningless slaughter." "so it seems," carroll said flatly. "joseph," said wolf suddenly. "with luck, there will be a ship waiting for me in the mountains when i've--finished here." "that's your good fortune," carroll said grimly. "will you come with me?" "and join the revolutionaries?" "you--and daimya." carroll considered it slowly. "no," he said finally. "not i. i have gotten my people into this, i must stay with them. all were against it when you first contacted us. all but me. it is my fault. i have to stay with them." wolf felt a sudden surge of affection for the old man. reluctant he might be, but he knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences and was willing to accept them. "and daimya?" "that is a different matter," said carroll. "it is not right that she should suffer for her father's folly." _or that a father should suffer for his son's folly_, thought wolf. but he said nothing. "you would take her?" carroll asked. "if i am--able," said wolf. "all right," said the old man. "i will see to it. better she should be alive than dead. that is all that matters." * * * * * wolfs final plan was simple. he had not enough men to count on a direct attack. the major work would be performed by the dependable five, of which carroll assured him. the others would be used to create a diversion to cover the actual assault. there was a slight bend to the highway just before it entered the village. when the procession passed this point, they would see a group of men disperse quickly into the low scrub at the side of the road. this would put them on their guard, they would be apprehensive, watching. when the procession had entered the village itself and was within the short commercial strip, there would be an explosion back of them. grenades, perhaps some shooting. if wolf's prediction were accurate, this would divert the attention of at least the major portion of guards for long enough. long enough for the five men in the crowd to do what they had to do-"this must be timed perfectly," he told the man who was to head the diversionary squad. "i understand that." "too soon or too late, either will destroy us. it will take us too long to reach the administrator. he must be exactly opposite the tailor's shop. it must be done right." "it will be done right." "if it is not, all the sacrifices are for nothing, you understand that? the consequences will be as bad, or worse, for the village, and we will have accomplished nothing. if the administrator is dead, there will be time for most of the villagers to escape into the hills before the federation can take action against them." the man left, after wolf had provided him with the weapons his group would need from his cache on the nearby hillside. the dependable five were instructed in their parts, and then there was nothing to do but wait. the next morning dawned clear. the air was cool, a slight breeze ruffled the fields around the village. as the sun rose higher in the sky, it glinted sharply from the towers of thanlar. it had been impossible to keep the entire operation a secret from the villagers. they knew something was to happen, and they knew it concerned the inspection trip of mayne landing to the village. it was not hard to guess what it was. as the day drew on toward noon, the tension of the people grew. small knots of farmers gathered on the corners, their fields forgotten for the day, talking low. wolf didn't like it, it was too obvious. the village was primed, ready to explode, and he was afraid the tension would make the guards _too_ alert. they had to be just tense enough to respond to the diversion, not enough so they would be watching _everywhere_. he was counting on an instinctive, rapid response. he sat behind the tailor shop, talking to his men with a confidence and calm he did not feel. he spoke as if the success of the mission were a foregone fact, and the escape of the villagers into the hills. but he knew it was tenuous. perhaps he had planned it too critically. perhaps a simple direct attack would have been better. perhaps, perhaps-any number of things were possible, he thought. but it was done now. if he had made a mistake, they would know soon. on the contraband comset behind the tailor shop, wolf had called the mother-ship that hovered just out of detection range. all right, they confirmed, there would be a shuttle in the hills back of the town. did he know the shuttle that had brought him had been lost? no? well, it had. with the whole crew aboard. _that many more_, thought wolf. _if anybody's keeping a list, i've got a lot to my credit. or damnation._ and, bitterly: _more friends than enemies._ don't think about it. do your job and get the hell out. if you can. he spoke to daimya, but on her father's advice did not tell her of his plan to take her along. "she won't go voluntarily," the old man said frankly. "we will have to pretend we are all going to the hills. after that--" he nodded slowly, "--the problem is yours." "i will take care of her, joseph," wolf had promised, and the sun-browned farmer had clasped his hand tightly in a mute gesture of hopefulness. "you understand--a man and his daughter--you understand?" _more than you probably know, joseph._ "yes," he said aloud. "i think i understand." and then came the word that the administrator's procession was in sight. wolf looked at his five dependables. he passed each face slowly, as if he had never seen them before. they were young, and old, and middle-aged. they were dark from the hours in the sun, strong from the work that pulled their muscles for the long hours each day. they smiled at him, grimly, nervous, but they were good men. _the faces of freedom_, wolf thought. _these are the faces and the bodies of freedom._ then it was time. * * * * * the streets were lined with silent people when the procession came into view around the slight curve. then there was a tentative cheer from someone. it was taken up by someone else, and soon the crowd was roaring its synthetic appreciation of administrator mayne landing. wolf breathed easier. craning his neck in the crowd, wolf spotted the other five, standing dispersed in the crowd, but all near the spot on the street opposite the tailor's shop. they made no acknowledgement except meeting his eyes, then turning away to watch the procession near. as they came closer, wolf noted with satisfaction that several of the guards occasionally glanced at the street behind them. good. they had seen the knot of men outside town, then. if they expected anything, they were expecting it from behind them. he could see the tall, straight figure of mayne landing in the ground car. he took in the familiar face almost hungrily, the great shock of white hair moving gently in the slight breeze, the characteristic gesture, a half-salute, the slight smile, the kindly eyes of the old man-he tore his eyes away from the dignified figure and glanced behind him, down the street. he saw a figure move on a roof-top, and wondered if the guards saw it, too. then the ground car was opposite, and wolf had a wrenching sensation that the diversionary squad was not going to go through with it.... an explosion rocked the street a block away, shaking the ground underfoot, shattering windows in the adjacent stores. a billow of dirty black smoke began to drift toward the sky. there was a scattering of small, explosive fire. the tone of the crowd's roar changed. it deepened and became a mass cry of confusion and fright. quietly, wolf edged forward to the street, automatically noting that his men were doing the same. several of the guards had turned, were running back toward the source of the excitement, and others were turned toward it. but those around mayne landing had not responded. they were keeping their eyes fixed on the crowd. they were too well trained to be drawn off, and wolf cursed under his breath. he stopped his forward motion and waited, rocking on the balls of his feet. this was the part he hadn't told his five about. suddenly there was a flurry in the crowd on the opposite side of the street. the nearest guard whirled, in time to draw his hand gun and fire. the first of the five sprawled in the street, a bloody stump where his head had been. but the guard's blast had not been in time to stop the long mowing knife that buried itself to the hilt in his throat. he lurched forward, dropping the hand gun. his momentum carried him almost into the edge of the crowd, and a woman screamed hysterically. wolf's other men had been only a fraction of a second behind the first, and the street was now a chaos of shouting and the sharp, flat reports of the guards' hand guns. the crowd milled frantically, adding to the confusion as the attackers leaped at the procession. wolf waited, waited, watching for the single split-second when the guards were fully engaged with the crowd. then it came, and their heads were momentarily turned away from mayne landing. wolf sprinted from the crowd, the short stiletto cradled in his hand. he leaped to the side of the ground car just as mayne landing turned toward him. he saw the old man's face clearly in that moment. it held no fear, but only an unbelievable surprise, an astonishment beyond understanding. then the stiletto slid gently into the throat, severing the jugular, and all surprise and emotion was lost in the implacable blank agony of death. the still-pumping heart forced a pulsing stream of bright arterial blood around the blade of the knife. then, as quickly as he had come, wolf was gone. he slipped back through the crowd, into the door of the tailor shop. seconds later, joseph carroll was there, one side of his gray farmer's tunic turning brown-black from the blood that soaked it. "come on!" carroll snapped, running for the back. "what about the others?" "gone," said the old man shortly. "all of them." he dashed out the door of the tailor shop into the back and wolf followed him. "daimya!" wolf shouted. "she's waiting for us in the foothills." the sound of the crowd and the blasting of hand guns was loud behind them as they began their dash across the checkered fields. for a few moments, nothing followed. then wolf heard a faint shout behind them, and a huge gout of dirt erupted from the field beside him, almost knocking him down. he regained his balance and started to run low, crouched and zig-zagging while the tiny explosive pellets pocked the field around him. it seemed an eternity before they had crossed the field, but he knew it was not more than a couple of minutes. joseph carroll was ahead of him, already beginning to tear through the scrub growth of the foothills, making his way up. just as he entered the undergrowth, wolf saw the old man joined by a smaller, slighter figure. there was a roar in his ears, and he fell, a searing pain across his back. numbly, he realized he'd been hit, but somehow it didn't seem important. he picked himself up and followed carroll into the scrub. soon he was out of sight of their pursuers, though the explosions of their weapons still followed them with uncanny accuracy. he caught up with the old man and his daughter in a small clearing. carroll lay with his head cradled in daimya's lap, gasping for breath. "we've got to go on," wolf said. "come on, i'll help." "you're hurt!" the girl said. "not badly. come on, we've got to get your father out of here!" the old man put his arms around the shoulders of the other two, and they struggled up the hill, breaking their way through the brush, slipping, sometimes falling. behind them, there was still the occasional sound of the explosive pellets, and infrequently, one came very near. "close," muttered wolf as an explosion showered them with dirt. "they're on the path now." they went a few steps farther, and joseph slumped between them. "dad!" called daimya. "please! please try to go on!" wolfs hand slid down the old man's back, came away warm and wet. he was silent for a moment, then gently lowered the suddenly limp body to the ground. "come on," he said to daimya. the girl was standing over the inert form of her father, not understanding what had happened, words of encouragement still on her lips. "dad?" she said, bewildered. wolf took her arm. "daimya, he's gone. come on." "no--dad--" she knelt beside him on the ground. "sorry, daimya," wolf said under his breath. he swung, hitting her cleanly behind the head. the girl collapsed soundlessly, and he slung her over his shoulder and started on up the hill. finally, he cleared the crest. just beyond it, lying in a tiny meadow lay the black, unmarked shuttle ship. as he came in view, the port opened and a man ran toward him. wolf stumbled, caught his balance, went on. "here," said the crewman, "let me take her." silently, out of fatigue, wolf relinquished his load and stumbled toward the port. it slid shut behind them, just in time to keep them from being covered with dirt blown from a hole that suddenly appeared a yard behind. wolf caught a glimpse of men appearing at the crest. inside the ship, he could hear the thud and clang of the explosive cartridges detonating uselessly against the permalloy hull. then the drives roared their song of power, and the shuttle lifted clear. * * * * * the crewmen were more than curious. "who the hell's the girl?" "got me. never heard of such a thing." "well, i suppose a raider has a right to pick up a little booty now and then," another laughed. "they don't have the easiest job in the world." "bet she's going to be mad when she wakes up." "yeah. looks like the raider might be worrying a little about that right now." wolf stood at the forward screen, silently watching the shape of the mother-ship grow larger and larger until the screen held nothing but the great black hull. the crewmen were wrong, he wasn't worried about daimya's waking. he could take care of that when the time came. he was thinking about other things, the things that came to him when he slept, the faces, the names, the actions, the right and wrong of living according to what you think is right, no matter what the cost. but the cost, the cost.... it was so high sometimes, so terribly high. _this trip_, he thought. a shuttle crew. five good men, probably the whole village, eventually. those who did escape into the hills would lead a life of fear and pursuit, foraging as they went until finally they were caught. and worst of all, this was worst of all, and mentally he saw the list, the list of his responsibilities, the list for which he would someday have to account. the bright name of mayne landing: victim. his mind shied away from it. _can that be forgiven? can such a thing ever be forgiven?_ gray landing, called wolf in the underground, turned away from the forward screen and began to prepare to board the mother-ship. transcriber's note: this etext was produced from if worlds of science fiction february 1958. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. assassin by j. f. bone _illustrated by ed emsh_ _the aliens wooed earth with gifts, love, patience and peace._ _who could resist them? after all, no one shoots santa claus!_ * * * * * the rifle lay comfortably in his hands, a gleaming precision instrument that exuded a faint odor of gun oil and powder solvent. it was a perfect specimen of the gunsmith's art, a semi-automatic rifle with a telescopic sight--a precisely engineered tool that could hurl death with pinpoint accuracy for better than half a mile. daniel matson eyed the weapon with bleak gray eyes, the eyes of a hunter framed in the passionless face of an executioner. his blunt hands were steady as they lifted the gun and tried a dry shot at an imaginary target. he nodded to himself. he was ready. carefully he laid the rifle down on the mattress which covered the floor of his firing point, and looked out through the hole in the brickwork to the narrow canyon of the street below. the crowd had thickened. it had been gathering since early morning, and the growing press of spectators had now become solid walls of people lining the street, packed tightly together on the sidewalks. yet despite the fact that there were virtually no police, the crowd did not overflow into the streets, nor was there any of the pushing crowding impatience that once attended an assemblage of this sort. instead there was a placid tolerance, a spirit of friendly good will, an ingenuous complaisance that grated on matson's nerves like the screeching rasp of a file drawn across the edge of thin metal. he shivered uncontrollably. it was hard to be a free man in a world of slaves. it was a measure of the aztlan's triumph that only a bare half-dozen police 'copters patrolled the empty skies above the parade route. the aliens had done this--had conquered the world without firing a shot or speaking a word in anger. they had wooed earth with understanding patience and superlative guile--and earth had fallen into their hands like a lovesick virgin! there never had been any real opposition, and what there was had been completely ineffective. most of those who had opposed the aliens were out of circulation, imprisoned in correctional institutions, undergoing rehabilitation. rehabilitation! a six bit word for dehumanizing. when those poor devils finished their treatment with aztlan brain-washing techniques, they would be just like these sheep below, with the difference that they would never be able to be anything else. but these other stupid fools crowding the sidewalks, waiting to hail their destruction--these were the ones who must be saved. they--not the martyrs of the underground, were the important part of humanity. a police 'copter windmilled slowly down the avenue toward his hiding place, the rotating vanes and insect body of the craft starkly outlined against the jagged backdrop of the city's skyline. he laughed soundlessly as the susurrating flutter of the rotor blades beat overhead and died whispering in the distance down the long canyon of the street. his position had been chosen with care, and was invisible from air and ground alike. he had selected it months ago, and had taken considerable pains to conceal its true purpose. but after today concealment wouldn't matter. if things went as he hoped, the place might someday become a shrine. the idea amused him. strange, he mused, how events conspire to change a man's career. seven years ago he had been a respected and important member of that far different sort of crowd which had welcomed the visitors from space. that was a human crowd--half afraid, wholly curious, jostling, noisy, pushing--a teeming swarm that clustered in a thick disorderly ring around the silver disc that lay in the center of the international airport overlooking puget sound. then--he could have predicted his career. and none of the predictions would have been true--for none included a man with a rifle waiting in a blind for the game to approach within range.... the aztlan ship had landed early that july morning, dropping silently through the overcast covering international airport. it settled gently to rest precisely in the center of the junction of the three main runways of the field, effectively tying up the transcontinental and transoceanic traffic. fully five hundred feet in diameter, the giant ship squatted massively on the runway junction, cracking and buckling the thick concrete runways under its enormous weight. by noon, after the first skepticism had died, and the unbelievable tv pictures had been flashed to their waiting audience, the crowd began to gather. all through that hot july morning they came, increasing by the minute as farther outlying districts poured their curious into the airport. by early afternoon, literally hundreds of millions of eyes were watching the great ship over a world-wide network of television stations which cancelled their regular programs to give their viewers an uninterrupted view of the enigmatic craft. by mid-morning the sun had burned off the overcast and was shining with brassy brilliance upon the squads of sweating soldiers from fort lewis, and more sweating squads of blue-clad police from the metropolitan area of seattle-tacoma. the police and soldiery quickly formed a ring around the ship and cleared a narrow lane around the periphery, and this they maintained despite the increasing pressure of the crowd. the hours passed and nothing happened. the faint creaking and snapping sounds as the seamless hull of the vessel warmed its space-chilled metal in the warmth of the summer sun were lost in the growing impatience of the crowd. they wanted something to happen. shouts and catcalls filled the air as more nervous individuals clamored to relieve the tension. off to one side a small group began to clap their hands rhythmically. the little claque gained recruits, and within moments the air was riven by the thunder of thousands of palms meeting in unison. frightened the crowd might be, but greater than fear was the desire to see what sort of creatures were inside. matson stood in the cleared area surrounding the ship, a position of privilege he shared with a few city and state officials and the high brass from mcchord field, fort lewis, and bremerton navy yard. he was one of the bright young men who had chosen government service as a career, and who, in these days of science-consciousness had risen rapidly through ability and merit promotions to become the director of the office of scientific research while still in his early thirties. a dedicated man, trained in the bitter school of ideological survival, he understood what the alien science could mean to this world. their knowledge would secure peace in whatever terms the possessors cared to name, and matson intended to make sure that his nation was the one which possessed that knowledge. he stood beside a tall scholarly looking man named roger thornton, who was his friend and incidentally the commissioner of police for the twin city metropolitan area. to a casual eye, their positions should be reversed, for the lean ascetic thornton looked far more like the accepted idea of a scientist than burly, thick shouldered, square faced matson, whose every movement shouted cop. matson glanced quizzically at the taller man. "well, roger, i wonder how long those birds inside are going to keep us waiting before we get a look at them?" "you'd be surprised if they really were birds, wouldn't you?" thornton asked with a faint smile. "but seriously, i hope it isn't too much longer. this mob is giving the boys a bad time." he looked anxiously at the strained line of police and soldiery. "i guess i should have ordered out the night shift and reserves instead of just the riot squad. from the looks of things they'll be needed if this crowd gets any more unruly." matson chuckled. "you're an alarmist," he said mildly. "as far as i can see they're doing all right. i'm not worried about them--or the crowd, for that matter. the thing that's bothering me is my feet. i've been standing on 'em for six hours and they're killing me!" "mine too," thornton sighed. "tell you what i'll do. when this is all over i'll split a bucket of hot water and a pint of arnica with you." "it's a deal," matson said. as he spoke a deep musical hum came from inside the ship, and a section of the rim beside him separated along invisible lines of juncture, swinging downward to form a broad ramp leading upward to a square orifice in the rim of the ship. a bright shadowless light that seemed to come from the metal walls of the opening framed the shape of the star traveller who stood there, rigidly erect, looking over the heads of the section of the crowd before him. a concerted gasp of awe and admiration rose from the crowd--a gasp that was echoed throughout the entire ring that surrounded the ship. there must be other openings like this one, matson thought dully as he stared at the being from space. behind him an army tank rumbled noisily on its treads as it drove through the crowd toward the ship, the long gun in its turret lifting like an alert finger to point at the figure of the alien. the stranger didn't move from his unnaturally stiff position. his oddly luminous eyes never wavered from their fixed stare at a point far beyond the outermost fringes of the crowd. seven feet tall, obviously masculine, he differed from mankind only in minor details. his long slender hands lacked the little finger, and his waist was abnormally small. other than that, he was human in external appearance. a wide sleeved tunic of metallic fabric covered his upper body, gathered in at his narrow waist by a broad metal belt studded with tiny bosses. the tunic ended halfway between hip and knee, revealing powerfully muscled legs encased in silvery hose. bright yellow hair hung to his shoulders, clipped short in a square bang across his forehead. his face was long, clean featured and extraordinarily calm--almost godlike in its repose. matson stared, fascinated. he had the curious impression that the visitor had stepped bodily out of the middle ages. his dress and haircut were almost identical with that of a medieval courtier. the starman raised his hand--his strangely luminous steel gray eyes scanned the crowd--and into matson's mind came a wave of peaceful calm, a warm feeling of goodwill and brotherhood, an indescribable feeling of soothing relaxation. with an odd sense of shock matson realized that he was not the only one to experience this. as far back as the farthest hangers-on near the airport gates the tenseness of the waiting crowd relaxed. the effect was amazing! troops lowered their weapons with shamefaced smiles on their faces. police relaxed their sweating vigilance. the crowd stirred, moving backward to give its members room. the emotion-charged atmosphere vanished as though it had never been. and a cold chill played icy fingers up the spine of daniel matson. he had felt the full impact of the alien's projection, and he was more frightened than he had ever been in his life! * * * * * they had been clever--damnably clever! that initial greeting with its disarming undertones of empathy and innocence had accomplished its purpose. it had emasculated mankind's natural suspicion of strangers. and their subsequent actions--so beautifully timed--so careful to avoid the slightest hint of evil, had completed what their magnificently staged appearance had begun. the feeling of trust had persisted. it lasted through quarantine, clearance, the public receptions, and the private meetings with scientists and the heads of government. it had persisted unabated through the entire two months they remained in the twin city area. the aliens remained as they had been in the beginning--completely unspoiled by the interest shown in them. they remained simple, unaffected, and friendly, displaying an ingenuous innocence that demanded a corresponding faith in return. most of their time was spent at the university of washington, where at their own request they were studied by curious scholars, and in return were given courses in human history and behavior. they were quite frank about their reasons for following such a course of action--according to their spokesman ixtl they wanted to learn human ways in order to make a better impression when they visited the rest of mankind. matson read that blurb in an official press release and laughed cynically. better impression, hah! they couldn't have done any better if they had an entire corps of public relations specialists assisting them! they struck exactly the right note--and how could they improve on perfection? from the beginning they left their great ship open and unguarded while they commuted back and forth from the airport to the campus. and naturally the government quickly rectified the second error and took instant advantage of the first. a guard was posted around the ship to keep it clear of the unofficially curious, while the officially curious combed the vessel's interior with a fine tooth comb. teams of scientists and technicians under matson's direction swarmed through the ship, searching with the most advanced methods of human science for the secrets of the aliens. they quickly discovered that while the star travellers might be trusting, they were not exactly fools. there was nothing about the impenetrably shielded mechanisms that gave the slightest clue as to their purpose or to the principles upon which they operated--nor were there any visible controls. the ship was as blankly uncommunicative as a brick wall. matson was annoyed. he had expected more than this, and his frustration drove him to watch the aliens closely. he followed them, sat in on their sessions with the scholars at the university, watched them at their frequent public appearances, and came to know them well enough to recognize the microscopic differences that made them individuals. to the casual eye they were as alike as peas in a pod, but matson could separate farn from quicha, and laz from acana--and ixtl--well he would have stood out from the others in any circumstances. but matson never intruded. he was content to sit in the background and observe. and what he saw bothered him. they gave him no reason for their appearance on earth, and whenever the question came up ixtl parried it adroitly. they were obviously not explorers for they displayed a startling familiarity with earth's geography and ecology. they were possibly ambassadors, although they behaved like no ambassadors he had ever seen. they might be traders, although what they would trade only god and the aliens knew--and neither party was in a talking mood. mysteries bothered matson. he didn't like them. but they could keep their mystery if he could only have the technical knowledge that was concealed beneath their beautifully shaped skulls. at that, he had to admit that their appearance had come at precisely the right time. no one better than he knew how close mankind had been to the final war, when the last two major antagonists on earth were girding their human and industrial power for a final showdown. but the aliens had become a diversion. the impending war was forgotten while men waited to see what was coming next. it was obvious that the starmen had a reason for being here, and until they chose to reveal it, humanity would forget its deadly problems in anticipation of the answer to this delightful puzzle that had come to them from outer space. matson was thankful for the breathing space, all too well aware that it might be the last that mankind might have, but the enigma of the aliens still bothered him. he was walking down the main corridor of the physics building on the university campus, wondering as he constantly did about how he could extract some useful knowledge from the aliens when a quiet voice speaking accentless english sounded behind him. "what precisely do you wish to know, dr. matson?" the voice said. matson whirled to face the questioner, and looked into the face of ixtl. the alien was smiling, apparently pleased at having startled him. "what gave you the idea that i wanted to know anything?" he asked. "you did," ixtl said. "we all have been conscious of your thoughts for many days. forgive me for intruding, but i must. your speculations radiate on such a broad band that we cannot help being aware of them. it has been quite difficult for us to study your customs and history with this high level background noise. we are aware of your interest, but your thoughts are so confused that we have never found questions we could answer. if you would be more specific we would be happy to give you the information which you seek." "oh yeah!" matson thought. "of course. it would be to our advantage to have your disturbing speculations satisfied and your fears set at rest. we could accomplish more in a calmer environment. it is too bad that you do not receive as strongly as you transmit. if you did, direct mental contact would convince you that our reasons for satisfying you are good. but you need not fear us, earthman. we intend you no harm. indeed, we plan to help you once we learn enough to formulate a proper program." "i do not fear you," matson said--knowing that he lied. "perhaps not consciously," ixtl said graciously, "but nevertheless fear is in you. it is too bad--and besides," he continued with a faint smile "it is very uncomfortable. your glandular emotions are quite primitive, and very disturbing." "i'll try to keep them under control," matson said dryly. "physical control is not enough. with you there would have to be mental control as well. unfortunately you radiate much more strongly than your fellow men, and we are unable to shut you out without exerting considerable effort that could better be employed elsewhere." the alien eyed matson speculatively. "there you go again," he said. "now you're angry." matson tried to force his mind to utter blankness, and the alien smiled at him. "it does some good--but not much," he said. "conscious control is never perfect." "well then, what can i do?" "go away. your range fortunately is short." matson looked at the alien. "not yet," he said coldly. "i'm still looking for something." "our technology," ixtl nodded. "i know. however i can assure you it will be of no help to you. you simply do not have the necessary background. our science is based upon a completely different philosophy from yours." to matson the terms were contradictory. "not as much as you think," ixtl continued imperturbably. "as you will find out, i was speaking quite precisely." he paused and eyed matson thoughtfully. "it seems as though the only way to remove your disturbing presence is to show you that our technology is of no help to you. i will make a bargain with you. we shall show you our machines, and in return you will stop harassing us. we will do all in our power to make you understand; but whether you do or do not, you will promise to leave and allow us to continue our studies in peace. is that agreeable?" matson swallowed the lump in his throat. here it was--handed to him on a silver platter--and suddenly he wasn't sure that he wanted it! "it is," he said. after all, it was all he could expect. they met that night at the spaceship. the aliens, tall, calm and cool; matson stocky, heavy-set and sweating. the contrast was infernally sharp, matson thought. it was as if a primitive savage were meeting a group of nuclear physicists at los alamos. for some unknown reason he felt ashamed that he had forced these people to his wishes. but the aliens were pleasant about it. they took the imposition in their usual friendly way. "now," ixtl said. "exactly what do you want to see--to know?" "first of all, what is the principle of your space drive?" "there are two," the alien said. "the drive that moves this ship in normal space time is derived from lurgil's fourth order equations concerning the release of subatomic energy in a restricted space time continuum. now don't protest! i know you know nothing of lurgil, nor of fourth order equations. and while i can show you the mathematics, i'm afraid they will be of little help. you see, our fourth order is based upon a process which you would call psychomathematics and that is something i am sure you have not yet achieved." matson shook his head. "i never heard of it," he admitted. "the second drive operates in warped space time," ixtl continued, "hyperspace in your language, and its theory is much more difficult than that of our normal drive, although its application is quite simple, merely involving apposition of congruent surfaces of hyper and normal space at stress points in the ether where high gravitational fields balance. navigation in hyperspace is done by electronic computer--somewhat more advanced models than yours. however, i can't give you the basis behind the hyperspace drive." ixtl smiled depreciatingly. "you see, i don't know them myself. only a few of the most advanced minds of aztlan can understand. we merely operate the machines." matson shrugged. he had expected something like this. now they would stall him off about the machines after handing him a fast line of double-talk. "as i said," ixtl went on, "there is no basis for understanding. still, if it will satisfy you, we will show you our machines--and the mathematics that created them although i doubt that you will learn anything more from them than you have from our explanation." "i could try," matson said grimly. "very well," ixtl replied. he led the way into the center of the ship where the seamless housings stood, the housings that had baffled some of the better minds of earth. matson watched while the star men proceeded to be helpful. the housings fell apart at invisible lines of juncture, revealing mechanisms of baffling simplicity, and some things that didn't look like machines at all. the aliens stripped the strange devices and ixtl attempted to explain. they had anti-gravity, forcefields, faster than light drive, and advanced design computers that could be packed in a suitcase. there were weird devices whose components seemed to run out of sight at crazily impossible angles, other things that rotated frictionlessly, suspended in fields of pure force, and still others which his mind could not envisage even after his eyes had seen them. all about him lay the evidence of a science so advanced and alien that his brain shrank from the sight, refusing to believe such things existed. and their math was worse! it began where einstein left off and went off at an incomprehensible tangent that involved psychology and esp. matson was lost after the first five seconds! stunned, uncomprehending and deflated, he left the ship. an impression that he was standing with his toe barely inside the door of knowledge became a conscious certainty as he walked slowly to his car. the wry thought crossed his mind that if the aliens were trying to convince him of his abysmal ignorance, they had succeeded far beyond their fondest dreams! they certainly had! matson thought grimly as he selected five cartridges from the box lying beside him. in fact they had succeeded too well. they had turned his deflation into antagonism, his ignorance into distrust. like a savage, he suspected what he could not understand. but unlike the true primitive, the emotional distrust didn't interfere with his ability to reason or to draw logical inferences from the data which he accumulated. in attempting to convince, ixtl had oversold his case. * * * * * it was shortly after he had returned to washington, that the aliens gave the waiting world the reasons for their appearance on earth. they were, they said, members of a very ancient highly evolved culture called aztlan. and the aztlans, long past the need for conquest and expansion, had turned their mighty science to the help of other, less fortunate, races in the galaxy. the aliens were, in a sense, missionaries--one of hundreds of teams travelling the star lanes to bring the benefits of aztlan culture to less favored worlds. they were, they unblushingly admitted, altruists--interested only in helping others. it was pure corn, matson reflected cynically, but the world lapped it up and howled for more. after decades of cold war, lukewarm war, and sporadic outbreaks of violence, that were inevitably building to atomic destruction, men were willing to try anything that would ease the continual burden of strain and worry. to mankind, the aztlans' words were as refreshing as a cool breeze of hope in a desert of despair. and the world got what it wanted. quite suddenly the aliens left the northwest, and accompanied by protective squads of fbi and secret service began to cross the nation. taking widely separated paths they visited cities, towns, and farms, exhibiting the greatest curiosity about the workings of human civilization. and, in turn, they were examined by hordes of hopeful humans. everywhere they went, they spread their message of good will and hope backed by the incredibly convincing power of their telepathic minds. behind them, they left peace and hopeful calm; before them, anticipation mounted. it rose to a crescendo in new york where the paths of the star men met. the aztlans invaded the united nations. they spoke to the general assembly and the security council, were interviewed by the secretariat and reporters from a hundred foreign lands. they told their story with such conviction that even the communist bloc failed to raise an objection, which was as amazing to the majority of the delegates as the fact of the star men themselves. altruism, it seemed, had no conflict with dialectic materialism. the aliens offered a watered-down variety of their technology to the peoples of earth with no strings attached, and the governments of earth accepted with open hands, much as a small boy accepts a cookie from his mother. it was impossible for men to resist the lure of something for nothing, particularly when it was offered by such people as the aztlans. after all, matson reflected bitterly, nobody shoots santa claus! from every nation in the world came invitations to the aliens to visit their lands. the star men cheerfully accepted. they moved across europe, asia, and africa--visited south america, central america, the middle east and oceania. no country escaped them. they absorbed languages, learned customs, and spread good will. everywhere they went relaxation followed in their footsteps, and throughout the world arose a realization of the essential brotherhood of man. it took nearly three years of continual travelling before the aliens again assembled at un headquarters to begin the second part of their promised plan--to give their science to earth. and men waited with calm expectation for the dawn of golden age. matson's lips twisted. fools! blind, stupid fools! selling their birthright for a mess of pottage! he shifted the rifle across his knees and began filling the magazine with cartridges. he felt an empty loneliness as he closed the action over the filled magazine and turned the safety to "on". there was no comforting knowledge of support and sympathy to sustain him in what he was about to do. there was no real hope that there ever would be. his was a voice crying in the wilderness, a voice that was ignored--as it had been when he visited the president of the united states.... * * * * * matson entered the white house, presented his appointment card, and was ushered past ice-eyed secret service men into the presidential office. it was as close as he had ever been to the chief executive, and he stared with polite curiosity across the width of desk which separated them. "i wanted to see you about the aztlan business," the president began without preamble. "you were there when their ship landed, and you are also one of the few men in the country who has seen them alone. in addition, your office will probably be handling the bulk of our requests in regard to the offer they made yesterday in the un. you're in a favorable spot." the president smiled and shrugged. "i wanted to talk with you sooner, but business and routine play the devil with one's desires in this office. "now tell me," he continued, "your impression of these people." "they're an enigma," matson said flatly. "to tell the truth, i can't figure them out." he ran his fingers through his hair with a worried gesture. "i'm supposed to be a pretty fair physicist, and i've had quite a bit of training in the social sciences, but both the mechanisms and the psychology of these aztlans are beyond my comprehension. all i can say for sure is that they're as far beyond us as we are beyond the cavemen. in fact, we have so little in common that i can't think of a single reason why they would want to stay here, and the fact that they do only adds to my confusion." "but you must have learned something," the president said. "oh we've managed to collect data," matson replied. "but there's a lot of difference between data and knowledge." "i can appreciate that, but i'd still like to know what you think. your opinion could have some weight." matson doubted it. his opinions were contrary to those of the majority. still, the chief asked for it--and he might possibly have an open mind. it was a chance worth taking. "well, sir, i suppose you've heard of the so-called "wild talents" some of our own people occasionally possess?" the president nodded. "it is my belief," matson continued, "that the aztlans possess these to a far greater degree than we do, and that their science is based upon them. they have something which they call psychomathematics, which by definition is the mathematics of the mind, and this seems to be the basis of their physical science. i saw their machines, and i must confess that their purpose baffled me until i realized that they must be mechanisms for amplifying their own natural equipment. we know little or nothing about psi phenomena, so it is no wonder i couldn't figure them out. as a matter of fact we've always treated psi as something that shouldn't be mentioned in polite scientific conversation." the president grinned. "i always thought you boys had your blind spots." "we do--but when we're confronted with a fact, we try to find out something about it--that is if the fact hits us hard enough, often enough." "well, you've been hit hard and often," the president chuckled, "what did you find out?" "facts," matson said grimly, "just facts. things that could be determined by observation and measurement. we know that the aliens are telepathic. we also know that they have a form of esp--or perhaps a recognition of danger would be a better term--and we know its range is somewhat over a third of a mile. we know that they're telekinetic. the lack of visible controls in their ship would tell us that, even if we hadn't seen them move small objects at a distance. we know that they have eidetic memories, and that they can reason on an extremely high level. other than that we know nothing. we don't even know their physical structure. we've tried x-ray but they're radio-opaque. we've tried using some human sensitives from the rhine institute, but they're unable to get anywhere. they just turn empathic in the aliens' presence, and when we get them back, they do nothing but babble about the beauty of the aztlan soul." "considering the difficulties, you haven't done too badly," the president said. "i take it then, that you're convinced that they are an advanced life form. but do you think they're sincere in their attitude toward us?" "oh, they're sincere enough," matson said. "the only trouble is that we don't know just what they're sincere about. you see, sir, we are in the position of a savage to whom a trader brings the luxuries of civilization. to the savage, the trader may represent purest altruism, giving away such valuable things as glass beads and machine made cloth for useless pieces of yellow rock and the skins of some native pest. the savage hasn't the slightest inkling that he's being exploited. by the time he realizes he's been had, and the yellow rock is gold and the skins are mink, he has become so dependent upon the goods for which the trader has whetted his appetite that he inevitably becomes an economic slave. "of course you can argue that the cloth and beads are far more valuable to the savage than the gold or mink. but in the last analysis, value is determined by the higher culture, and by that standard, the savage gets taken. and ultimately civilization moves in and the superior culture of the trader's race determines how the savage will act. "still, the savage has a basis for his acts. he is giving something for something--making a trade. but we're not even in that position. the aliens apparently want nothing from us. they have asked for nothing except our good will, and that isn't a tradable item." "but they're altruists!" the president protested. "sir, do you think that they're insane?" matson asked curiously. "do they appear like fanatics to you?" "but we can't apply our standards to them. you yourself have said that their civilization is more advanced than ours." "whose standards can we apply?" matson asked. "if not ours, then whose? the only standards that we can possibly apply are our own, and in the entire history of human experience there has never been a single culture that has had a basis of pure altruism. such a culture could not possibly exist. it would be overrun and gobbled up by its practical neighbors before it drew its first breath. "we must assume that the culture from which these aliens come has had a practical basis in its evolutionary history. it could not have risen full blown and altruistic like minerva from the brain of jove. and if the culture had a practical basis in the past, it logically follows that it has a practical basis in the present. such a survival trait as practicality would probably never be lost no matter how far the aztlan race has evolved. therefore, we must concede that they are practical people--people who do not give away something for nothing. but the question still remains--what do they want? "whatever it is, i don't think it is anything from which we will profit. no matter how good it looks, i am convinced that cooperation with these aliens will not ultimately be to our advantage. despite the reports of every investigative agency in this government, i cannot believe that any such thing as pure altruism exists in a sane mind. and whatever i may believe about the aztlans, i do not think they're insane." the president sighed. "you are a suspicious man, matson, and perhaps you are right; but it doesn't matter what you believe--or what i believe for that matter. this government has decided to accept the help the aztlans are so graciously offering. and until the reverse is proven, we must accept the fact that the star men _are_ altruists, and work with them on that basis. you will organize your office along those lines, and extract every gram of information that you can. even you must admit that they have knowledge that will improve our american way of life." matson shook his head doggedly. "i'm afraid, sir, if you expect aztlan science to improve the american way of life, you are going to be disappointed. it might promote an aztlan way of life, but the reverse is hardly possible." "it's not my decision," the president said. "my hands are tied. congress voted for the deal by acclamation early this morning. i couldn't veto it even if i wanted to." "i cannot cooperate in what i believe is our destruction." matson said in a flat voice. "then you have only one course," the president said. "i will be forced to accept your resignation." he sighed wearily. "personally, i think you're making a mistake. think it over before you decide. you're a good man, and lord knows the government can use good men. there are far too many fools in politics." he shrugged and stood up. the interview was over. matson returned to his offices, filled with cold frustration. even the president believed he could do nothing, and these shortsighted politicians who could see nothing more than the immediate gains--there was a special hell reserved for them. there were too many fools in politics. however, he would do what he could. his sense of duty was stronger than his resentment. he would stay on and try to cushion some of the damage which the aztlans would inevitably cause, no matter how innocent their motives. and perhaps the president was right--perhaps the alien science would bring more good than harm. * * * * * for the next two years matson watched the spread of aztlan ideas throughout the world. he saw aztlan devices bring health, food and shelter to millions in underprivileged countries, and improve the lot of those in more favored nations. he watched tyrannies and authoritarian governments fall under the passive resistance of their peoples. he saw militarism crumble to impotence as the aztlan influence spread through every facet of society, first as a trickle, then as a steady stream, and finally as a rushing torrent. he saw mankind on the brink of a golden age--and he was unsatisfied. reason said that the star men were exactly what they claimed to be. their every action proved it. their consistency was perfect, their motives unimpeachable, and the results of their efforts were astounding. life on earth was becoming pleasant for millions who never knew the meaning of the word. living standards improved, and everywhere men were conscious of a feeling of warmth and brotherhood. there was no question that the aliens were doing exactly what they promised. but reason also told him that the aliens were subtly and methodically destroying everything that man had created, turning him from an individual into a satisfied puppet operated by aztlan strings. for man is essentially lazy--always searching for the easier way. why should he struggle to find an answer when the aztlans had discovered it millennia ago and were perfectly willing to share their knowledge? why should he use inept human devices when those of the aliens performed similar operations with infinitely more ease and efficiency? why should he work when all he had to do was ask? there was plan behind their acts. but at that point reason dissolved into pure speculation. why were they doing this? was it merely mistaken kindliness or was there a deeper more subtle motive? matson didn't know, and in that lack of knowledge lay the hell in which he struggled. for two years he stayed on with the osr, watching humanity rush down an unmarked road to an uncertain future. then he ran away. he could take no more of this blind dependence upon alien wisdom. and with the change in administration that had occurred in the fall elections he no longer had the sense of personal loyalty to the president which had kept him working at a job he despised. he wanted no part of this brave new world the aliens were creating. he wanted to be alone. like a hermit of ancient times who abandoned society to seek his soul, matson fled to the desert country of the south-west--as far as possible from the aztlans and their works. the grimly beautiful land toughened his muscles, blackened his skin, and brought him a measure of peace. humanity retreated to remoteness except for seth winters, a leathery old-timer he had met on his first trip into the desert. the acquaintance had ripened to friendship. seth furnished a knowledge of the desert country which matson lacked, and matson's money provided the occasional grubstake they needed. for weeks at a time they never saw another human--and matson was satisfied. the world could go its own way. he would go his. running away was the smartest thing he could have done. others more brave perhaps, or perhaps less rational--had tried to fight, to form an underground movement to oppose these altruists from space; but they were a tiny minority so divided in motives and purpose that they could not act as a unit. they were never more than a nuisance, and without popular support they never had a chance. after the failure of a complicated plot to assassinate the aliens, they were quickly rounded up and confined. and the aliens continued their work. matson shrugged. it was funny how little things could mark mileposts in a man's life. if he had known of the underground he probably would have joined it and suffered the same penalty for failure. if he hadn't fled, if he hadn't met seth winters, if he hadn't taken that last trip into the desert, if any one of a hundred little things had happened differently he would not be here. that last trip into the desert--he remembered it as though it were yesterday.... the yellow flare of a greasewood fire cast flickering spears of light into the encircling darkness. above, in the purplish black vault of the moonless sky the stars shone down with icy splendor. the air was quiet, the evening breeze had died, and the stillness of the desert night pressed softly upon the earth. far away, muted by distance, came the ululating wail of a coyote. seth winters laid another stick of quick-burning greasewood on the fire and squinted across the smoke at matson who was lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, eyeing the night sky with the fascination of a dreamer. "it's certainly peaceful out here," matson murmured as he rose to his feet, stretched, and sat down again looking into the tiny fire. "'tain't nothin' unusual, dan'l. not out here it ain't. it's been plumb peaceful on this here desert nigh onto a million years. an' why's it peaceful? mainly 'cuz there ain't too many humans messin' around in it." "possibly you're right, seth." "shore i'm right. it jest ain't nacheral fer a bunch of homo saps to get together without an argyment startin' somewhere. 'tain't the nature of the critter to be peaceable. an' y'know, thet's the part of this here sweetness an' light between nations that bothers me. last time i was in prescott, i set down an' read six months of newspapers--an' everything's jest too damn good to be true. seems like everybody's gettin' to love everybody else." he shook his head. "the hull world's as sticky-sweet as molasses candy. it jest ain't nacheral!" "the star men are keeping their word. they said that they would bring us peace. isn't that what they're doing?" "shucks dan'l--that don't give 'em no call to make the world a blasted honey-pot with everybody bubblin' over with brotherly love. there ain't no real excitement left. even the commies ain't raisin' hell like they useta. people are gettin' more like a bunch of damn woolies every day." "i'll admit that mankind had herd instincts," matson replied lazily, "but i've never thought of them as particularly sheeplike. more like a wolf pack, i'd say." "wal, there's nothin' wolflike about 'em right now. look, dan'l, yuh know what a wolf pack's like. they're smart, tough, and mean--an' the old boss wolf is the smartest, toughest, and meanest critter in the hull pack. the others respect him 'cuz he's proved his ability to lead. but take a sheep flock now--the bellwether is jest a nice gentle old castrate thet'll do jest whut the sheepherder wants. he's got no originality. he's jest a noise thet the rest foller." "could be." "it shore is! jes f'r instance, an' speakin' of bellwethers, have yuh ever heard of a character called throckmorton bixbee?" "can't say i have. he sounds like a nance." "whutever a nance is--he's it! but yuh're talkin' about our next president, unless all the prophets are wrong. he's jest as bad as his name. of all the gutless wonders i've ever heard of that pilgrim takes the prize. he even looks like a rabbit!" "i can see where i had better catch up on some contemporary history," matson said. "i've been out in the sticks too long." "if yuh know what's good fer yuh, yuh'll stay here. the rest of the country's goin' t'hell. brother bixbee's jest a sample. about the only thing that'd recommend him is that he's hot fer peace--an' he's got those furriners' blessing. seems like those freaks swing a lotta weight nowadays, an' they ain't shy about tellin' folks who an' what they favor. they've got bold as brass this past year." matson nodded idly--then stiffened--turning a wide eyed stare on seth. a blinding light exploded in his brain as the words sank in. with crystal clarity he knew the answer! he laughed harshly. winters stared at him with mild surprise. "what's bit yuh, dan'l?" but matson was completely oblivious, busily buttressing the flash of inspiration. sure--that was the only thing it could be! those aliens were working on a program--one that was grimly recognizable once his attention was focussed on it. there must have been considerable pressure to make them move so fast that a short-lived human could see what they were planning--but matson had a good idea of what was driving them, an atomic war that could decimate the world would be all the spur they'd need! they weren't playing for penny ante stakes. they didn't want to exploit mankind. they didn't give a damn about mankind! to them humanity was merely an unavoidable nuisance--something to be pushed aside, to be made harmless and dependent, and ultimately to be quietly and bloodlessly eliminated. man's civilization held nothing that the star men wanted, but man's planet--that was a different story! truly the aliens were right when they considered man a savage. like the savage, man didn't realize his most valuable possession was his land! the peaceful penetration was what had fooled him. mankind, faced with a similar situation, and working from a position of overwhelming strength would have reacted differently. humanity would have invaded and conquered. but the aliens had not even considered this obvious step. why? the answer was simple and logical. they couldn't! even though their technology was advanced enough to exterminate man with little or no loss to themselves, combat and slaughter must be repulsive to them. it had to be. with their telepathic minds they would necessarily have a pathologic horror of suffering. they were so highly evolved that they simply couldn't fight--at least not with the weapons of humanity. but they could use the subtler weapon of altruism! and even more important--uncontrolled emotions were poison to them. in fact ixtl had admitted it back in seattle. the primitive psi waves of humanity's hates, lusts, fears, and exultations must be unbearable torture to a race long past such animal outbursts. that was--must be--why they were moving so fast. for their own safety, emotion had to be damped out of the human race. matson had a faint conception of what the aliens must have suffered when they first surveyed that crowd at international airport. no wonder they looked so strangely immobile at that first contact! the raw emotion must have nearly killed them! he felt a reluctant stir of admiration for their courage, for the dedicated bravery needed to face that crowd and establish a beachhead of tranquility. those first few minutes must have had compressed in them the agonies of a lifetime! matson grinned coldly. the aliens were not invulnerable. if mankind could be taught to fear and hate them, and if that emotion could be focussed, they never again would try to take this world. it would be sheer suicide. as long as mankind kept its emotions it would be safe from this sort of invasion. but the problem was to teach mankind to fear and hate. shock would do it, but how could that shock be applied? the thought led inevitably to the only possible conclusion. the aliens would have to be killed, and in such a manner as to make humanity fear retaliation from the stars. fear would unite men against a possible invasion, and fear would force men to reach for the stars to forestall retribution. matson grinned thinly. human nature couldn't have changed much these past years. even with master psychologists like the aztlans operating upon it, changes in emotional pattern would require generations. he sighed, looked into the anxious face of seth winters, and returned to the reality of the desert night. his course was set. he knew what he had to do. * * * * * he laid the rifle across his knees and opened the little leather box sewn to the side of the guncase. with precise, careful movements he removed the silencer and fitted it to the threaded muzzle of the gun. the bulky, blue excrescence changed the rifle from a thing of beauty to one of murder. he looked at it distastefully, then shrugged and stretched out on the mattress, easing the ugly muzzle through the hole in the brickwork. it wouldn't be long now.... he glanced upward through the window above him at the weather bureau instruments atop a nearby building. the metal cups of the anemometer hung motionless against the metallic blue of the sky. no wind stirred in the deep canyons of the city streets as the sun climbed in blazing splendor above the towering buildings. he moved a trifle, shifting the muzzle of the gun until it bore upon the sidewalks. the telescopic sight picked out faces from the waiting crowd with a crystal clarity. everywhere was the same sheeplike placidity. he shuddered, the sights jumping crazily from one face to another,--wondering if he had misjudged his race, if he had really come too late, if he had underestimated the powers of the aztlans. far down the avenue, an excited hum came to his ears, and the watching crowd stirred. faces lighted and matson sighed. he was not wrong. emotion was only suppressed, not vanished. there was still time! the aliens were coming. coming to cap the climax of their pioneer work, to drive the first nail in humanity's coffin! for the first time in history man's dream of the brotherhood of man was close to reality. and he was about to destroy it! the irony bit into matson's soul, and for a moment he hesitated, feeling the wave of tolerance and good will rising from the street below. did he have the right to destroy man's dream? did he dare tamper with the will of the world? had he the right to play god? the parade came slowly down the happy street, a kaleidoscope of color and movement that approached and went past in successive waves and masses. this was a gala day, this eve of world union! the insigne of the un was everywhere. the aliens had used the organization to further their plans and it was now all-powerful. a solid bank of un flags led the van of delegates, smiling and swathed in formal dress, sitting erect in their black official cars draped with the flags of native lands that would soon be furled forever if the aliens had their way. and behind them came the aztlans! they rode together, standing on a pure white float, a bar of dazzling white in a sea of color. all equal, their inhumanly beautiful faces calm and remote, the aztlans rode through the joyful crowd. there was something inspiring about the sight and for a moment, matson felt a wave of revulsion sweep through him. he sighed and thumbed the safety to "off", pulled the cocking lever and slid the first cartridge into the breech. he settled himself drawing a breath of air into his lungs, letting a little dribble out through slack lips, catching the remainder of the exhalation with closed glottis. the sights wavered and steadied upon the head of the center alien, framing the pale noble face with its aureole of golden hair. the luminous eyes were dull and introspective as the alien tried to withdraw from the emotions of the crowd. there was no awareness of danger on the alien's face. at 600 yards he was beyond their esper range and he was further covered by the feelings of the crowd. the sights lowered to the broad chest and centered there as matson's spatulate fingers took up the slack in the trigger and squeezed softly and steadily. a coruscating glow bathed the bodies of three of the aliens as their tall forms jerked to the smashing impact of the bullets! their metallic tunics melted and sloughed as inner fires ate away the fragile garments that covered them! flexible synthetic skin cracked and curled in the infernal heat, revealing padding, wirelike tendons, rope-like cords of flexible tubing and a metallic skeleton that melted and dripped in white hot drops in the heat of atomic flame-"robots!" matson gasped with sudden blinding realization. "i should have known! no wonder they seemed inhuman. their builders would never dare expose themselves to the furies and conflicts of our emotionally uncontrolled world!" one of the aliens crouched on the float, his four-fingered hands pressed against a smoking hole in his metal tunic. the smoke thickened and a yellowish ichor poured out bursting into flame on contact with the air. the fifth alien, ixtl, was untouched, standing with hands widestretched in a gesture that at once held command and appeal. matson reloaded quickly, but held his fire. the swarming crowd surrounding the alien was too thick for a clear shot and matson, with sudden revulsion, was unwilling to risk further murder in a cause already won. the tall, silver figure of the alien winced and shuddered, his huge body shaking like a leaf in a storm! his builders had never designed him to withstand the barrage of focussed emotion that was sweeping from the crowd. terror, shock, sympathy, hate, loathing, grief, and disillusionment--the incredible gamut of human feelings wrenched and tore at the aztlan, shorting delicate circuits, ripping the poised balance of his being as the violent discordant blasts lanced through him with destroying energy! ixtl's classic features twisted in a spasm of inconceivable agony, a thin curl of smoke drifted from his distorted tragic mask of a mouth as he crumpled, a pitiful deflated figure against the whiteness of the float. the cries of fear and horror changed their note as the aliens' true nature dawned upon the crowd. pride of flesh recoiled as the swarming humans realized the facts. revulsion at being led by machines swelled into raw red rage. the mob madness spread as an ominous growl began rising from the streets. a panicky policeman triggered it, firing his aztlan-built shock tube into the forefront of the mob. a dozen men fell, to be trampled by their neighbors as a swarm of men and women poured over the struggling officer and buried him from sight. like wildfire, pent-up emotions blazed out in a flame of fury. the parade vanished, sucked into the maelstrom and torn apart. fists flew, flesh tore, men and women screamed in high bitter agony as the mob clawed and trampled in a surging press of writhing forms that filled the street from one line of buildings to the other. half-mad with triumph, drunk with victory, shocked at the terrible form that death had taken in coming to ixtl, matson raised his clenched hands to the sky and screamed in a raw inhuman voice, a cry in which all of man's violence and pride were blended! the spasm passed as quickly as it came, and with its passing came exhaustion. the job was done. the aliens were destroyed. tomorrow would bring reaction and with it would come fear. tomorrow or the next day man would hammer out a true world union, spurred by the thought of a retribution that would never come. yet all that didn't matter. the important thing--the only important thing--was preserved. mankind would have to unite for survival--or so men would think--and he would never disillusion them. for this was man's world, and men were again free to work out their own destiny for better or for worse, without interference, and without help. the golden dream was over. man might fail, but if he did he would fail on his own terms. and if he succeeded--matson looked up grimly at the shining sky.... slowly he rose to his feet and descended to the raging street below. end * * * * * the life, crime, and capture of john wilkes booth, with a full sketch of the conspiracy of which he was the leader, and the pursuit, trial and execution of his accomplices. by george alfred townsend, a special correspondent. [illustration: the life, crime, and capture of john wilkes booth and the pursuit, trial and execution of his accomplices.] explanatory. one year ago the writer of the letters which follow, visited the battle field of waterloo. in looking over many relics of the combat preserved in the museum there, he was particularly interested in the files of journals contemporary with the action. these contained the duke of wellington's first despatch announcing the victory, the reports of the subordinate commanders, and the current gossip as to the episodes and hazards of the day. the time will come when remarkable incidents of these our times will be a staple of as great curiosity as the issue of waterloo. it is an incident without a precedent on this side of the globe, and never to be repeated. assassination has made its last effort to become indigenous here. the public sentiment of loyalist and rebel has denounced it: the world has remarked it with uplifted hands and words of execration. therefore, as long as history shall hold good, the murder of the president will be a theme for poesy, romance and tragedy. we who live in this consecrated time keep the sacred souvenirs of mr. lincoln's death in our possession; and the best of these are the news letters descriptive of his apotheosis, and the fate of the conspirators who slew him. i represented the _world_ newspaper at washington during the whole of those exciting weeks, and wrote their occurrences fresh from the mouths of the actors. entered according to act of congress, in the year 1865, by dick & fitzgerald, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new york. prefatory. it has seemed fitting to messrs. dick & fitzgerald to reproduce the _world_ letters, as a keepsake for the many who received them kindly. the sketches appended were conscientiously written, and whatever embellishments they may seem to have grew out of the stirring events,--not out of my fancy. subsequent investigation has confirmed the veracity even of their speculations. i have arranged them, but have not altered them; if they represent nothing else, they do carry with them the fever and spirit of the time. but they do not assume to be literal history: we live too close to the events related to decide positively upon them. as a brochure of the day,--nothing more,--i give these sketches of a correspondent to the public. g. a. t. the life, crime, and capture of john wilkes booth. letter i. the murder. washington, april 17. some very deliberate and extraordinary movements were made by a handsome and extremely well-dressed young man in the city of washington last friday. at about half-past eleven o'clock a. m., this person, whose name is j. wilkes booth, by profession an actor, and recently engaged in oil speculations, sauntered into ford's theater, on tenth, between e and f streets, and exchanged greetings with the man at the box-office. in the conversation which ensued, the ticket agent informed booth that a box was taken for mr. lincoln and general grant, who were expected to visit the theater, and contribute to the benefit of miss laura keene, and satisfy the curiosity of a large audience. mr. booth went away with a jest, and a lightly-spoken "good afternoon." strolling down to pumphreys' stable, on c street, in the rear of the national hotel, he engaged a saddle horse, a high-strung, fast, beautiful bay mare, telling mr. pumphreys that he should call for her in the middle of the afternoon. from here he went to the kirkwood hotel, on the corner of pennsylvania avenue and twelfth street, where, calling for a card and a sheet of notepaper, he sat down and wrote upon the first as follows: _for mr. andrew johnson_:-i don't wish to disturb you; are you at home? j. w. booth. to this message, which was sent up by the obliging clerk, mr. johnson responded that he was very busily engaged. mr. booth smiled, and turning to his sheet of note-paper, wrote on it. the fact, if fact it is, that he had been disappointed in not obtaining an examination of the vice-president's apartment and a knowledge of the vice-president's probable whereabouts the ensuing evening, in no way affected his composure. the note, the contents of which are unknown, was signed and sealed within a few moments. booth arose, bowed to an acquaintance, and passed into the street. his elegant person was seen on the avenue a few minutes, and was withdrawn into the metropolitan hotel. at 4 p. m., he again appeared at pumphreys' livery stable, mounted the mare he had engaged, rode leisurely up f street, turned into an alley between ninth and tenth streets, and thence into an alley reloading to the rear of ford's theater, which fronts on tenth street, between e and f streets. here he alighted and deposited the mare in a small stable off the alley, which he had hired sometime before for the accommodation of a saddle-horse which he had recently sold. mr. booth soon afterward retired from the stable, and is supposed to have refreshed himself at a neighboring bar-room. at 8 o'clock the same evening, president lincoln and speaker colfax sat together in a private room at the white house, pleasantly conversing. general grant, with whom the president had engaged to attend ford's theater that evening, had left with his wife for burlington, new-jersey, in the 6 o'clock train. after this departure mr. lincoln rather reluctantly determined to keep his part of the engagement, rather than to disappoint his friends and the audience. mrs. lincoln, entering the room and turning to mr. colfax, said, in a half laughing, half serious way, "well, mr. lincoln, are you going to the theater with me or not?" "i suppose i shall have to go, colfax," said the president, and the speaker took his leave in company with major rathbone, of the provost-marshal general's office, who escorted miss harris, daughter of senator harris, of new york. mr. and mrs. lincoln reached ford's theater at twenty minutes before 9 o'clock. the house was filled in every part with a large and brilliantly attired audience. as the presidential party ascended the stairs, and passed behind the dress circle to the entrance of the private box reserved for them, the whole assemblage, having in mind the recent union victories, arose, cheered, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and manifesting every other accustomed sign of enthusiasm. the president, last to enter the box, turned before doing so, and bowed a courteous acknowledgment of his reception--at the moment of the president's arrival, mr. hawks, one of the actors, performing the well-known part of dundreary, had exclaimed: "this reminds me of a story, as mr. lincoln says." the audience forced him, after the interruption, to tell the story over again. it evidently pleased mr. lincoln, who turned laughingly to his wife and made a remark which was not overheard. [illustration: scene of the assassination. _x_ president's position. _a_ the course of the assassin after the murder. _bb_ movable partition not in use on the night of the assassination. _d_ door through which the assassin looked in taking aim. _c_ closed door through which pistol ball was fired.] the box in which the president sat consisted of two boxes turned into one, the middle partition being removed, as on all occasions when a state party visited the theater. the box was on a level with the dress circle; about twelve feet above the stage. there were two entrances--the door nearest to the wall having been closed and locked; the door nearest the balustrades of the dress circle, and at right angles with it, being open and left open, after the visitors had entered. the interior was carpeted, lined with crimson paper, and furnished with a sofa covered with crimson velvet, three arm chairs similarly covered, and six cane-bottomed chairs. festoons of flags hung before the front of the box against a background of lace. president lincoln took one of the arm-chairs and seated himself in the front of the box, in the angle nearest the audience, where, partially screened from observation, he had the best view of what was transpiring on the stage. mrs. lincoln sat next to him, and miss harris in the opposite angle nearest the stage. major rathbone sat just behind mrs. lincoln and miss harris. these four were the only persons in the box. the play proceeded, although "our american cousin," without mr. sothern, has, since that gentleman's departure from this country, been justly esteemed a very dull affair. the audience at ford's, including mrs. lincoln, seemed to enjoy it very much. the worthy wife of the president leaned forward, her hand upon her husband's knee, watching every scene in the drama with amused attention. even across the president's face at intervals swept a smile, robbing it of its habitual sadness. about the beginning of the second act, the mare, standing in the stable in the rear of the theater, was disturbed in the midst of her meal by the entrance of the young man who had quitted her in the afternoon. it is presumed that she was saddled and bridled with exquisite care. having completed these preparations, mr. booth entered the theater by the stage door; summoned one of the scene shifters, mr. john spangler, emerged through the same door with that individual, leaving the door open, and left the mare in his hands to be held until he (booth) should return. booth who was even more fashionably and richly dressed than usual, walked thence around to the front of the theater, and went in. ascending to the dress circle, he stood for a little time gazing around upon the audience and occasionally upon the stage in his usual graceful manner. he was subsequently observed by mr. ford, the proprietor of the theater, to be slowly elbowing his way through the crowd that packed the rear of the dress circle toward the right side, at the extremity of which was the box where mr. and mrs. lincoln and their companions were seated. mr. ford casually noticed this as a slightly extraordinary symptom of interest on the part of an actor so familiar with the routine of the theater and the play. the curtain had arisen on the third act, _mrs. mountchessington_ and _asa trenchard_ were exchanging vivacious stupidities, when a young man, so precisely resembling the one described as j. wilkes booth that be is asserted to be the same, appeared before the open door of the president's box, and prepared to enter. the servant who attended mr. lincoln said politely, "this is the president's box, sir, no one is permitted to enter." "i am a senator," responded the person, "mr. lincoln has sent for me." the attendant gave way, and the young man passed into the box. as he appeared at the door, taking a quick, comprehensive glance at the interior, major rathbone arose. "are you aware, sir," he said, courteously, "upon whom you are intruding? this is the president's box, and no one is admitted." the intruder answered not a word. fastening his eyes upon mr. lincoln, who had half turned his head to ascertain what caused the disturbance, he stepped quickly back without the door. without this door there was an eyehole, bored it is presumed on the afternoon of the crime, while the theater was deserted by all save a few mechanics. glancing through this orifice, john wilkes booth espied in a moment the precise position of the president; he wore upon his wrinkling face the pleasant embryo of an honest smile, forgetting in the mimic scene the splendid successes of our arms for which he was responsible, and the history he had filled so well. the cheerful interior was lost to j. wilkes booth. he did not catch the spirit of the delighted audience, of the flaming lamps flinging illumination upon the domestic foreground and the gaily set stage. he only cast one furtive glance upon the man he was to slay, and thrusting one hand in his bosom, another in his skirt pocket, drew forth simultaneously his deadly weapons. his right palm grasped a derringer pistol, his left a dirk. then, at a stride, he passed the threshold again, levelled his arm at the president and bent the trigger. a keen quick report and a puff of white smoke,--a close smell of powder and the rush of a dark, imperfectly outlined figure,--and the president's head dropped upon his shoulders: the ball was in his brain. [illustration: map. the theatre and its surroundings. _a_ public school. _b_ herndon house. _c_ only vacant lot communicating with the alley. _d_ only alley outlet to f street. _e_ bank. _x_ restaurant. _g_ newspaper office. _h_ model house. _i_ house to which the president was taken. _k_ alley through which the murderer escaped.] the movements of the assassin were from henceforth quick as the lightning, he dropped his pistol on the floor, and drawing a bowie-knife, struck major rathbone, who opposed him, ripping through his coat from the shoulder down, and inflicting a severe flesh wound in his arm. he leaped then upon the velvet covered balustrade at the front of the box, between mrs. lincoln and miss harris, and, parting with both hands the flags that drooped on either side, dropped to the stage beneath. arising and turning full upon the audience, with the knife lifted in his right hand above his head, he shouted "_sic, semper tyrannis_--virginia is avenged!" another instant he had fled across the stage and behind the scenes. colonel j. b. stewart, the only person in the audience who seemed to comprehend the deed he had committed, climbed from his seat near the orchestra to the stage, and followed close behind. the assassin was too fleet and too desperate, that fury incarnate, meeting mr. withers, the leader of the orchestra, just behind the scenes, had stricken him aside with a blow that fortunately was not a wound; overturning miss jenny gourlay, an actress, who came next in his path, he gained, without further hindrance, the back door previously left open at the rear of the theater; rushed through it; leaped upon the horse held by mr. spangler, and without vouchsafing that person a word of information, rode out through the alley leading into f street, and thence rapidly away. his horse's hoofs might almost have been heard amid the silence that for a few seconds dwelt in the interior of the theater. [illustration: _a_ miss laura keene's position. _d_ movable partition wall not in place on friday. _p_ position of the president. _x_ flats. _b_ dark passage-way--position of sentry. _e_ exit, or stage door. _mm_ entrance to box. _ccc_ entrance to dress circle, _h_ position of booth's horse.] then mrs. lincoln screamed, miss harris cried for water, and the full ghastly truth broke upon all--"the president is murdered!" the scene that ensued was as tumultuous and terrible as one of dante's pictures of hell. some women fainted, others uttered piercing shrieks, and cries for vengeance and unmeaning shouts for help burst from the mouths of men. miss laura keene, the actress, proved herself in this awful time as equal to sustain a part in real tragedy as to interpret that of the stage. pausing one moment before the footlights to entreat the audience to be calm, she ascended the stairs in the rear of mr. lincoln's box, entered it, took the dying president's head in her lap, bathed it with the water she had brought, and endeavoured to force some of the liquid through the insensible lips. the locality of the wound was at first supposed to be in the breast. it was not until after the neck and shoulders had been bared and no mark discovered, that the dress of miss keene, stained with blood, revealed where the ball had penetrated. this moment gave the most impressive episode in the history of the continent. the chief magistrate of thirty, millions of people--beloved, honored, revered,--lay in the pent up closet of a play-house, dabbling with his sacred blood the robes of an actress. as soon as the confusion and crowd was partially overcome, the form of the president was conveyed from the theater to the residence of mr. peterson, on the opposite side of tenth street. here upon a bed, in a little hastily prepared chamber, it was laid and attended by surgeon-general barnes and other physicians, speedily summoned. in the meanwhile the news spread through the capital, as if borne on tongues of flame. senator sumner, hearing at his residence, of the affair took a carriage and drove at a gallop to the white house, when he heard where it had taken place, to find robert lincoln and other members of the household still unaware of it. both drove to ford's theater, and were soon at the president's bedside. secretary stanton and the other members of the cabinet were at hand almost as soon. a vast crowd, surging up pennsylvania avenue toward willard's hotel, cried, "the president is shot!" "president lincoln is murdered." another crowd sweeping down the avenue met the first with the tidings, "secretary seward has been assassinated in bed." instantly a wild apprehension of an organized conspiracy and of other murders took possession of the people. the shout "to arms!" was mingled with the expressions of sorrow and rage that everywhere filled the air. "where is general grant?" or "where is secretary stanton!" "where are the rest of the cabinet?" broke from thousands of lips. a conflagration of fire is not half so terrible as was the conflagration of passion that rolled through the streets and houses of washington on that awful night. the attempt on the life of secretary seward was perhaps as daring, if not so dramatic, as the assassination of the president. at 9:20 o'clock a man, tall, athletic, and dressed in light coloured clothes, alighted from a horse in front of mr. seward's residence in madison place, where the secretary was lying, very feeble from his recent injuries. the house, a solid three-story brick building, was formerly the old washington club-house. leaving his horse standing, the stranger rang at the door, and informed the servant who admitted him that he desired to see mr. seward. the servant responded that mr. seward was very ill, and that no visitors were admitted. "but i am a messenger from dr. verdi, mr. seward's physician; i have a prescription which i must deliver to him myself." the servant still demurring, the stranger, without further parley, pushed him aside and ascended the stairs. moving to the right, he proceeded towards mr. seward's room, and was about to enter it, when mr. frederick seward appeared from an opposite doorway and demanded his business. he responded in the same manner as to the servant below, but being met with a refusal, suddenly closed the controversy by striking mr. seward a severe and perhaps mortal blow across the forehead with the butt of a pistol. as the first victim fell, major seward, another and younger son of the secretary, emerged from his father's room. without a word the man drew a knife and struck the major several blows with it, rushing into the chamber as he did so; then, after dealing the nurse a horrible wound across the bowels, he sprang to the bed upon which the secretary lay, stabbing him once in the face and neck. mr. seward arose convulsively and fell from the bed to the floor. turning and brandishing his knife anew, the assassin fled from the room, cleared the prostrate form of frederick seward in the hall, descended the stairs in three leaps, and was out of the door and upon his horse in an instant. it is stated by a person who saw him mount that, although he leaped upon his horse with most unseemly haste, he trotted away around the corner of the block with circumspect deliberation. around both the house on tenth street and the residence of secretary seward, as the fact of both tragedies became generally known, crowds soon gathered so vast and tumultuous that military guards scarcely sufficed to keep them from the doors. the room to which the president had been conveyed is on the first floor, at the end of the hall. it is only fifteen feet square, with a brussels carpet, papered with brown, and hung with a lithograph of rosa bonheur's "horse fair," an engraved copy of herring's "village blacksmith," and two smaller ones, of "the stable" and "the barn yard," from the same artist. a table and bureau, spread with crotchet work, eight chairs and the bed, were all the furniture. upon this bed, a low walnut four-poster, lay the dying president; the blood oozing from the frightful wound in his head and staining the pillow. all that the medical skill of half a dozen accomplished surgeons could do had been done to prolong a life evidently ebbing from a mortal hurt. secretary stanton, just arrived from the bedside of mr. seward, asked surgeon-general barnes what was mr. lincoln's condition. "i fear, mr. stanton, that there is no hope." "o, no, general; no, no;" and the man, of all others, apparently strange to tears, sank down beside the bed, the hot, bitter evidences of an awful sorrow trickling through his fingers to the floor. senator sumner sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding one of the president's hands in his own, and sobbing with kindred grief. secretary welles stood at the foot of the bed, his face hidden, his frame shaken with emotion. general halleck, attorney-general speed, postmaster-general dennison, m. b. field, assistant secretary of the treasury, judge otto, general meigs, and others, visited the chamber at times, and then retired. mrs. lincoln--but there is no need to speak of her. mrs. senator dixon soon arrived, and remained with her through the night. all through the night, while the horror-stricken crowds outside swept and gathered along the streets, while the military and police were patrolling and weaving a cordon around the city; while men were arming and asking each other, "what victim next?" while the telegraph was sending the news from city to city over the continent, and while the two assassins were speeding unharmed upon fleet horses far away--his chosen friends watched about the death-bed of the highest of the nation. occasionally dr. gurley, pastor of the church where mr. lincoln habitually attended, knelt down in prayer. occasionally mrs. lincoln and her sons, entered, to find no hope and to go back to ceaseless weeping. members of the cabinet, senators, representatives, generals, and others, took turns at the bedside. chief-justice chase remained until a late hour, and returned in the morning. secretary mcculloch remained a constant watcher until 5 a. m. not a gleam of consciousness shone across the visage of the president up to his death--a quiet, peaceful death at last--which came at twenty-two minutes past seven a. m. around the bedside at this time were secretaries stanton, welles, usher, attorney-general speed, postmaster-general dennison, m. b. field, assistant secretary of the treasury, judge otto, assistant secretary of the interior, general halleck, general meigs, senator sumner, f. r. andrews, of new-york, general todd, of dacotah, john hay, private secretary, governor oglesby, of illinois, general farnsworth, mrs. and miss kenny, miss harris, captain robert lincoln, son of the president, and drs. e. w. abbott, r. k. stone, c. d. gatch, neal hall, and leiberman. rev. dr. gurley, after the event, knelt with all around in prayer, and then, entering the adjoining room where were gathered mrs. lincoln, captain robert lincoln, mr. john hay, and others, prayed again. soon after 9 o'clock the remains were placed in a temporary coffin and conveyed to the white house under a small escort. in secretary seward's chamber, a similar although not so solemn a scene prevailed; between that chamber and the one occupied by president lincoln, visitors alternated to and fro through the night. it had been early ascertained that the wounds of the secretary were not likely to prove mortal. a wire instrument, to relieve the pain which he suffered from previous injuries, prevented the knife of the assassin from striking too deep. mr. frederick seward's injuries were more serious. his forehead was broken in by the blow from, the pistol, and up to this hour he has remained perfectly unconscious. the operation of trepanning the skull has been performed, but little hope is had of his recovery. major seward will get well. mr. hansell's condition is somewhat doubtful. secretary seward, who cannot speak, was not informed of the assassination of the president, and the injury of his son, until yesterday. he had been worrying as to why mr. lincoln did not visit him. "why does'nt the president come to see me?" he asked with his pencil. "where is frederick--what is the matter with him?" perceiving the nervous excitement which these doubts occasioned, a consultation was had, at which it was finally determined that it would be best to let the secretary know the worst. secretary stanton was chosen to tell him. sitting down beside mr. seward's bed, yesterday afternoon, he therefore related to him a full account of the whole affair. mr. seward was so surprised and shocked that he raised one hand involuntarily, and groaned. such is the condition of affairs at this stage of the terror. the pursuit of the assassins has commenced; the town is full of wild and baseless rumors; much that is said is stirring, little is reliable. i tell it to you as i get it, but fancy is more prolific than truth: be patient! [footnote: the facts above had been collected by mr. jerome b. stillion, before my arrival in washington: the arrangement of them is my own.] letter ii. the obsequies in washington. washington, april 19, (evening). the most significant and most creditable celebration ever held in washington has just transpired. a good ruler has been followed from his home to the capitol by a grand cortege, worthy of the memory and of the nation's power. as description must do injustice to the extent of the display, so must criticism fail to sufficiently commend its perfect tastefulness, rarely has a republican assemblage been so orderly. the funeral of mr. lincoln is something to be remembered for a _cycle_. it caps all eulogy upon his life and services, and was, without exception, the most representative, spontaneous, and remarkable testimonial ever rendered to the remains of an american citizen. the night before the funeral showed the probable character of the cortege. at willard's alone four hundred applications by telegraph for beds were refused. as many as six thousand persons spent tuesday night in the streets, in depots and in outbuildings. the population of the city this morning was not far short of a hundred thousand, and of these as many at thirty thousand walked in procession with mr. lincoln's ashes. all orders of folks were at hand. the country adjacent sent in hay-wagons, donkey-carts, dearborns. all who could slip away from the army came to town, and every attainable section of the union forwarded mourners. at no time in his life had mr. lincoln so many to throng about him as in this hour, when he is powerless to do any one a service. for once in history, office-seekers were disinterested, and contractors and hangers-on human. these came, for this time only, to the capital of the republic without an axe to grind or a curiosity to subserve; respect and grief were all their motive. this day was shown that the great public heart beats unselfish and reverent, even after a dynasty of plunder and war. the arrangements for the funeral were made by mr. harrington, assistant-secretary of the treasury, who was beset by applicants for tickets. the number of these were reduced to six hundred, the clergy getting sixty and the press twenty. i was among the first to pass the white house guards and enter the building. its freestone columns were draped in black, and all the windows were funereal. the ancient reception-room was half closed, and the famous east room, which is approached by a spacious hall, had been reserved for the obsequies. there are none present here but a few silent attendants of the late owner of the republican palace. deeply ensconced in the white satin stuffing of his coffin, the president lies like one asleep. the broad, high, beautiful room is like the varnished interior of a vault. the frescoed ceiling wears the national shield, some pointed vases filled with flowers and fruit, and three emblazonings of gilt pendant from which are shrouded chandeliers. a purplish gray is the prevailing tint of the ceiling. the cornice is silver white, set off by a velvet crimson. the wall paper is gold and red, broken by eight lofty mirrors, which are chastely margined with black and faced with fleece. their imperfect surfaces reflect the lofty catafalque, an open canopy of solemn alapaca, lined with tasteful satin of creamish lead, looped at the curving roof and dropping to the four corners in half transparent tapestry. beneath the roof, the half light shines upon a stage of fresh and fragrant flowers, up-bearing a long, high coffin. white lace of pure silver pendant from the border throws a mild shimmer upon the solid silver tracery hinges and emblazonings. a cross of lilies stands at the head, an anchor of roses at the foot. the lid is drawn back to show the face and bosom, and on the coffin top are heather, precious flowers, and sprigs of green. this catafalque, or in plain words, this coffin set upon a platform and canopied, has around it a sufficient space of brussels carpet, and on three sides of this there are raised steps covered with black, on which the honored visitors are to stand. the fourth side is bare, save of a single row of chairs some twenty in number, on which the reporters are to sit. the odor of the room is fresh and healthy; the shade is solemn, without being oppressive. all is rich, simple, and spacious, and in such sort as any king might wish to lie. approach and look at the dead man. death has fastened into his frozen face all the character and idiosyncrasy of life. he has not changed one line of his grave, grotesque countenance, nor smoothed out a single feature. the hue is rather bloodless and leaden; but he was alway sallow. the dark eyebrows seem abruptly arched; the beard, which will grow no more, is shaved close, save the tuft at the short small chin. the mouth is shut, like that of one who had put the foot down firm, and so are the eyes, which look as calm as slumber. the collar is short and awkward, turned over the stiff elastic cravat, and whatever energy or humor or tender gravity marked the living face is hardened into its pulseless outline. no corpse in the world is better prepared according to appearances. the white satin around it reflects sufficient light upon the face to show us that death is really there; but there are sweet roses and early magnolias, and the balmiest of lilies strewn around, as if the flowers had begun to bloom even upon his coffin. looking on uninterruptedly! for there is no pressure, and henceforward the place will be thronged with gazers who will take from the sight its suggestiveness and respect. three years ago, when little willie lincoln died, doctors brown and alexander, the embalmers or injectors, prepared his body so handsomely that the president had it twice disinterred to look upon it. the same men, in the same way, have made perpetual these beloved lineaments. there is now no blood in the body; it was drained by the jugular vein and sacredly preserved, and through a cutting on the inside of the thigh the empty blood vessels were charged with a chemical preparation which soon hardened to the consistence of stone. the long and bony body is now hard and stiff, so that beyond its present position it cannot be moved any more than the arms or legs of a statue. it has undergone many changes. the scalp has been removed, the brain taken out, the chest opened and the blood emptied. all that we see of abraham lincoln, so cunningly contemplated in this splendid coffin, is a mere shell, an effigy, a sculpture. he lies in sleep, but it is the sleep of marble. all that made this flesh vital, sentient, and affectionate is gone forever. the officers present are generals hunter and dyer and two staff captains. hunter, compact and dark and reticent, walks about the empty chamber in full uniform, his bright buttons and sash and sword contrasting with his dark blue uniform, gauntlets upon his hands, crape on his arm and blade, his corded hat in his hands, a paper collar just apparent above his velvet tips, and now and then he speaks to captain nesmith or captain dewes, of general harding's staff, rather as one who wishes company than one who has anything to say. his two silver stars upon his shoulder shine dimly in the draped apartment. he was one of the first in the war to urge the measures which mr. lincoln afterward adopted. the aids walk to and fro, selected without reference to any association with the late president. their clothes are rich, their swords wear mourning, they go in silence, everything is funereal. in the deeply-draped mirrors strange mirages are seen, as in the coffin scene of "lucretia borgia," where all the dusky perspectives bear vistas of gloomy palls. the upholsterers make timid noises of driving nails and spreading tapestry; but save ourselves and these few watchers and workers, only the dead is here. the white house, so ill-appreciated in common times, is seen to be capacious and elegant--no disgrace to the nation even in the eyes of those foreign folk of rank who shall gather here directly. as we sit brooding, with the pall straight before us, the funeral guns are heard indistinctly booming from the far forts, with the tap of drums in the serried street without, where troops and citizens are forming for the grand procession. we see through the window in the beautiful spring day that the grass is brightly green; and all the trees in blossom, show us through their archways the bronze and marble statues breaking the horizon. but there is one at an upper window, seeing all this through her tears, to whom the beautiful noon, with its wealth of zephyrs and sweets, can waft no gratulation. the father of her children, the confidant of her affection and ambition, has passed from life into immortality, and lies below, dumb, cold murdered. the feeling of sympathy for mrs. lincoln is as wide-spread as the regret for the chief magistrate. whatever indiscretions she may have committed in the abrupt transition from plainness to power are now forgiven and forgotten. she and her sons are the property of the nation associated with its truest glories and its worst bereavement. by and by the guests drop in, hat in hand, wearing upon their sleeves waving crape; and some of them slip up to the coffin to carry away a last impression of the fading face. but the first accession of force is that of the clergy, sixty in number. they are devout looking men, darkly attired, and have come from all the neighboring cities to represent every denomination. five years ago these were wrangling over slavery as a theological question, and at the beginning of the war it was hard, in many of their bodies, to carry loyal resolutions, to-day there are here such sincere mourners as robert pattison, of the methodist church, who passed much of his life among slaves and masters. he and the rest have come to believe that the president was wise and right, and follow him to his grave, as the apostles the interred on calvary. all these retire to the south end of the room, facing the feet of the corpse, and stand there silently to wait for the coming of others. very soon this east room is filled with the representative intelligence of the entire nation. the governors of states stand on the dais next to the head of the coffin, with the varied features of curtin, brough, fenton, stone, oglesby and ingraham. behind them are the mayors and councilmen of many towns paying their last respects to the representative of the source of all municipal freedom. to their left are the corporate officers of washington, zealous to make this day's funeral honors atone for the shame of the assassination. with these are sprinkled many scarred and worthy soldiers who have borne the burden of the grand war, and stand before this shape they loved in quiet civil reverence. still further down the steps and closer to the catafalque rest the familiar faces of many of our greatest generals--the manly features of augur, whose blood i have seen trickling forth upon the field of battle; the open almost, beardless contour of halleck, who has often talked of sieges and campaigns with this homely gentleman who is going to the grave. there are many more bright stars twinkling in contiguous shoulder bars, but sitting in a chair upon the beflowered carpet is ulysses grant, who has lived a century in the last three weeks and comes to-day to add the luster of his iron face to this thrilling and saddened picture. he wears white gloves and sash, and is swarthy, nervous, and almost tearful, his feet crossed, his square receding head turning now here now there, his treble constellation blazing upon the left shoulder only, but hidden on the right, and i seem to read upon his compact features the indurate and obstinate will to fight, on the line he has selected, the honor of the country through any peril, as if he had sworn it by the slain man's bier--his state-fellow, patron, and friend. here also is general mccallum, who has seamed the rebellious south with military roads to send victory along them, and bring back the groaning and the scarred. these and the rest are grand historic figures, worthy of all artistic depiction. they have looked so often into the mortar's mouth, that no bravo's blade can make them wince. do you see the thin-haired, conical head of the viking farragut, close by general grant, with many naval heroes close behind, storm-beaten, and every inch americans in thought and physiognomy? what think the foreign ambassadors of such men, in the light of their own overloaded bodies, where meaningless orders, crosses, and ribbons shine dimly in the funeral light? these legations number, perhaps, a hundred men, of all civilized races,--the sardinian envoy, jetty-eyed, towering above the rest. but they are still and respectful, gathered thus by a slain ruler, to see how worthy is the republic he has preserved. whatever sympathy these have for our institutions, i think that in such audience they must have been impressed with the futility of any thought that either one citizen right or one territorial inch can ever be torn from the united states. not to speak disparagingly of these noble guests, i was struck with the superior facial energy of our own public servants, who were generally larger, and brighter-faced, born of that aristocracy which took its patent from tubal cain, and abel the goatherd, and graduated in abraham lincoln. the haytien minister, swarthy and fiery-faced, is conspicuous among these. but nearer down, and just opposite the catafalque so that it is perpendicular to the direction of vision, stand the central powers of our government, its president and counsellors. president johnson is facing the middle of the coffin upon the lowest step; his hands are crossed upon his breast, his dark clothing just revealing his plaited shirt, and upon his full, plethoric, shaven face, broad and severely compact, two telling gray eyes rest under a thoughtful brow, whose turning hair is straight and smooth. beside him are vice-president hamlin, whom he succeeded, and ex-governor king, his most intimate friend, who lends to the ruling severity of the place a half falstaffian episode. the cabinet are behind, as if arranged for a daguerreotypist, stanton, short and quicksilvery, in long goatee and glasses, in stunted contrast to the tall and snow-tipped shape of mr. welles with the rest, practical and attentive, and at their side is secretary chase, high, dignified, and handsome, with folded arms, listening, but undemonstrative, a half-foot higher than any spectator, and dividing with charles sumner, who is near by, the preference for manly beauty in age. with mr. chase are other justices of the supreme court and to their left, near the feet of the corpse, are the reverend senators, representing the oldest and the newest states--splendid faces, a little worn with early and later toils, backed up by the high, classical features of colonel forney, their secretary. beyond are the representatives and leading officials of the various departments, with a few odd folks like george francis train, exquisite as ever, and, for this time only, with nothing to say. close by the corpse sit the relatives of the deceased, plain, honest, hardy people, typical as much of the simplicity of our institutions as of mr. lincoln's self-made eminence. no blood relatives of mr. lincoln were to be found. it is a singular evidence of the poverty of his origin, and therefore of his exceeding good report, that, excepting his immediate family, none answering to his name could be discovered. mrs. lincoln's relatives were present, however, in some force. dr. lyman beecher todd, general john b. s. todd, c. m. smith, esq., and mr. n. w. edwards, the late president's brother-in-law, plain, self-made people were here and were sincerely affected. captain robert lincoln sat during the services with his face in his handkerchief weeping quietly, and little tad his face red and heated, cried as if his heart would break. mrs. lincoln, weak, worn, and nervous, did not enter the east room nor follow the remains. she was the chief magistrate's lady yesterday; to-day a widow bearing only an immortal name. among the neighbors of the late president, who came from afar to pay respect to his remains, was one old gentleman who left richmond on sunday. i had been upon the boat with him and heard him in hot wrangle with some officers who advised the summary execution of all rebel leaders. this the old man opposed, when the feeling against him became so intense that he was compelled to retire. he counselled mercy, good faith, and forgiveness. to-day, the men who had called him a traitor, saw him among the family mourners, bent with grief. all these are waiting in solemn lines, standing erect, with a space of several feet between them and the coffin, and there is no bustle nor unseemly curiosity, not a whisper, not a footfall--only the collected nation looking with awed hearts upon eminent death. this scene is historic. i regret that i must tell you of it over a little wire, for it admits of all exemplification. in this high, spacious, elegant apartment, laughter and levee, social pleasantry and refined badinage, had often held their session. dancing and music had made those mirrors thrill which now reflect a pall, and where the most beautiful women of their day had mingled here with men of brilliant favor, now only a very few, brave enough to look upon death, were wearing funeral weeds. the pleasant face of mrs. kate sprague looks out from these; but such scenes gain little additional power by beauty's presence. and this wonderful relief was carved at one blow by john wilkes booth. the religious services began at noon. they were remarkable not only for their association with the national event, but for a tremendous political energy which they had. while none of the prayers or speeches exhibited great literary carefulness, or will obtain perpetuity on their own merits, they were full of feeling and expressed all the intense concern of the country. the procession surpassed in sentiment, populousness, and sincere good feeling, anything of the kind we have had in america. it was several miles long, and in all its elements was full and tasteful. the scene on the avenue will be alway remembered as the only occasion on which that great thoroughfare was a real adornment to the seat of government. in the tree tops, on the house tops, at all the windows, the silent and affected crowds clustered beneath half-mast banners and waving crape, to reverentially uncover as the dark vehicle, bearing its rich silver-mounted coffin, swept along; mottoes of respect and homage were on many edifices, and singularly some of them were taken from the play of richard iii., which was the murderer's favorite part the entire width of the avenue was swept, from curb to curb, by the deep lines. the chief excellence of this procession was its representative nature. all classes, localities and trades were out. as the troops in broad, straight columns, with reversed muskets, moved to solemn marches, all the guns on the fortifications on the surrounding hills discharged hoarse salutes--guns which the arbiter of war whom they were to honor could hear no longer. every business place was closed. sabermen swept the street of footmen and horsemen. the carriages drove two abreast. not less than five thousand officers, of every rank, marched abreast with the cortege. they were noble looking men with intelligent faces, and represented the sinews of the land, and the music was not the least excellent feature of the mournful display. about thirty bands were in the line, and these played all varieties of solemn marches, so that there were continual and mingling strains of funeral music for more than three hours. artillery, consisting of heavy brass pieces, followed behind. in fact, all the citizen virtues and all the military enterprise of the country were evidenced. never again, until washington becomes in fact what it is in name, the chief city of america, shall we have a scene like this repeated--the grandest procession ever seen on this continent, spontaneously evoked to celebrate the foulest crime on record. if any feeling of gratulation could arise in so calamitous a time, it would be, that so soon after this appalling calamity the nation calmly and collectedly rallied about its succeeding rulers, and showed in the same moment its regret for the past and its resolution for the future. to me, the scene in the white house, the street, and the capitol to-day, was the strongest evidence the war afforded of the stability of our institutions, and the worthiness and magnanimous power of our people. the cortege passed to the left side of the capitol, and entering the great gates, passed to the grand stairway, opposite the splendid dome, where the coffin was disengaged and carried up the ascent. it was posted under the bright concave, now streaked with mournful trappings, and left in state, watched by guards of officers with drawn swords. this was a wonderful spectacle, the man most beloved and honored in the ark of the republic. the storied paintings representing eras in its history were draped in sable, through which they seemed to cast reverential glances upon the lamented bier. the thrilling scenes depicted by trumbull, the commemorative canvases of leutze, the wilderness vegetation of powell, glared from their separate pedestals upon the central spot where lay the fallen majesty of the country. here the prayers and addresses of the noon were rehearsed and the solemn burial service read. at night the jets of gas concealed in the spring of the dome were lighted up, so that their bright reflection masses of burning light, like marvelous haloes, upon the little box where so much that we love and honor rested on its way to the grave. and so through the starry night, in the fane of the great union he had strengthened and recovered, the ashes of abraham lincoln, zealously guarded, are now reposing. the sage, the citizen, the patriot, the man, has reached all the eminence that life can give the worthy or the ambitious. the hunted fugitive who struck through our hearts to slay him, should stand beside his stately bier to see how powerless are bullets and blades to take the real life of any noble man! letter iii. the murderer. washington, april 27th. justice is satisfied, though blinder vengeance may not be. while the illustrious murdered is on the way to the shrine, the stark corpse of his murderer lies in the shambles. the one died quietly, like his life; the other died fighting, like his crime. and now that over all of them the darkness and the dew have descended, the populace, which may not be all satisfied, may perhaps be calmed. no triumphal mourning can add to the president's glory; no further execration can disturb the assassin's slumbers. they have gone for what they were into history, into tradition, into the hereafter both of men and spirits; and what they were may be in part concluded. mr. lincoln's career passes, in extent, gravity, and eventful association, the province of newspaper biography; but booth is the hero of a single deed, and the delineation of him may begin and be exhausted in a single article. i have been at pains, since the day of the president's obsequies, to collect all valid information on the subject of his assassin, in anticipation of the latter's capture and death. now that these have been consummated, i shall print this biography. the elder booth in every land was a sojourner, as all his fathers were. of hebrew descent, and by a line of actors, he united in himself that strong jewish physiognomy which, in its nobler phases, makes all that is dark and beautiful, and the combined vagrancy of all men of genius and all men of the stage. fitful, powerful, passionate, his life was a succession of vices and triumphs. he mastered the intricate characters of dramatic literature by intuition, rather than by study, and produced them with a vigor and vividness which almost passed the depicting of real life. the stage on which he raved and fought became as historic as the actual decks of battle ships, and his small and brawny figure comes down to us in those paroxysms of delirious art, like that of _harold, or richard, or prince rupert_. he drank to excess, was profligate but not generous, required but not reliable, and licentious to the bounds of cruelty. he threw off the wife of his bosom to fly from england with a flower-girl, and, settling in baltimore, dwelt with his younger companion, and brought up many children, while his first-possessed went down to a drunken and broken-hearted death. he himself, wandering westward, died on the way, errant and feverish, even in the closing moments. his widow, too conscious of her predecessor's wrongs, and often taunted with them, lived apart, frugal and discreet, and brought her six children up to honorable maturity. these were junius brutus, edwin forrest (though he drops the forrest for professional considerations), john wilkes, joseph, and the girls. all of the boys are known to more or less of fame; none of them in his art has reached the renown of the father; but one has sent his name as far as that of the great playwright to whom they were pupils; wherever shakspeare is quoted, john wilkes booth will be named, and infamously, like that hubert in "king john," who would have murdered the gentle prince arthur. it may not be a digression here to ask what has become of the children of the weird genius i have sketched above. mrs. booth, against whom calumny has had no word to say, now resides with her daughters in nineteenth street, new-york. john s. clarke dwells in princely style in philadelphia, with the daughter whom he married; he is the business partner of edwin booth, and they are likely to become as powerful managers as they have been successful "stars." edwin booth, who is said to have the most perfect physical head in america, and whom the ladies call the beau ideal of the melancholy dane, dwells also on nineteenth street. he has acquired a fortune, and is, without doubt, a frankly loyal gentleman. he could not well be otherwise from his membership in the century club where literature and loyalty, are never dissolved. correct and pleasing without being powerful or brilliant, he has led a plain and appreciated career, and latterly, to his honor, has been awakening among dramatic authors some emulation by offering handsome compensations for original plays. junius brutus booth, the oldest of them all, most resembles in feature his wild and wayward father; he is not as good an actor as was wilkes, and kept in the west, that border civilization of the drama; he now lies, on a serious charge of complicity, in capitol hill jail. joseph booth tried the stage as an utility actor and promptly failed. the best part he ever had to play was _orson_ in the "iron chest," and his discomfiture was signal; then he studied medicine but grew discouraged, and is now in california in an office of some sort. a son of booth by his first wife became a first class lawyer in boston. he never recognized the rest of the family. wilkes booth, the third son, was shot dead on wednesday for attempting to escape from the consequences of murder. such are the people to whom one of the greatest actors of our time gave his name and lineaments. but i have anticipated the story: although her family was large, it was not so hard sailing with mrs. rosalie booth as may be inferred. her husband's gains had been variably great, and they owned a farm of some value near baltimore. the boys had plain but not sufficient schooling, though by the time john wilkes grew up edwin and junius were making some little money and helping the family. so wilkes was sent to a better school than they, where he made some eventful acquaintances. one of these won his admiration as much in the playground as in subsequent life upon the field of battle; this was fitzhugh lee, son of the great rebel chieftain. i have not heard that lee ever had any friendship for young wilkes, but his port and name were enough to excite a less ardent imagination--the son of a soldier already great, and a descendant of washington. wilkes booth has often spoken of the memory of the young man, envied his success, and, perhaps, boasted of more intimacy than he ever had. the exemplars of young wilkes, it was soon seen, were anything but literary. he hated school and pent-up life, and loved the open air. he used to stroll off to fish, though that sort of amusement was too sedentary for his nature, but went on fowling jaunts with enthusiasm. in these latter he manifested that fine nerve, and certain eye, which was the talk of all his associates; but his greatest love was the stable; he learned to ride with his first pair of boots, and hung around the grooms to beg permission to take the nags to water. he grew in later life to be both an indurated and a graceful horseman. toward his mother and sisters he was affectionate without being obedient. of all the sons, wilkes was the most headstrong in-doors, and the most contented away from home. he had a fitful gentleness which won him forgiveness, and of one of his sisters he was particularly fond, but none had influence over him. he was seldom contentious, but obstinately bent, and what he willed, to did in silence, seeming to discard sympathy or confidence. as a boy he was never bright, except in a boy's sense; that is, he could run and leap well, fight when challenged, and generally fell in with the sentiment of the crowd. he therefore made many companions, and his early days all passed between baltimore city and the adjacent farm. i have heard it said as the only evidence of booth's ferocity in those early times that he was always shooting cats, and killed off almost the entire breed in his neighbourhood. but on more than one occasion he ran away from both school and home, and once made the trip of the chesapeake to the oyster fisheries without advising anybody of his family. while yet very young, wilkes booth became an habitue at the theater. his traditions and tastes were all in that direction. his blood was of the stage, like that of the keans, the kembles, and the wallacks. he would not commence at the bottom of the ladder and climb from round to round, nor take part in more than a few thespian efforts. one night, however, a young actor, who was to have a benefit and wished to fill the house, resolved for the better purpose to give wilkes a chance. he announced that a son of the great booth of tradition, would enact the part of richmond, and the announcement was enough. before a crowded place, booth played so badly that he was hissed. still holding to his gossamer hopes and high conceit, wilkes induced john s. clarke, who was then addressing his sister, to obtain him a position in the company of the arch street theater at philadelphia. for eight dollars a week, wilkes booth, at the age of twenty-two, contracted with william wheatley to play in any piece or part for which he might be cast, and to appear every day at rehearsal. he had to play the _courier_ in sheridan knowles's "wife" on his first night, with five or ten little speeches to make; but such was his nervousness that he blundered continually, and quite balked the piece. soon afterward he undertook the part of one of the venetian comrades in hugo's "lucretia borgia," and was to have said in his turn-"madame, i am petruchio pandolfo;" instead of which he exclaimed: "madame, i am pondolfio pet--, pedolfio pat--, pantuchio ped--; damn it? what am i?" the audience roared, and booth, though full of chagrin, was compelled to laugh with them. the very next night he was to play _dawson_, an important part in moore's tragedy of "the gamester." he had bought a new dress to wear on this night, and made abundant preparation to do himself honor. he therefore invited a lady whom he knew to visit the theater, and witness his triumph. but at the instant of his appearance on the stage, the audience, remembering the petruchio pandolfo of the previous night, burst into laughter, hisses, and mock applause, so that he was struck dumb, and stood rigid, with nothing whatever to say. mr. john dolman, to whose _stukely_ has played, was compelled, therefore, to strike _dawson_ entirely out of the piece. these occurrences nettled booth, who protested that he studied faithfully but that his want of confidence ruined him. mr. fredericks the stage manager made constant complaints of booth, who by the way, did not play under his full name, but as mr. j. wilkes--and he bore the general reputation of having no promise, and being a careless fellow. he associated freely with such of the subordinate actors as he liked; but being, through clarke, then a rising favourite, of better connections, might, had he chosen, advanced himself socially, if not artistically. clarke was to have a benefit one evening, and to enact, among other things, a mock _richard iii_., to which he allowed wilkes booth to play a real _richmond_. on this occasion, for the first time, booth showed some energy, and obtain some applause. but, in general, he was stumbling and worthless i myself remember, on three consecutive nights, hearing him trip up and receive suppressed hisses. he lacked enterprise; other young actors, instead of waiting to be given better parts, committed them to memory, in the hope that their real interpreter might not come to hand. among these i recall john mccullough, who afterwards became quite a celebrated actor. he was getting, if i correctly remember, only six dollars a week, while booth obtained eight. yet wilkes booth seemed too slow or indifferent to get on the weather side of such chances. he still held the part of third walking gentleman, and the third is always the first to be walked off in case of strait, as was wilkes booth. he did not survive forty weeks engagement, nor make above three hundred dollars in all that time. the kellers arrived; they cut down the company, and they dispensed with wilkes booth. he is remembered in philadelphia by his failure as in the world by his crime. about this time a manager named kunkle gave booth a salary of twenty dollars a week to go to the richmond theater. there he played a higher order of parts, and played them better, winning applauses from the easy provincial cities, and taking, as everywhere the ladies by storm. i have never wondered why many actors were strongly predisposed toward the south. there, their social status is nine times as big as with us. the hospitable, lounging, buzzing character of the southerner is entirely consonant with the cosmopolitanism of the stage, and that easy "hang-up-your-hatativeness," which is the rule and the demand in thespianship. we place actors outside of society, and execrate them because they are there. the south took them into affable fellowship, and was not ruined by it, but beloved by the fraternity. booth played two seasons in richmond, and left in some esteem. when the john brown raid occured, booth left the richmond theater for the scene of strife in a picked company with which he had affiliated for some time. from his connection with the militia on this occasion he was wont to trace his fealty to virginia. he was a non-commissioned officer, and remained at charleston till after the execution, visiting the old pike man in jail, and his company was selected to form guard around the scaffold when john brown went, white-haired, to his account. there may be in this a consolation for the canonizers of the first arm-bearer between the sections, that one whose unit swelled the host to crush out that brave old life, took from the scene inspiration enough to slay a merciful president in his unsuspecting leisure. booth never referred to john brown's death in bravado; possibly at that gallows began some such terrible purpose as he afterward consummated. it was close upon the beginning of the war when booth resolved to transform himself from a stock actor to a "star." as many will read this who do not understand such distinctions, let me preface it by explaining that a "star" is an actor who belongs to no one theater, but travels from each to all, playing a few weeks at a time, and sustained in his chief character by the regular or stock actors. a stock actor is a good actor, and a poor fool. a star is an advertisement in tights, who grows rich and corrupts the public taste. booth was a star, and being so, had an agent. the agent is a trumpeter who goes on before, writing the impartial notices which you see in the editorial columns of country papers and counting noses at the theater doors. booth's agent was one matthew canning, an exploded philadelphia lawyer, who took to managing by passing the bar, and j. wilkes no longer, but our country's rising tragedian. j. wilkes booth, opened in montgomery, alabama, in his father's consecrated part of _richard iii_. it was very different work between receiving eight dollars a week and getting half the gross proceeds of every performance. booth kept northward when his engagement was done, playing in many cities such parts as _romeo_, the _corsican brothers_, and _raphael_ in the "_marble heart_;" in all of these he gained applause, and his journey eastward, ending in eastern cities like providence, portland, and boston was a long success, in part deserved. in boston he received especial commendation for his enactment of _richard_. i have looked over this play, his best and favorite one, to see how closely the career of the crookback he so often delineated resembled his own. how like that fearful night of _richard_ on bosworth field must have been booth's sleep in the barn at port royal, tortured by ghosts of victims all repeating. "when i was mortal my anointed body by thee was punched full of deadly holes: think on the tower and me! despair and die!" or this, from some of booth's female victims: "let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! i that was washed to death with fulsome wine; poor clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death: to-morrow in the battle think on me; despair and die!" these terrible conjurations must have recalled how aptly the scene as often rehearsed by booth, sword in hand, where, leaping from his bed, he cries in horror: "give me another horse! bind up my wounds! have mercy, jesu! soft! i did but dream. oh! coward conscience how thou dost afflict me! the lights burn blue. it is now dead midnight! cold, flareful drops stand on my trembling flesh. what do i fear? myself! there is none else by: is there a murderer here? no!--yes!--i am! then fly,--what from myself? * * * * * my conscience hath a thousand several tongues, and every tongue brings in a several tale. and every tale condemns me for a villain! perjury, perjury in the highest degree: murder, stern murder in the direst degree: all several sins, all used in each degree. throng to the bar, crying all, _guilty! guilty!_" by these starring engagments, booth made incredible sums. his cashbook, for one single season, showed earnings deposited in bank of twenty-two odd thousand dollars. in new york he did not get a hearing, except at a benefit or two: where he played parts not of his selection. in philadelphia his earlier failure predisposed the people to discard him, and they did. but he had made enough, and resolved to invest his winnings, the oil fever had just begun; he hired an agent, sent him to the western districts and gave him discretionary power; his investments all turned out profitable. booth died, as far as understood without debts. the day before the murder he paid an old friend a hundred dollars which he had borrowed two days previously. he banked at jay cook's in washington, generally; but turned most of his funds into stock and other matters. he gave eighty dollars eight month's ago for a part investing with others in a piece of western oil land. the certificate for this land he gave to his sister. just before he died his agent informed him that the share was worth fifteen thousand dollars. booth kept his accounts latterly with great regularity, and was lavish as ever, but took note of all expenditures, however irregular. he was one of those men whom the possession of money seems to have energized; his life, so purposeless long before, grew by good fortune to a strict computation with the world. yet what availed so sudden reformation, and of what use was the gaining of wealth, to throw one's life so soon away, and leap from competence to hunted infamy. the beauty of this man and his easy confidentiality, not familiar, but marked by a mild and even dignity, made many women impassioned of him. he was licentious as men, and particularly as actors go, but not a seducer, so far as i can learn. i have traced one case in philadelphia where a young girl who had seen him on the stage became enamored of him. she sent him bouquets, notes, photographs and all the accessories of an intrigue. booth, to whom such things were common, yielded to the girl's importunities at last and gave her an interview. he was surprised to find that so bold a correspondent was so young, so fresh, and so beautiful. he told her therefore, in pity, the consequences of pursuing him; that he entertained no affection for her, though a sufficient desire, and that he was a man of the world to whom all women grew fulsome in their turn. "go home," he said, "and beware of actors. they are to be seen, not to be known." the girl, yet more infatuated, persisted. booth, who had no real virtue except by scintillations, became what he had promised, and one more soul went to the isles of cyprus. in montgomery, if i do not mistake, booth met the woman from whom he received a stab which he carried all the rest of his days. she was an actress, and he visited her. they assumed a relation creditable only in _la boheme_, and were as tender as love without esteem can ever be. but, after a time, booth wearied of her and offered to say "good by." she refused--he treated her coldly; she pleaded--he passed her by. then, with a jealous woman's frenzy, she drew a knife upon him and stabbed him in the neck, with the intent to kill him. being muscular, he quickly disarmed her, though he afterward suffered from the wound poignantly. does it not bring a blush to our faces that a good, great man, like he who has died--our president--should have met his fate from one so inured to a life of ribaldry? yet, only such an one could have been found to murder abraham lincoln. the women persecuted booth more than he followed them. he was waylaid by married women in every provincial town or city where he played. his face was so youthful, yet so manly, and his movements so graceful and excellent, that other than the coarse and errant placed themselves in his way. after his celebrated boston engagement, women of all ages and degrees pressed in crowds before the tremont house to see him depart. their motives were various, but whether curiosity or worse, exhibiting plainly the deep influence which booth had upon the sex. he could be anywhere easy and gentlemanly, and it is a matter of wonder that with the entry which he had to many well-stocked homes, he did not make hospitality mourn and friendship find in his visit shame and ruin. i have not space to go into the millionth catalogue of booth's intrigues, even if this journal permitted further elucidation of so banned a subject. most of his adherents of this class were, like heine's polish virgins, and he was very popular with those dramatic ladies--few, i hope and know, in their profession--to whom divorce courts are superfluous. his last permanent acquaintance was one ella turner, of richmond, who loved him with all the impetuosity of that love which does not think, and strove to die at the tidings of his crime and fight. happy that even such a woman did not die associated with john wilkes booth. such devotion to any other murderer would have earned some poet's tear. but the daisies will not grow a whole rod from _his_ grave. of what avail, may we ask, on the impossible supposition that booth's crime could have been considered heroic, was it that such a record should have dared to die for fame? victory would have been ashamed of its champion, as england of nelson, and france of mirabeau. i may add to this record that he had not been in philadelphia a year, on first setting out in life, before getting into a transaction of the kind specified. for an affair at his boarding-house he was compelled to pay a considerable sum of money, and it happily occurred just as he was to quit the city. he had many quarrels and narrow escapes through his license, a husband in syracuse, n. y., once followed him all the way to cleveland to avenge a domestic insult. booth's paper "to whom it may concern" was not his only attempt at influential composition. he sometimes persuaded himself that he had literary ability; but his orthography and pronunciation were worse than his syntax. the paper deposited with j. s. clarke was useful as showing his power to entertain a deliberate purpose. it has one or two smart passages in it--as this: "our once bright red stripes look like _bloody gashes_ on the face of heaven." in the passages following there is common sense and lunacy: "i know how foolish i shall be deemed for undertaking such a step as this, where, on the one side, i have many friends and everything to make me happy, where my profession _alone_, has gained me an income of _more than_ twenty thousand dollars a year, and where my _great personal ambition_ in my profession has such a great field for labor. on the other hand, the south have never bestowed upon me one kind word; a place now where i have no friends, except beneath the sod; a place where i must either become a private soldier or a beggar. to give up all of the _former_ for the _latter_, besides my mother and sisters, whom i love so dearly (although they so widely differ with me in opinion) seems insane; but god is my judge." now, read the beginning of the manifesto, and see how prophetic were his words of his coming infamy. if he expected so much for capturing the president merely, what of our execration at slaying him? "right or wrong, god judge me, not man. for be my motive good or bad, of one thing i am sure, _the lasting condemnation_ of the north. "i love peace more than life. have loved the union beyond expression. for four years have i waited, hoped and prayed for the dark clouds to break, and for a restoration of our former sunshine. _to wait longer would be a crime_. all hope for peace is dead. my prayers have proved as idle as my hopes. god's will be done. _i go to see and share the bitter end_." to wait longer would be a crime. oh! what was the crime _not_ to wait! had he only shared the bitter end, then, in the common trench, his memory might have been hidden. the end had come when he appeared to make of benignant victory a quenchless revenge. one more selection from his apostrophe will do. it suggests the manner of his death: "they say that the south has found _that_ 'last ditch' which the north have so long derided. should i reach her in safety, and find it true, i will proudly beg permission to triumph or die in that same 'ditch' by her side." the swamp near which he died may be called, without unseemly pun--a truth, not a _bon mot_--the last ditch of the rebellion. none of the printed pictures that i have seen do justice to booth. some of the _cartes de visite_ get him very nearly. he had one of the finest vital heads i have ever seen. in fact, he was one of the best exponents of vital beauty i have ever met. by this i refer to physical beauty in the medician sense--health, shapeliness, power in beautiful poise, and seemingly more powerful in repose than in energy. his hands and feet were sizable, not small, and his legs were stout and muscular, but inclined to bow like his father's. from the waist up he was a perfect man; his chest being full and broad, his shoulders gently sloping, and his arms as white as alabaster, but hard as marble. over these, upon a neck which was its proper column, rose the cornice of a fine doric face, spare at the jaws and not anywhere over-ripe, but seamed with a nose of roman model, the only relic of his half-jewish parentage, which gave decision to the thoughtfully stern sweep of two direct, dark eyes, meaning to woman snare, and to man a search warrant, while the lofty square forehead and square brows were crowned with a weight of curling jetty hair, like a rich corinthian capital. his profile was eagleish, and afar his countenance was haughty. he seemed throat full of introspections, ambitious self-examinings, eye-strides into the future, as if it withheld him something to which he had a right. i have since wondered whether this moody demeanor did not come of a guilty spirit, but all the booths look so. wilkes spoke to me in washington for the first time three weeks before the murder. his address was winning as a girl's, rising in effect not from what he said, but from how he said it. it was magnetic, and i can describe it therefore by its effects alone. i seemed, when he had spoken, to lean toward this man. his attitude spoke to me; with as easy familiarity as i ever observed he drew rear and conversed. the talk was on so trite things that it did not lie a second in the head, but when i left him it was with the feeling that a most agreeable fellow had passed by. the next time the name of wilkes booth recurred to me was like the pistol shot he had fired. the right hand i had shaken murdered the father of the country. booth was not graceful with his feet, although his ordinary walk was pleasant enough. but his arms were put to artistic uses; not the baser ones like boxing, but all sorts of fencing, manual practice, and the handling of weapons. in his dress, he was neat without being particular. almost any clothes could fit him; but he had nothing of the exquisite about him; his neckties and all such matters were good without being gaudy. nature had done much for him. in this beautiful palace an outlaw had builded his fire, and slept, and plotted, and dreamed. i have heard it said that booth frequently cut his adversaries upon the stage in sheer wantonness or bloodthirstiness. this is a mistake, and is attributable to his father, the elder booth, who had the madness of confounding himself with the character. wilkes was too good a fencer to make ugly gashes; his pride was his skill, not his awkwardness. once he was playing with john mccullough in the last act of "richard." they were fighting desperately. suddenly the cross-piece on the hilt of mccullough's sword flew off and cut the owner deeply in the forehead. blood ran down mccullough's face, though they continued to struggle, and while, ostensibly, booth was imitating a demon, he said in a half whisper: "good god, john, did i hurt you?" and when they went off the stage, booth was white with fear that he had gashed his friend. as an actor, booth was too energetic to be correct; his conception of richard was vivid and original, one of the best that we have had, and he came nearer his father's rendering of the last act than any body we have had. his combat scene was terrific. the statement that his voice had failed has no valid foundation; it was as good when he challenged the cavalry-men to combat as in the best of his thespian successes. in all acting that required delicate characterization, refined conception or carefulness, booth was at sea. but in strong physical parts, requiring fair reading and an abundance of spring and tension, he was much finer than hearsay would have us believe. his _romeo_ was described a short time ago by the washington _intelligencer_ as the most satisfactory of all renderings of that fine character. he played the _corsican brothers_ three weeks on a run in boston. he played _pescara_ at ford's theater--his last mock part in this world--on to-morrow (saturday) night, six weeks ago. he was fond of learning and reciting fugitive poems. his favorite piece was "the beautiful snow" comparing it to a lost purity. he has been known by gentlemen in this city to recite this poem with fine effect, and cry all the while. this was on the principle of "guilty people sitting at a play." his pocket-book was generally full of little selections picked up at random, and he had considerable delicacy of appreciation. on the morning of the murder, booth breakfasted with miss carrie bean, the daughter of a merchant, and a very respectable young lady, at the national hall. he arose from the table at, say eleven o'clock. during the breakfast, those who watched him say that he was lively, piquant and self-possessed as ever in his life. that night the horrible crime thrilled the land. a period of crippled flight succeeded. living in swamps, upon trembling hospitality, upon hopes which sank as he leaned upon them. booth passed the nights in perilous route or broken sleep, and in the end went down like a bravo, but in the eyes of all who read his history, commanding no respect for his valor, charity for his motive, or sympathy for his sin. the closing scenes of these terrible days are reserved for a second paper. much matter that should have gone into this is retained for the present. letter iv. the assassin's death. washington, april 28--8 p. m. a hard and grizzly face overlooks me as i write. its inconsiderable forehead is crowned with turning sandy hair, and the deep concave of its long insatiate jaws is almost hidden by a dense red beard, which can not still abate the terrible decision of the large mouth, so well sustained by searching eyes of spotted gray, which roll and rivet one. this is the face of lafayette baker, colonel and chief of the secret service. he has played the most perilous parts of the war, and is the capturer of the late president's murderer. the story that i am to tell you, as he and his trusty dependents told it to me, will be aptly commenced here, where the net was woven which took the dying life of wilkes booth. when the murder occured, colonel baker was absent from washington, he returned on the third morning, and was at once besought by secretary stanton to join the hue and cry against the escaped booth. the sagacious detective found that nearly ten thousand cavalry, and one-fourth as many policemen, had been meantime scouring, without plan or compass, the whole territory of southern maryland. they were treading on each other's heels, and mixing up the thing so confoundedly, that the best place for the culprits to have gone would have been in the very midst of their pursuers. baker at once possessed himself of the little the war department had learned, and started immediately to take the usual detective measures, till then neglected, of offering a reward and getting out photographs of the suspected ones. he then dispatched a few chosen detectives to certain vital points, and awaited results. the first of these was the capture of atzeroth. others, like the taking of dr. mudge, simultaneously occured. but the district supected being remote from the railway routes, and broken by no telegraph station, the colonel, to place himself nearer the theater of events, ordered an operator, with the necessary instrument, to tap the wire running to point lookout, near chappells point, and send him prompt messages. the same steamer which took down the operator and two detectives. brought back one of the same detectives and a negro. this negro, taken to colonel baker's office, stated so positively that he had seen booth and another man cross the potomac in a fishing boat, while he was looking down upon them from a bank, that the colonel, was at first skeptical; but when examined the negro answered so readily and intelligently, recognizing the men from the photographs, that baker knew at last that he had the true scent. straightway he sent to general hancock for twenty-five men, and while the order was going, drew down his coast survey-maps. with that quick detective intuition amounting almost to inspiration, he cast upon the probable route and destination of the refugees, as well as the point where he would soonest strike them. booth, he knew, would not keep along the coast, with frequent deep rivers to cross, nor, indeed, in any direction east of richmond, where he was liable at any time to cross our lines of occupation; nor, being lame, could he ride on; horseback, so as to place himself very far westward of his point of debarkation in virginia. but he would travel in a direct course from bluff point, where he crossed to eastern tennessee, and this would take him through port royal on the rappahannock river, in time to be intercepted there by the outgoing cavalry men. when, therefore, twenty-five men, under one lieutenant dougherty, arrived at his office door, baker placed the whole under control of his former lieutenant-colonel, e. j. conger, and of his cousin, lieutenant l. b. baker--the first of ohio, the last of new-york--and bade them go with all dispatch to belle plain on the lower potomac, there to disembark, and scour the country faithfully around port royal, but not to return unless they captured their men. conger is a short, decided, indomitable, courageous fellow, provincial in his manners, but fully understanding his business, and collected as a housewife on sunday. young baker is large and fine-looking--a soldier, but no policeman--and he deferred to conger, very properly, during most of the events succeeding. quitting washington at 2 o'clock p. m. on monday, the detectives and cavalrymen disembarked at belle plain, on the border of stafford county, at 10 o'clock, in the darkness. belle plain is simply the nearest landing to fredericksburg, seventy miles from washington city, and located upon potomac creek. it is a wharf and warehouse merely, and here the steamer john s. ide stopped and made fast, while the party galloped off in the darkness. conger and baker kept ahead, riding up to farm-houses and questioning the inmates, pretending to be in search of the maryland gentlemen belonging to the party. but nobody had seen the parties described, and, after a futile ride on the fredericksburg road, they turned shortly to the east, and kept up their baffled inquiries all the way to port conway, on the rappahannock. on tuesday morning they presented themselves at the port royal ferry, and inquired of the ferry-man, while he was taking them over in squads of seven at a time, if he had seen any two such men. continuing their inquiries at port royal, they found one rollins a fisherman, who referred them to a negro named lucas, as having driven two men a short distance toward bowling green in a wagon. it was found that these men answered to the description, booth having a crutch as previously ascertained. the day before booth and harold had applied at port conway for the general ferry-boat, but the ferryman was then fishing and would not desist for the inconsiderable fare of only two persons, but to their supposed good fortune a lot of confederate cavalrymen just then came along, who threatened the ferryman with a shot in the head if he did not instantly bring across his craft and transport the entire party. these cavalrymen were of moseby's disbanded command, returning from fairfax court house to their homes in caroline county. their captain was on his way to visit a sweetheart at bowling green, and he had so far taken booth under his patronage, that when the latter was haggling with lucas for a team, he offered both booth and harold the use of his horse, to ride and walk alternately. in this way lucas was providentially done out of the job, and booth rode off toward bowling green behind the confederate captain on one and the same horse. so much learned, the detectives, with rollins for a guide, dashed off in the bright daylight of tuesday, moving southwestward through the level plains of caroline, seldom stopping to ask questions, save at a certain halfway house, where a woman told them that the cavalry party of yesterday had returned minus one man. as this was far from circumstantial, the party rode along in the twilight, and reached bowling green at eleven o'clock in the night. this is the court-house town of caroline county--a small and scattered place, having within it an ancient tavern, no longer used for other than lodging purposes; but here they hauled from his bed the captain aforesaid, and bade him dress himself. as soon as he comprehended the matter he became pallid and eagerly narrated all the facts in his possession. booth, to his knowledge, was then lying at the house of one garrett, which they had passed, and harold had departed the existing day with the intention of rejoining him. taking this captain along for a guide, the worn out horsemen retraced, though some of the men were so haggard and wasted with travel that they had to be kicked into intelligence before they could climb to their saddles. the objects of the chase thus at hand, the detectives, full of sanguine purpose; hurried the cortege so well along that by 2 o'clock early morning, all halted at garrett's gate. in the pale moonlight three hundred yards from the main road, to the left, a plain old farmhouse looked grayly through its environing locusts. it was worn and whitewashed, and two-storied, and its half-human windows glowered down upon the silent cavalrymen like watching owls, which stood as sentries over some horrible secret asleep within. the front of this house looked up the road toward the rappahannock, but did not face it, and on that side a long virginia porch protruded, where, in the summer, among the honeysuckles, the humming bird flew like a visible odor. nearest the main road, against the pallid gable, a single-storied kitchen stood, and there were three other doors, one opening upon the porch, one in the kitchen gable, and one in the rear of the farmhouse. dimly seen behind, an old barn, high and weather-beaten, faced the roadside gate, for the house itself lay to the left of its own lane; and nestling beneath the barn, a few long corn-cribs lay with a cattle shed at hand. there was not a swell of the landscape anywhere in sight. a plain dead level contained all the tenements and structures. a worm fence stretched along the road broken by two battered gate posts, and between the road and the house, the lane was crossed by a second fence and gate. the farm-house lane, passing the house front, kept straight on to the barn, though a second carriage track ran up to the porch. [illustration: plan of garrett's house. _a_ door through which the dying man was brought. _b_ corner at which the barn was fired. _c_ spot in the barn on which booth stood. _d_ point where corbett fired. _e_ porch where booth died. _g_ door at which lieutenant baker knocked. _h_ shed. _i_ kitchen.] it was a homely and primitive scene enough, pastoral as any farm boy's birth-place, and had been the seat of many toils and endearments. young wives had been brought to it, and around its hearth the earliest cries of infants, gladdening mothers' hearts, had made the household jubilant till the stars came out, and were its only sentries, save the bright lights at its window-panes as of a camp-fire, and the suppressed chorusses of the domestic bivouac within, where apple toasting and nut cracking and country games shortened the winter shadows. yet in this house, so peaceful by moonlight, murder had washed its spotted hands, and ministered to its satiated appetite. history--present in every nook in the broad young world--had stopped, to make a landmark of garrett's farm. in the dead stillness, baker dismounted and forced the outer gate; conger kept close behind him, and the horsemen followed cautiously. they made no noise in the soft clay, nor broke the all-foreboding silence anywhere, till the second gate swung open gratingly, yet even then nor hoarse nor shrill response came back, save distant croaking, as of frogs or owls, or the whizz of some passing night-hawk. so they surrounded the pleasant old homestead, each horseman, carbine in poise, adjusted under the grove of locusts, so as to inclose the dwelling with a circle of fire. after a pause, baker rode to the kitchen door on the side, and dismounting, rapped and halloed lustily. an old man, in drawers and night-shirt, hastily undrew the bolts, and stood on the threshold, peering shiveringly into the darkness. baker seized him by the throat at once, and held a pistol to his ear. "who--who is it that calls me?" cried the old man. "where are the men who stay with you?" challenged baker. "if you prevaricate you are a dead man!" the old fellow, who proved to be the head of the family, was so overawed and paralysed that he stammered, and shook, and said not a word. "go light a candle," cried baker, sternly, "and be quick about it." the trembling old man obeyed, and in a moment the imperfect rays flared upon his whitening hairs and bluishly pallid face. then the question was repeated, backed up by the glimmering pistol, "where are those men?" the old man held to the wall, and his knees smote each other. "they are gone," he said. "we hav'n't got them in the house, i assure you that they are gone." here there were sounds and whisperings in the main building adjoining, and the lieutenant strode to the door. a ludicrous instant intervened, the old man's modesty outran his terror. "don't go in there," he said, feebly; "there are women undressed in there." "damn the women," cried baker; "what if they are undressed? we shall go in if they haven't a rag." leaving the old man in mute astonishment, baker bolted through the door, and stood in an assemblage of bare arms and night robes. his loaded pistol disarmed modesty of its delicacy and substituted therefor a seasonable terror. here he repeated his summons, and the half light of the candle gave to his face a more than bandit ferocity. they all denied knowledge of the strangers' whereabouts. in the interim conger had also entered, and while the household and its invaders were thus in weird tableaux, a young man appeared, as if he had risen from the ground. the muzzles of everybody turned upon him in a second; but, while he blanched, he did not lose loquacity. "father," he said, "we had better tell the truth about the matter. those men whom you seek, gentlemen, are in the barn, i know. they went there to sleep." leaving one soldier to guard the old man--and the soldier was very glad of the job, as it relieved him of personal hazard in the approaching combat--all the rest, with cocked pistols at the young man's head, followed on to the barn. it lay a hundred yards from the house, the front barndoor facing the west gable, and was an old and spacious structure, with floors only a trifle above the ground level. the troops dismounted, were stationed at regular intervals around it, and ten yards distant at every point, four special guards placed to command the door and all with weapons in supple preparation, while baker and conger went direct to the portal. it had a padlock upon it, and the key of this baker secured at once. in the interval of silence that ensued, the rustling of planks and straw was heard inside, as of persons rising from sleep. at the same moment baker hailed: "to the persons in this barn. i have a proposal to make; we are about to send in to you the son of the man in whose custody you are found. either surrender to him your arms and then give yourselves up, or we'll set fire to the place. we mean to take you both, or to have a bonfire and a shooting match." no answer came to this of any kind. the lad, john m. garrett, who was in deadly fear, was here pushed through the door by a sudden opening of it, and immediately lieutenant baker locked the door on the outside. the boy was heard to state his appeal in under tone. booth replied: "damn you. get out of here. you have betrayed me." at the same time he placed his hand in his pocket as for a pistol. a remonstrance followed, but the boy slipped quickly over the reopened portal, reporting that his errand had failed, and that he dared not enter again. all this time the candle brought from the house to the barn was burning close beside the two detectives, rendering it easy for any one within to have shot them dead. this observed, the light was cautiously removed, and everybody took care to keep out of its reflection. by this time the crisis of the position was at hand, the cavalry exhibited very variable inclinations, some to run away, others to shoot booth without a summons, but all excited and fitfully silent. at the house near by the female folks were seen collected in the doorway, and the necessities of the case provoked prompt conclusions. the boy was placed at a remote point, and the summons repeated by baker: "you must surrender inside there. give up your arms and appear. there is no chance for escape. we give you five minutes to make up your mind." a bold, clarion reply came from within, so strong as to be heard at the house door: "who are you, and what do you want with us?" baker again urged: "we want you to deliver up your arms and become our prisoners." "but who are you?" hallooed the same strong voice. baker.--"that makes no difference. we know who you are, and we want you. we have here fifty men, armed with carbines and pistols. you cannot escape." there was a long pause, and then booth said: "captain, this is a hard case, i swear. perhaps i am being taken by my own friends." no reply from the detectives. booth--"well, give us a little time to consider." [illustration: garrett's house, where booth died--sketched by w. n. walton, for "harper's weekly" for may 30th, 1865] baker--"very well. take time." here ensued a long and eventful pause. what thronging memories it brought to booth, we can only guess. in this little interval he made the resolve to die. but he was cool and steady to the end. baker, after a lapse, hailed for the last time. "well, we have waited long enough; surrender your arms and come out, or we'll fire the barn." booth answered thus: "i am but a cripple, a one-legged man. withdraw your forces one hundred yard from the door, and i will come. give me a chance for my life, captain. i will never be taken alive." baker--"we did not come here to fight, but to capture you. i say again, appear, or the barn shall be fired." then with a long breath, which could be heard outside, booth cried in sudden calmness, still invisible, as were to him his enemies: "well, then, my brave boys, prepare a stretcher for me." there was a pause repeated, broken by low discussions within between booth and his associate, the former saying, as if in answer to some remonstrance or appeal, "get away from me. you are a damned coward, and mean to leave me in my distress; but go, go. i don't want you to stay. i won't have _you_ stay." then he shouted aloud: "there's a man inside who wants to surrender." baker--"let him come, if he will bring his arms." here harold, rattling at the door, said: "let me out; open the door; i want to surrender." baker--"hand out your arms, then." harold--"i have not got any." baker--"you are the man that carried the carbine yesterday; bring it out." harold--"i haven't got any." this was said in a whining tone, and with an almost visible shiver. booth cried aloud, at this hesitation: "he hasn't got any arms; they are mine, and i have kept them." baker--"well, he carried the carbine, and must bring it out." booth--"on the word and honor of a gentleman, he has no arms with him. they are mine, and i have got them." at this time harold was quite up to the door, within whispering distance of baker. the latter told him to put out his hands to be handcuffed, at the same time drawing open the door a little distance. harold thrust forth his hands, when baker, seizing him, jerked him into the night, and straightway delivered him over to a deputation of cavalrymen. the fellow began to talk of his innocence and plead so noisily that conger threatened to gag him unless he ceased. then booth made his last appeal, in the same clear unbroken voice: "captain, give me a chance. draw off your men and i will fight them singly. i could have killed you six times to-night, but i believe you to be a brave man, and would not murder you. give a lame man a show." it was too late for parley. all this time booth's voice had sounded from the middle of the barn. ere he ceased speaking, colonel conger, slipping around to the rear, drew some loose straws through a crack, and lit a match upon them. they were dry and blazed up in an instant, carrying a sheet of smoke and flame through the parted planks, and heaving in a twinkling a world of light and heat upon the magazine within. the blaze lit up the black recesses of the great barn till every wasp's nest and cobweb in the roof was luminous, flinging streaks of red and violet across the tumbled farm gear in the corner, plows, harrows, hoes, rakes, sugar mills, and making every separate grain in the high bin adjacent, gleam like a mote of precious gold. they tinged the beams, the upright columns, the barricades, where clover and timothy, piled high, held toward the hot incendiary their separate straws for the funeral pile. they bathed the murderer's retreat in beautiful illumination, and while in bold outline his figure stood revealed, they rose like an impenetrable wall to guard from sight the hated enemy who lit them. behind the blaze, with his eye to a crack, conger saw wilkes booth standing upright upon a crutch. he likens him at this instant to his brother edwin, whom he says he so much resembled that he half believed, for the moment the whole pursuit to have been a mistake. at the gleam of the fire wilkes dropped his crutch, and, carbine in both hands, crept up to the spot to espy the incendiary and shoot him dead. his eyes were lustrous like fever, and swelled and rolled in terrible beauty, while his teeth were fixed, and he wore the expression of one in the calmness before frenzy. in vain he peered with vengeance in his look; the blaze that made him visible concealed his enemy. a second he turned glaring at the fire, as if to leap upon it and extinguish it, but it had made such headway that this was a futile impulse and he dismissed it. as calmly as upon the battlefield a veteran stands amidst the hail of ball and shell, and plunging iron, booth turned at a man's stride, and pushed for the door, carbine in poise, and the last resolve of death, which we name despair, set on his high, bloodless forehead. as so he dashed, intent to expire not unaccompanied, a disobedient sergeant at an eye-hole drew upon him the fatal bead. the barn was all glorious with conflagration and in the beautiful ruin this outlawed man strode like all that, we know of wicked valor, stern in the face of death. a shock, a shout, a gathering up of his splendid figure as if to overtip the stature god gave him, and john wilkes booth fell headlong to the floor, lying there in a heap, a little life remaining. "he has shot himself!" cried baker, unaware of the source of the report, and rushing in, he grasped his arms to guard against any feint or strategy. a moment convinced him that further struggle with the prone flesh was useless. booth did not move, nor breathe, nor gasp. conger and two sergeants now entered, and taking up the body, they bore it in haste from the advancing flame, and laid it without upon the grass, all fresh with heavenly dew. "water," cried conger, "bring water." when this was dashed into his face, he revived a moment and stirred his lips. baker put his ear close down, and heard him say: "tell mother--and die--for my country." they lifted him again, the fire encroaching in hotness upon them and placed him on the porch before the dwelling. a mattrass was brought down, on which they placed him and propped his head, and gave him water and brandy. the women of the household, joined meantime by another son, who had been found in one of the corn cribs, watching as he said, to see that booth and harold did not steal the horses, were nervous, but prompt to do the dying man all kindnesses, although waived sternly back by the detectives. they dipped a rag in brandy and water, and this being put between booth's teeth he sucked it greedily. when he was able to articulate again, he muttered to mr. baker the same words, with an addenda. "tell mother i died for my country. i thought i did for the best." baker repeated this, saying at the same time "booth, do i repeat it correctly." booth nodded his head. by this time the grayness of dawn was approaching; moving figures inquisitively coming near were to be seen distinctly, and the cocks began to crow gutturally, though the barn was a hulk of blaze and ashes, sending toward the zenith a spiral line of dense smoke. the women became importunate that the troops might be ordered to extinguish the fire, which was spreading toward their precious corn-cribs. not even death could banish the call of interest. soldiers were sent to put out the fire, and booth, relieved of the bustle around him, drew near to death apace. twice he was heard to say, "kill me, kill me." his lips often moved but could complete no appreciable sound. he made once a motion which the quick eye of conger understood to mean that his throat pained him. conger put his finger there, when the dying man attempted to cough, but only caused the blood at his perforated neck to flow more, lively. he bled very little, although shot quite through, beneath and behind the ears, his collar being severed on both sides. a soldier had been meanwhile despatched for a doctor, but the route and return were quite six miles, and the sinner was sinking fast. still the women made efforts to get to see him, but were always rebuffed, and all the brandy they could find was demanded by the assassin, who motioned for strong drink every two minutes. he made frequent desires to be turned over, not by speech, but by gesture, and was alternately placed upon his back, belly and side. his tremendous vitality evidenced itself almost miraculously. now and then, his heart would cease to throb, and his pulses would be as cold as a dead man's. directly life would begin anew, the face would flush up effulgently, the eyes open and brighten, and soon relapsing, stillness re-asserted, would again be dispossessed by the same magnificent triumph of man over mortality. finally the fussy little doctor arrived, in time to be useless. he probed the wound to see if the ball were not in it, and shook his head sagely, and talked learnedly. just at his coming booth had asked to have his hands raised and shown him. they were so paralyzed that he did not know their location. when they were displayed he muttered, with a sad lethargy, "useless, useless." these were the last words he ever uttered. as he began to die the sun rose and threw beams into all the tree-tops. it was of a man's height when the struggle of death twitched and fingered in the fading bravo's face. his jaw drew spasmodically and obliquely downward; his eyeballs rolled to-ward his feet, and began to swell; lividness, like a horrible shadow, fastened upon him, and, with a sort of gurgle and sudden check, he stretched his feet and threw his head back and gave up the ghost. they sewed him up in a saddle blanket. this was his shroud; too like a soldier's. harold, meantime, had been tied to a tree, but was now released for the march. colonel conger pushed on immediately for washington; the cortege was to follow. booth's only arms were his carbine knife, and two revolvers. they found about him bills of exchange, canada money, and a diary. a venerable old negro living in the vicinity had the misfortune to possess a horse. this horse was a relic of former generations, and showed by his protruding ribs the general leanness of the land. he moved in an eccentric amble, and when put upon his speed was generally run backward. to this old negro's horse was harnessed a very shaky and absurd wagon, which rattled like approaching dissolution, and each part of it ran without any connection or correspondence with any other part. it had no tail-board, and its shafts were sharp as famine; and into this mimicry of a vehicle the murderer was to be sent to the potomac river, while the man he had murdered was moving in state across the mourning continent. the old negro geared up his wagon by means of a set of fossil harness, and when it was backed to garrett's porch, they laid within it the discolored corpse. the corpse was tied with ropes around the legs and made fast to the wagon sides. harold's legs were tied to stirrups, and he was placed in the centre of four murderous looking cavalrymen. the two sons of garrett were also taken along, despite the sobs and petitions of the old folks and women, but the rebel captain who had given booth a lift, got off amidst the night's agitations, and was not rearrested. so moved the cavalcade of retribution, with death in its midst, along the road to port royal. when the wagon started, booth's wound till now scarcely dribbling, began to run anew. it fell through the crack of the wagon, dripping upon the axle, and spotting the road with terrible wafers. it stained the planks, and soaked the blankets; and the old negro, at a stoppage, dabbled his hands in it by mistake; he drew back instantly, with a shudder and stifled expletive, "gor-r-r, dat'll never come off in de world; it's murderer's blood." he wrung his hands, and looked imploringly at the officers, and shuddered again: "gor-r-r, i wouldn't have dat on me fur tousand, tousand dollars." the progress of the team was slow, with frequent danger of shipwreck altogether, but toward noon the cortege filed through port royal, where the citizens came out to ask the matter, and why a man's body, covered with sombre blankets, was going by with so great escort. they were told that it was a wounded confederate, and so held their tongues. the little ferry, again in requisition, took them over by squads, and they pushed from port conway to bell plain, which they reached in the middle of the afternoon. all the way the blood dribbled from the corpse in a slow, incessant, sanguine exudation. the old negro was niggardly dismissed with two paper dollars. the dead man untied and cast upon the vessel's dock, steam gotten up in a little while, and the broad potomac shores saw this skeleton ship flit by, as the bloody sun threw gashes and blots of unhealthy light along the silver surface. all the way associate with the carcass, went harold, shuddering in so grim companionship, and in the awakened fears of his own approaching. ordeal, beyond which it loomed already, the gossamer fabric of a scaffold. he tried to talk for his own exoneration, saying he had ridden, as was his wont, beyond the east branch, and returning, found booth wounded, who begged him to be his companion. of his crime he knew nothing, so help him god, &c. but nobody listened to him. all interest of crime, courage, and retribution centered in the dead flesh at his feet. at washington, high and low turned out to look on booth. only a few were permitted to see his corpse for purposes of recognition. it was fairly preserved, though on one side of the face distorted, and looking blue like death, and wildly bandit-like, as if beaten by avenging winds. yesterday the secretary of war, without instructions of any kind, committed to colonel lafayette c. baker, of the secret service, the stark corpse of j. wilkes booth. the secret service never fulfilled its volition more secretively. "what have you done with the body?" said i to baker. "that is known" he answered, "to only one man living besides myself. it is gone. i will not tell you where. the only man who knows is sworn to silence. never till the great trumpeter comes shall the grave of booth be discovered." and this is true. last night, the 27th of april, a small row boat received the carcass of the murderer; two men were in it they carried the body off into the darkness, and out of that darkness it will never return. in the darkness, like his great crime, may it remain forever, impalpable, invisible, nondescript, condemned to that worse than damnation,--annihilation. the river-bottom may ooze about it laden with great shot and drowning manacles. the earth may have opened to give it that silence and forgiveness which man will never give its memory. the fishes may swim around it, or the daisies grow white above it; but we shall never know. mysterious, incomprehensible, unattainable, like the dim times through which we live and think upon as if we only dreamed them in perturbed fever, the assassin of a nation's head rests somewhere in the elements, and that is all; but if the indignant seas or the profaned turf shall ever vomit his corpse from their recesses, and it receive humane or christian burial from some who do not recognize it, let the last words those decaying lips ever uttered be carved above them with a dagger, to tell the history of a young and once promising life--useless! useless! letter v. a solution of the conspiracy. [the annexed letter, which has been cavilled at, as much as copied, is a rationale of the conspiracy, combined from the government's own officers. when it was written it was believed to be true: the evidence at the trial has confirmed much of it: i reprint it to show how men's ingenuities were at work to account for the conception and progress of the plot.] washington, may 2. justice and fame are equally and simultaneously satisfied. the president is not yet in his sarcophagus, but all the conspirators against his life, with a minor exception or two, are in their prison cells waiting for the halter. the dark and bloody plot against a good ruler's life is now so fully unraveled that i may make it plain to you. there is nothing to be gained by further waiting; the trials are proceeding; the evidence is mountain high. within a week the national scaffold will have done its work, and be laid away forever. this prompt and necessary justice will signal the last public assassination in america. borgia, and medici, and brinvilliers, have left no descendants on this side of the world. the conspiracy was both the greatest and the smallest of our cycle. narrowed in execution to a few, it was understood and connived at by a multitude. one man was its head and heart; its accessories were so numerous that the trouble is not whom to suspect, but whom not accuse. damning as the result must be to the character of our race, it must be admitted, in the light of facts, that americans are as secretive and as skillful plotters as any people in the world. the rye house plot, never fully understood; the many schemes of mazzini, never fastened upon him sufficiently well for implication, yield in extent, darkness and intricacy, to the republican plot against the president's life and those of his counselors. the police operations prove that the late murder as not a spasmodic and fitful crime, but long premeditated, and carried to consummation with as much cohesion and resolution as the murder of allessandro de medici or henri quatre. i have been accused of cannonizing booth. much as i denounce and deprecate his crime--holding him to be worthy of all execration, and so seeped in blood that the excuses of a century will fail to lift him out of the atmosphere of common felons--i still, at every new developement, stand farther back in surprise and terror at the wonderful resources and extraordinary influence of one whom i had learned to consider a mere thespian, full of sound, fury, and assertion. strange and anomalous as the facts may seem, john wilkes booth was the sole projector of the plot against the president which culminated in the taking of that good man's life. he had rolled under his tongue the sweet paragraphs of shakspeare refering to brutus, as had his father so well, that the old man named one son junius brutus, and the other john wilkes, after the wild english agitator, until it became his ambition, like the wicked lorenzino de medici, to stake his life upon one stroke for fame, the murder of a ruler obnoxious to the south. that wilkes booth was a southern man from the first may be accounted for upon grounds, of interest as well as of sympathy. it is insidious to find no higher incentive than appreciation, but on the stage this is the first and last motive; and as edwin booth made his success in the north and remained steadfast, wilkes booth was most truly applauded in the south, and became rebel. a false emotion of gratitude, as well as an impulse of mingled waywardness and gratitude, set john wilkes's face from the first toward the north, and he burned to make his name a part of history, cried into fame by the applauses of the south. he hung to his bloody suggestion with dogged inflexibility, maintaining only one axiom above all the rest--that whatever minor parts might be enacted--casca, cassius, or what not--he was to be the dramatic brutus, excepting that assassin's negativeness. in other words, the idea was to be his own, as well us the crowning blow. booth shrank at first from murder, until another and less dangerous resolution failed. this was no less than the capture of the president's body, and its detention or transportation to the south. i do not rely on this assertion upon his sealed letter, where he avows it; there has been found upon a street within the city limits, a house belonging to one mrs. greene; mined and furnished with underground apartments, manacles and all the accessories to private imprisonment. here the president, and as many as could be gagged and conveyed away with him, were to be concealed in the event of failure to run them into the confederacy. owing to his failure to group around him as many men as he desired, booth abandoned the project of kidnapping; but the house was discovered last week, as represented, ready to be blown up at a moment's notice. it was at this time that booth devised his triumphant route through the south. the dramatic element seems to have been never lacking in his design, and with all his base purposes he never failed to consider some subsequent notoriety to be enjoyed. he therefore shipped, before the end of 1864, his theatrical wardrobe from canada to nassau. after the commission of his crime he intended to reclaim it, and "star" through the south, drawing money as much by his crime as his abilities. when booth began "on his own responsibility," to hunt for accomplices, he found his theory at fault. the bold men he had dreamed of refused to join him in the rash attempt at kidnapping the president, and were too conscientious to meditate murder. all those who presented themselves were military men, unwilling to be subordinate to a civilian, and a mere play-actor, and the mortified bravo found himself therefore compelled to sink to a petty rank in the plot, or to make use of base and despicable assistants. his vanity found it easier to compound with the second alternative than the first. here began the first resolve, which, in its mere animal estate, we may name courage. booth found that a tragedy in real life could no more be enacted without greasy-faced and knock-kneed supernumeraries than upon the mimic stage. your "first citizen," who swings a stave for marc antony, and drinks hard porter behind the flies is very like the bravo of real life, who murders between his cocktails at the nearest bar. wilkes booth had passed the ordeal of a garlicky green-room, and did not shrink from the broader and ranker green-room of real life. he assembled around him, one by one, the cut-throats at whom his soul would have revolted, except that he had become, by resolve, a cut-throat in himself. about this time certain gentlemen in canada began to be unenviably known. i abstain from giving their names, because unaware of how far they seconded this crime, if at all. but they seconded as infamous things, such as cowardly raids from neutral territory into the states, bank robbings, lake pirating, city burning, counterfeiting, railway sundering, and the importation of yellow fever into peaceful and unoffending communities. i make no charges against those whom i do not know, but simply say that the confederate agents, jacob tompson, larry mcdonald, clement clay, and some others, had already accomplished enough villainy to make wilkes booth, on the first of the present year, believe that he had but to seek an interview with them. he visited the provinces once certainly, and three times it is believed, stopping in montreal at st. lawrence hall, and banking four hundred and fifty-five dollars odd at the ontario bank. this was his own money. i have myself seen his bank-book with the single entry of this amount. it was found in the room of atzerott, at kirkwood's hotel. from this visit, whatever encouragement booth received, he continued in systematic correspondence with one or more of those agents down to the commission of his crime. i dare not say how far each of these agents was implicated. my personal conviction is that they were neither loth to the murder nor astonished when it had been done. they had money with discretion from the confederacy, though acting at discretion and outside of responsibility, and always, at every wild adventure, they instructed their dupes that each man took his life in his hand on every incursion into the north. so beale took his, raiding on the great lakes. so kennedy took his, on a midnight bonfire-tramp into the metropolis. so took the st. albans raiders their lives in their palms, dashing into a peaceful town. and if these agents entertained wilkes booth's suggestion at all they plainly told him that he carried his life in his dagger's edge, and could expect from them neither aid nor exculpation. some one or all of these agents furnished booth with a murderer. the fellow wood or payne, who stabbed mr. seward and was caught at mrs. surratt's house in washington. he was one of three kentucky brothers, all outlaws, and had himself, it is believed, accompanied one of his brothers, who is known to have been at st. albans on the day of the bank-delivery. this payne, besides being positively identified as the assassin of the sewards, had no friends nor haunts in washington. he was simply a dispatched murderer, and after the night of the crime, struck northward of the frontier, instead of southward in the company of booth. the proof, of this will follow in the course of the article. while i assert that the canadian agents knew booth and patted his back, calling him, like macbeth, the "prince of cut-throats," i am equally certain that booth's project was unknown in richmond. no word, nor written line, no clue of any sort has been found attaching booth to the confederate authorities. the most that can be urged to meet preposterous claims of this sort is, that out of the rebellion grew the murder; which is like attributing the measles to the creation of man. but mcdonald and his party had money at discretion, and under their control the vilest fellows on the continent. their personal influence over those errant ones amounted to omnipotence. most of the latter were young and sanguine people, like beale and booth; their plots were made up at st. catharine's, toronto, and montreal, and they have maintained since the war began, rebel mail routes between canada and richmond, leading directly passed washington. if booth received no positive instructions, he was at any rate adjudged a man likely to be of use, and therefore introduced to the rebel agencies in and around washington. doubtless by direct letter, or verbal instruction, he received a password to the house of mrs. surratt. half applauded, half rebuffed by the rebel agents in canada, booth's impressions of his visit were just those which would whet him soonest for the tragedy. his vanity had been fed by the assurance that success depended upon himself alone, and that as he had the responsibility he would absorb the fame; and the method of correspondence was of that dark and mysterious shape which powerfully operated upon his dramatic temperament. what could please an actor, and the son of an actor, better than to mingle as a principal in a real conspiracy, the aims of which were pseudo-patriotic, and the end so astounding that at its coming the whole globe would reel. booth reasoned that the ancient world would not feel more sensitively the death of julius cã¦sar than the new the sudden taking off of abraham lincoln. and so he grew into the idea of murder. it became his business thought. it was his recreation and his study. he had not worked half so hard for histrionic success as for his terrible graduation into an assassin. he had fought often on the boards, and seen men die in well-imitated horror, with flowing blood upon his keen sword's edge, and the strong stride of mimic victory with which he flourished his weapon at the closing of the curtain. he embraced conspiracy like an old diplomatist, and found in the woman and the spot subjects for emulation. southeast of washington stretches a tapering peninsula, composed of four fertile counties, which at the remote tip make point lookout, and do not contain any town within them of more than a few hundred inhabitants. tobacco has ruined the land of these, and slavery has ruined the people. yet in the beginning they were of that splendid stock of calvert and lord baltimore, but retain to-day only the religion of the peaceful founder. i mention it is an exceptional and remarkable fact, that every conspirator in custody is by education a catholic. these are our most loyal citizens elsewhere, but the western shore of maryland is a noxious and pestilential place for patriotism. the county immediately outside of the district of columbia, to the south, is named prince gorgia's and the pleasantest village of this county, close to washington, is called surrattsville. this consists of a few cabins at a cross-road, surrounding a fine old hotel, the master whereof, giving the settlement his name, left the property to his wife, who for a long time carried it on with indifferent success. having a son and several daughters, she moved to washington soon after the beginning of the war and let the tavern to a trusty friend--one john lloyd. surrattsville has gained nothing in patronage or business from the war, except that it became at an early date, a rebel postoffice. the great secret mail from matthias creek, virginia, to port tobacco, struck surrattsville, and thence headed off to the east to washington, going meanderingly north. of this poet route mrs. surratt was a manageress; and john lloyd, when he rented her hotel, assumed the responsibility of looking out for the mail, as well the duty of making mrs. surratt at home when she chose to visit him. so surrattsville only ten miles from washington, has been throughout the war a sect of conspiracy. it was like a suburb of richmond, reaching quite up to the rival capital; and though the few unionists on the peninsula knew its reputation well enough, nothing of the sort came out until the murder. treason never found a better agent than mrs. surratt. she is a large, masculine, self-possessed female, mistress of her house, and as lithe a rebel as belle boyd or mrs. greenhough. she has not the flippantry and menace of the first, nor the social power of the second; but the rebellion has found no fitter agent. at her country tavern and washington home booth was made welcome, and there began the muttered murder against the nation and mankind. the acquaintance of mrs. surratt in lower maryland undoubtedly suggested to booth the route of escape, and made him known to his subsequent accomplices. last fall he visited the entire region, as far as leonardstown, in st. mary's county, professing to be in search of land but really hunting up confederates upon whom he could depend. at this time he bought a map, a fellow to which i have seen among atzerott's effects, published at buffalo for the rebel government, and marking at hap-hazard all the maryland villages, but without tracing the highroads at all. the absence of these roads, it will be seen hereafter, very nearly misled booth during his crippled flight. it could not but have struck booth that this isolated part of maryland ignorant and rebel to the brim, without telegraph or railways, or direct stage routes, belted with swamps and broken by dense timber, afforded extraordinary opportunities for shelter and escape. only the coast survey had any adequate map of it; it was _ultima thule_ to all intents, and treason might subsist in welcome upon it for a thousand years. when booth cast around him for assistance, he naturally selected those men whom he could control. the first that recommended himself was one harold, a youth of inane and plastic character, carried away by the example of an actor, and full of execrable quotations, going to show that he was an imitator of the master spirit both in text and admiration. this harold was a gunner, and therefore versed in arms; he had traversed the whole lower portion of maryland, and was therefore a geographer as well as a tool. his friends lived at every farmhouse between washington and leonardsville, and he was respectably enough connected, so as to make his association creditable as well as useful. harold, whose picture i have seen, is a dull-faced, shallow boy, smooth-haired, and provincial; he had no money nor employment, except that he clerked for a druggist a while, until he knew wilkes booth, who looked at him only once, and bought his soul for a smile. harold was infatuated by booth as a woman by a soldier. he copied his gait and tone, adopted his opinions, and was unhappy out of his society. booth gave him money, mysteriously obtained, and together they made the acquaintance of young john surratt, son of the conspiratress. young surratt does not appear to have been a puissant spirit in the scheme; indeed, all design and influence therein was absorbed by mrs. surratt and booth. the latter was the head and heart of the plot; mrs. surratt was his anchor, and the rest of the boys were disciples to iscariot and jezebel. john surratt, a youth of strong southern physiognomy, beardless and lanky, knew of the murder and connived at it. "sam" arnold and one mclaughlin were to have been parties to it, but backed out in the end. they all relied upon mrs. surratt, and took their "cues" from wilkes booth. the conspiracy had its own time and kept its own counsel. murder except among the principals, was seldom mentioned except by genteel implication. but they all publicly agreed that mr. lincoln ought to be shot, and that the north was a race of fratricides. much was said of brutus, and booth repeated heroic passages to the delight of harold, who learned them also, and wondered if he was not born to greatness. in this growing darkness, where all rehearsed cold-hearted murder, wilkes booth grew great of stature. he had found a purpose consonant with his evil nature and bad influence over weak men; so he grew moodier, more vigilant, more plausible. by mien and temperament he was born to handle a stiletto. we have no face so markedly italian; it would stand for caesar borgia any day in the year. all the rest were swayed or persuaded by booth; his schemes were three in order: 1st. to kidnap the president and cabinet, and run them south or blow them up. 2d. kidnapping failed, to murder the president and the rest and seek shelter in the confederate capital. 3d. the rebellion failed, to be its avenger, and throw the country into consternation, while he escaped by the unfrequented parts of maryland. when this last resolution had been made, the plot was both contracted and extended. there were made two distinct circles of confidants--those aware of the meditated murder, and those who might shrink from murder, though willing accessories for a lesser object. two colleagues for blood were at once accepted--payne and atzerott. the former i have sketched; he is believed to have visited washington once before, at booth's citation; for the murder was at first fixed for the day of inauguration. atzerott was a fellow of german descent, who had led a desperate life at port tobacco, where he was a house-painter. he had been a blockade-runner across the potomac, and a mail-carrier. when booth and mrs. surratt broke the design to him, with a suggestion that there was wealth in it, he embraced the offer at once, and bought a dirk and pistol. payne also came from the north to washington, and, as fate would have it, the president was announced to appear at ford's theater in public. there the resolve of blood was reduced to a definite moment. on the night before the crime booth found on whom he could rely. john surratt was sent northward by his mother on thursday. sam arnold and mclaughlin, each of whom was to kill a cabinet officer, grew pigeon-livered and ran away. harold true to his partiality, lingered around booth to the end; atzerott went so far as to take his knife and pistol to kirkwood's, where president johnson was stopping, and hid them under the bed. but either his courage failed, or a trifling accident deranged his plan. but payne, a professional murderer, stood "game," and fought his way over prostrate figures to his sick victim's bed. there was great confusion and terror among the tacit and rash conspirators on thursday night. they had looked upon the plot as of a melodrama, and found to their horror that john wilkes booth meant to do murder. six weeks before the murder, young john surratt had taken two splendid repeating carbines to surrattville and told john lloyd to secret them. the latter made a hole in the wainscotting and suspended them from strings, so that they fell within the plastered wall of the room below. on the very afternoon of the murder, mrs. surratt was driven to surrattsville, and she told john lloyd to have the carbines ready because they would be called for that night. harold was made quartermaster, and hired the horses. he and atzerott were mounted between 8 o'clock and the time of the murder, and riding about the streets together. the whole party was prepared for a long ride, as their spurs and gauntlets show. it may have been their design to ride in company to the lower potomac, and by their numbers exact subsistence and transportation; but all edifices of murder lack a corner stone. we only know that booth ate and talked well during the day; that he never seemed so deeply involved in 'oil,' and that there is a hiatus between his supper here and his appearance at ford's theater. lloyd, i may interpolate, ordered his wife a few days before the murder to go on a visit to allen's fresh. she says she does not know why she was so sent away, but swears that it is so. harold, three weeks before the murder, visited port tobacco, and said that the next time the boys heard of him he would be in spain; he added that with spain there was no extradition treaty. he said at surrattsville that he meant to make a barrel of money, or his neck would stretch. atzerott said that if he ever came to port tobacco again he would be rich enough to buy the whole place. wilkes booth told a friend to go to ford's on friday night and see the best acting in the world. at ford's theater, on friday night, there were many standers in the neighborhood of the door, and along the dress circle in the direction of the private box where the president sat. the play went on pleasantly, though mr. wilkes booth an observer of the audience, visited the stage and took note of the positions. his alleged associate, the stage carpenter, then received quiet orders to clear the passage by the wings from the prompter's post to the stage door. all this time, mr. lincoln, in his family circle, unconscious of the death that crowded fast upon him, watched the pleasantry and smiled and felt heartful of gentleness. suddenly there was a murmur near the audience door, as of a man speaking above his bound. he said: "nine o'clock and forty-five minutes!" these words were reiterated from mouth to mouth until they passed the theater door, and were heard upon the sidewalk. directly a voice cried, in the same slightly-raised monotone: "nine o'clock and fifty minutes!" this also passed from man to man, until it touched the street like a shudder. "nine o'clock and fifty-five minutes!" said the same relentless voice, after the next interval, each of which narrowed to a lesser span the life of the good president. ten o'clock here sounded, and conspiring echo said in reverberation: "ten o'clock!" so like a creeping thing, from lip to lip, went: "ten o'clock and five minutes." (an interval.) "ten o'clock and ten minutes!" at this instant wilkes booth appeared in the door of the theater, and the men who had repeated the time so faithfully and so ominously scattered at his coming, as at some warning phantom. fifteen minutes afterwards the telegraph wires were cut. all this is so dramatic that i fear to excite a laugh when i write it. but it is true and proven, and i do not say it but report it. all evil deeds go wrong. while the click of the pistol, taking the president's life, went like a pang through the theater, payne was spilling blood in mr. seward's house from threshold to sick chamber. but booth's broken leg delayed him or made him lose his general calmness and he and harold left payne no to his fate. i have not adverted to the hole bored with a gimlet in the entry door of mr. lincoln's box, and cut out with a penknife. the theory that the pistol-ball of booth passed through this hole is exploded. and the stage carpenter may have to answer for this little orifice with all his neck. for when booth leaped from the box he strode straight across the stage by the footlights, reaching the prompter's post, which is immediately behind that private box opposite mr. lincoln. from this box to the stage door in the rear, the passage-way leads behind the ends of the scenes, and if generally either closest up by one or more withdrawn scenes, or so narrow that only by doubling and turning sidewise can one pass along. on this fearful night, however, the scenes were so adjusted to the murderer's design that he had a free aisle from the foot of the stage to the exit door. within fifteen minutes after the murder the wires were severed entirely around the city, excepting only a secret wire for government uses, which leads to old point. i am told that by this wire the government reached the fortifications around washington, first telegraphing all the way to old point, and then back to the outlying forts. this information comes to me from so many creditable channels that i must concede it. payne, having, as he thought, made an end of mr. seward--which would have been the case but for robinson, the nurse--mounted his horse, and attempted to find. booth. but the town was in alarm, and he galloped at once for the open country, taking as he imagined, the proper road for the east branch. he rode at a killing pace, and when near fort lincoln, on the baltimore pike, his horse threw him headlong. afoot and bewildered, he resolved to return to the city, whose lights he could plainly see; but before doing so ho concealed himself some time, and made some almost absurd efforts to disguise himself. cutting a cross section from the woolen undershirt which covered his muscular arm, he made a rude cap of it, and threw away his bloody coat. this has since been found in the woods, and blood has been found also on his bosom and sleeves. he also spattered himself plentifully with mud and clay, and, taking an abandoned pick from the deserted intrenchments near by, he struck at once for washington. by the providence which always attends murder, he reached mrs. surratt's door just as the officers of the government were arresting her. they seized payne at once, who had an awkward lie to urge in his defense--that he had come there to dig a trench. that night he dug a trench deep and broad enough for both of them to lie in forever. they washed his hands, and found them soft and womanish; his pockets contained tooth and nail brushes and a delicate pocket knife. all this apparel consorted ill with his assumed character. he is, without doubt, mr. seward's attempted murderer. coarse, and hard, and calm, mrs. surratt shut up her house after the murder, and waited with her daughters till the officers came. she was imperturbable, and rebuked her girls for weeping, and would have gone to jail like a statue, but that in her extremity, payne knocked at her door. he had come, he said, to dig a ditch for mrs. surratt, whom he very well knew. but mrs. surratt protested that she had ever seen the man at all, and had no ditch to clean. "how fortunate, girls," she said, "that these officers are here; this man might have murdered us all." her effrontery stamps her as worthy of companionship with booth. payne has been identified by a lodger of mrs. surratt's, as having twice visited the house under the name of wood. the girls will render valuable testimony in the trial. if john surratt were in custody the links would be complete. atzerott had a room almost directly over vice-president johnson's. he had all the materials to do murder, but lost spirit or opportunity. he ran away so hastily that all his arms and baggage were discovered; a tremendous bowie-knife and a colt's cavalry revolver were found between the mattresses of his bed. booth's coat was also found there, showing conspired flight in company, and in it three boxes of cartridges, a map of maryland, gauntlet for riding, a spur and a handkerchief marked with the name of booth's mother--a mother's souvenir for a murderer's pocket! atzerott fled alone, and was found at the house of his uncle in montgomery county. i do not know that any instrument of murder has ever made me thrill as when i drew this terrible bowie-knife from its sheath. major o'bierne, of new-york, was the instigator of atzerott's discovery and arrest. i come now to the ride out of the city by the chief assassin and his dupe. harold met booth immediately after the crime in the next street, and they rode at a gallop past the patent office and over capitol hill. as they crossed the eastern branch at uniontown, booth gave his proper name to the officer at the bridge. this, which would seem to have been foolish, was, in reality, very shrewd. the officers believed that one of booth's accomplices had given this name in order to put them out of the real booth's track. so they made efforts elsewhere, and so booth got a start. at midnight, precisely, the two horsemen stopped at surrattsville, booth remaining on his nag while harold descended and knocked lustily at the door. lloyd, the landlord, came down at once, when harold pushed past him into the bar, and obtained a bottle of whiskey, some of which he gave to booth immediately. while booth was drinking, harold went up stairs and brought down one of the carbines. lloyd started to get the other, but harold said: "we don't want it; booth has broken his leg and can't carry it." so the second carbine remained in the hall, where the officers afterward found it. as the two horsemen started to go off, booth cried out to lloyd: "do you want to hear some news?" "i don't care much about it," cried lloyd, by his own account. "we have murdered," said booth, "the president and secretary of state!" and with this horrible confession, booth and harold dashed away in the midnight, across prince george's county. on saturday, before sunrise, booth and harold, who had ridden all night without stopping elsewhere, reached the house of dr. mudd, three miles from bryantown. they contracted with him for twenty-five dollars in greenbacks to set the broken leg. harold, who knew dr. mudd, introduced booth under another name, and stated that he had fallen from his horse during the night. the doctor remarked of booth that he draped the lower part of his face while the leg was being set; he was silent, and in pain. having no splits in the house, they split up an old-fashioned wooden band-box and prepared them. the doctor was assisted by an englishman, who at the same time began to hew out a pair of crutches. the inferior bone of the left leg was broken vertically across, and because vertically it did not yield when the crippled man walked upon it. the riding boot of booth had to be cut from his foot; within were the words "j. wilkes." the doctor says he did not notice these, but that visual defect may cost him his neck. the two men waited around the house all day, but toward evening they slipped their horses from the stable and rode away in the direction of allen's fresh. below bryantown run certain deep and slimy swamps, along the belt of these booth and harold picked up a negro named swan, who volunteered to show them the road for two dollars; they gave him five more to show them the route to allen's fresh, but really wished, as their actions intimated, to gain the house of one sam. coxe, a notorious rebel, and probably well advised of the plot. they reached the house at midnight. it is a fine dwelling, one of the best in maryland. and after hallooing for some time, coxe came down to the door himself. as soon as he opened it and beheld who the strangers were, he instantly blew out a candle he held in his hand, and without a word pulled them into the house, the negro remaining in the yard. the confederates remained in coxe's house till 4 a. m., during which time, the negro saw them drink and eat heartily; but when they reappeared they spoke in a loud tone, so that swan could hear them, against the hospitality of coxe. all this was meant to influence the darkey; but their motives were as apparent as their words. he conducted them three miles further on, when they told him that now they knew the way, and giving him five dollars more--making twelve in all--told him to go back. but when the negro, in the dusk of the morning, looked after them as he receded, he saw that both horses' heads were turned once more toward coxe's, and it was this man, doubtless, who harbored the fugitives from sunday to thursday, aided, possibly, by such neighbors as the wilsons and adamses. at the point where booth crossed the potomac the shores are very shallow, and one must wade out some distance to where a boat will float. a white man came up here with a canoe on friday, and tied it by a stone anchor. between seven and eight o'clock it disappeared, and in the afternoon some men at work in virginia, saw booth and harold land, tie the boat's rope to a stone, and fling it ashore, and strike at once across a ploughed field for king george court house. many folks entertained them without doubt, but we positively hear of them next at port royal ferry, and then at garrett's farm. i close this article with a list of all who were at garrett's farm on the death of booth. 1. e. j. conger, \ detectives. 2. lieut. baker, / 3. surgeon from port royal, 4. four garrett daughters. 5. harold, booth's accomplice, _soldiers_.--company h, sixteenth new-york volunteer cavalry, lieutenant ed. p. doherty commanding: corporals a. neugarten, j. waly, m. hornsby: privates j. mellington, d. darker, e. parelays, w. mockgart; corporals--zimmer (co. c), m. taenaek; privates h. pardman, j. meiyers, w. burnn, f. meekdank, g. haich, j. raien, j. kelly, j. samger (co. m), g. zeichton,--steinbury, l. sweech (co. a), a. sweech (co. h), f. diacts; sergeant wandell; corporals lannekey, winacky; sergeant corbett (co. l). sergeant corbett, who shot booth, was the only man of the command belonging to the same company with lieutenant doherty, commandant. letter vi. the detectives' stories. washington, may 2--p. m. the police resources of the country have been fairly tested during the past two weeks. under the circumstances, the shrewdness and energy of both municipal and national detectives have been proven good. the latter body has had a too partial share of the applause thus far, while the great efforts of our new-york and other officers have been overlooked. in the crowning success of doherty, conger, and baker on the virginia side of the water we have forgotten the as vigorous and better sustained pursuit on the maryland side. yet the secretary of war has thanked all concerned, especially referring to many excellent leaders in the long hunt through charles and st. mary's counties. here the military and civil forces together amounted to quite a small army, and constituted by far the largest police organization ever known on this side of the atlantic. i think the adventures and expedients of these public servants worthy of a column. it would be out of all proportion to pass them by when we devote a dozen lines to every petty larceny and shoplifting. on the friday night of the murder the departments were absolutely paralyzed. the murderers had three good hours for escape; they had evaded the pursuit of lightning by snapping the telegraph wires, and rumor filled the town with so many reports that the first valuable hours, which should have been used to follow hard after them, were consumed in feverish efforts to know the real extent of the assassination. immediately afterwards, however, or on saturday morning early, the provost and special police force got on the scent, and military in squads were dispatched close upon their heels. three grand pursuits wore organized: one reaching up the north bank of the potomac toward chain bridge, to prevent escape by that direction into virginia, where mosby, it was suspected, waited to hail the murderers; a second starting from richmond, va., northward, forming a broad advancing picket or skirmish line between the blue ridge and the broad sea-running streams; a third to scour the peninsula towards point lookout. the latter region became the only one well examined; the northern expedition failed until advised from below to capture atzerott, and failed, to capture payne. yet there were cogent probabilities that the assassin had taken this route; far mosby would have given them the right hand of fellowship. when that guerrilla heard of booth's feat, said captain jett, he exclaimed: "now, by----! i could take that man in my arms." washington, as a precautionary measure, was doubly picketed at once; the authorities in all northern towns advised of the personnel of the murderer, and requests made of the detective chiefs in baltimore, philadelphia, and new-york, to forward to washington without delay their best decoys. a court of inquiry was organized on the moment, and early in the week succeeding rewards were offered. an individual, and not the government, offered the first rewards. there were two men without whom the hunt would have gone astray many times. john s. young, chief of the new-york detective force, a powerful and resolute man, whose great weight and strength are matched by boundless energy, and both subordinate to a head as clear as the keen and searching warrant of his eye. this man has been in familiar converse with every rebel agent in the canadas, and is feared by them as they fear the fates of beall and kennedy. without being a sensationist, he has probably rendered the cleverest services of the war to the general government. they sent for him immediately after the tragedy, and he stopped on the way for his old police companion, marshal murray. the latter's face and figure are familiar to all who know new-york; he resembles an admiral on his quarter-deck; he is a detective of fair and excellent repute, and has a somewhat novel pride in what he calls "the most beautiful gallows in the united states." these officials were ordered to visit colonel ingraham's office and examine the little evidence on hand. they and their tried officers formed a junction on sunday afternoon with the large detective force of provost-marshal major o'bierne. the latter commands the district of columbia civil and military police. he is a new-yorker and has been shot through the body in the field. the detective force of young and murray consisted of officers radford, kelso, elder, and hoey, of new-york; deputy-marshal newcome, formerly of the world's city staff; officers joseph pierson and west, of baltimore. major o'bierne's immediate aids were detectives john lee, lloyd, gavigan, coddingham, and williams. a detachment of the philadelphia detective police, force--officers taggert, george smith, and carlin, reporting to colonel baker--went in the direction of the north pole; everybody is on the _que vive_ for them. to the provost-marshal of baltimore, macphail, who knew the tone and bearing of the country throughout, was joined the zealous co-operation of officer lloyd, of major o'bierne's staff, who had a personal feeling against the secessionists of lower maryland; they had once driven him away for his loyalty, and had reserved their hospitality for assassins. lieutenant commander gushing, i am informed, also rendered important services to the government in connection with the police operations. volunteer detectives, such as ex-marshal lewis and angelis, were plentiful; it is probable that in the pitch of the excitement five hundred detective officers were in and around washington city. at the same time the secret police of richmond abandoned their ordinary business, and devoted themselves solely to this overshadowing offense. no citizen, in these terrible days, knows what eyes were upon him as he talked and walked, nor how his stature and guise were keenly scanned by folks who passed him absent-faced, yet with his mental portrait carefully turned over, the while some invisible hand clutched a revolver, and held a life or death challenge upon his lips. the military forces were commanded by colonel welles, of the twenty sixth michigan regiment, whose activity and zeal were amply sustained by colonel clendenning, of the eighth illinois cavalry, probably the finest body of horse in the service. the first party to take the south maryland road was dispatched by major o'bierne, and commanded by lieutenant lovett, of the veteran reserves. it consisted of twenty-five cavalry men, with detectives cottingham, lloyd, and gavigan; these latter, with the lieutenant, kept well in advance. they made inquiries of a soothing and cautious character, but saw nothing suspicious until they arrived at piscataway, where an unknown man, some distance ahead, observed them, and took to the woods. this was on sunday night, forty hours after the murder. guided by officer lloyd, the little band dashed on, arriving at bryantown on tuesday. here they arrested john lloyd, of the hotel at surrattsville, of whom they had previously inquired for the murderers, and he had said positively that he neither knew them nor had seen anybody whatever on the night of the crime. he was returning in a wagon, with his wife, whom he had ordered, the day before, to go on a visit to allen's fresh, the monday afterward he started to bring her back. this woman, frightened at the arrest, acknowledged at once that in her husband's conduct there was some inexplicable mystery. he was taciturn and defiant as before, until confronted by some of his old union neighbors. the few unionists of prince george's and charles counties, long persecuted and intimidated, now came forward and gave important testimony. among these was one roby, a very fat and very zealous old gentleman, whose professions were as ample as his perspiration. he told the officers of the secret meetings for conspiracy's, sake at lloyd's hotel, and although a very john gilpin on horseback, rode here and there to his great loss of wind and repose, fastening fire-coals upon the guilty or suspected. lloyd was turned over to mr. cottingham, who had established a jail at robytown; that night his house was searched, and booth's carbine found hidden in the wall. three days afterward, lloyd himself confessed--and his neck is quite nervous at this writing. this little party, under the untiring lovett, examined all the farm-houses below washington resorting to many shrewd expedients, and taking note of the great swamps to the east of port tobacco; they reached newport at last and fastened tacit guilt upon many residents. beyond bryantown they overhauled the residence of doctor mudd and found booth's boot. this was before lloyd confessed, and was the first positive trace the officers had that they were really close upon the assassins. i do not recall anything more wild and startling than this vague and dangerous exploration of a dimly known, hostile, and ignorant country. to these few detectives we owe much of the subsequent successful prosecution of the pursuit. they were the hebrew spies. by this time the country was filling up with soldiers, but previously a second memorable detective party went out under the personal command of major o'bierne. it consisted, besides that officer, of lee, d'angellia, callahan, hoey, bostwick, hanover, bevins, and mchenry, and embarked at washington on a steam-tug for chappell's point. here a military station had long been established for the prevention of blockade and mail-running across the potomao. it was commanded by lieutenant laverty, and garrisoned by sixty-five men. on tuesday night, major o'bierne's party reached this place, and soon afterwards, a telegraph station was established here by an invaluable man to the expedition, captain beckwith, general grant's chief cypher operator, who tapped the point lookout wire, and placed the war department within a moment's reach of the theater of events. major o'bierne's party started at once over the worst road in the world for port tobacco. if any place in the world is utterly given over to depravity, it is port tobacco. from this town, by a sinuous creek, there is flat boat navigation to the potomac, and across that river to mattox's creek. before the war port tobacco was the seat of a tobacco aristocracy and a haunt of negro traders. it passed very naturally into a rebel post for blockade-runners and a rebel post-office general. gambling, corner fighting, and shooting matches were its lyceum education. violence and ignorance had every suffrage in the town. its people were smugglers, to all intents, and there was neither bible nor geography to the whole region adjacent. assassination was never very unpopular at port tobacco, and when its victim was a northern president it became quite heroic. a month before the murder a provost-marshal near by was slain in his bed-chamber. for such a town and district the detective police were the only effective missionaries. the hotel here is called the brawner house; it has a bar in the nethermost cellar, and its patrons, carousing in that imperfect light, look like the denizens of some burglar's crib, talking robbery between their cups; its dining-room is dark and tumble-down, and the _cuisine_ bears traces of caffir origin; a barbecue is nothing to a dinner there. the court house of port tobacco is the most superflous house in the place, except the church. it stands in the center of the town in a square, and the dwellings lie about it closely, as if to throttle justice. five hundred people exist in port tobacco; life there reminds me, in connection with the slimy river and the adjacent swamps, of the great reptile period of the world, when iguanadons and pterodactyls and pleosauri ate each other. into this abstract of gomorrah the few detectives went like angels who visited lot. they pretended to be enquiring for friends, or to have business designs, and the first people they heard of were harold and atzerott. the latter had visited port tobacco three weeks before the murder, and intimated at that time his design of fleeing the country. but everybody denied having seen him subsequent to the crime. atzerott had been in town just prior to the crime. he had been living with a widow woman named mrs. wheeler, by whom he had several children, and she was immediately called upon by major o'bierne. he did not tell her what atzerott had done, but vaguely hinted that he had committed some terrible crime, and that since he had done her wrong, she could vindicate both herself and justice by telling his whereabouts. the woman admitted that atzerott had been her bane, but she loved him, and refused to betray him. his trunk was found in her garret, and in it the key to his paint shop in port tobacco. the latter was fruitlessly searched, but the probable whereabouts of atzerott in mongomery county obtained, and major o'bierne telegraphing there immediately, the desperate fellow was found and locked up. a man named crangle who had succeeded atzerott in mrs. wheeler's pliable affections, was arrested at once and put in jail. a number of disloyal people were indicated or "spotted" as in no wise angry at the president's taking off, and for all such a provost prison was established. [illustration: maryland.] a few miles from port tobacco dwelt a solitary woman, who, when questioned, said that for many nights she had heard, after she had retired to bed, a man enter her cellar and lie there all night, departing before dawn. major o'bierne and the detectives ordered her to place a lamp in her window the next night she heard him enter, and at dark they established a cordon of armed officers around the place. at midnight punctually she exhibited the light, when the officers broke into the house and thoroughly searched it, without result. yet the woman positively asserted that she had heard the man enter. it was afterward found that she was of diseased mind. by this time the military had come up in considerable numbers, and major o'bierne was enabled to confer with major wait, of the eighth illinois. the major had pushed on monday night to leonardstown, and pretty well overhauled that locality. it was at this time that preparations were made to hunt the swamps around chapmantown, beantown, and allen's fresh. booth had been entirely lost since his departure from mudd's house, and it was believed that he had either pushed on for the potomac or taken to the swamps. the officers sagaciously determined to follow him to the one and to explore the other. the swamps tributary to the various branches of the wicomico river, of which the chief feeder is allen's creek, bear various names, such as jordan's swamp, atchall's swamp, and scrub swamp. there are dense growths of dogwood, gum, and beech, planted in sluices of water and bog; and their width varies from a half mile to four miles, while their length is upwards of sixteen miles. frequent deep ponds dot this wilderness place, with here and there a stretch of dry soil, but no human being inhabits the malarious extent; even a hunted murderer would shrink from hiding there. serpents and slimy lizards are the only denizens; sometimes the coon takes refuge in this desert from the hounds, and in the soil mud a thousand odorous muskrats delve, with now and then a tremorous otter. but not even the hunted negro dares to fathom the treacherous clay, nor make himself a fellow of the slimy reptiles which reign absolute in this terrible solitude. here the soldiers prepared to seek for the president's assassin, and no search of the kind has ever been so thorough and patient. the shawnee, in his strong hold of despair in the heart of okeefeuokee, would scarcely have changed homes with wilkes booth and david harold, hiding in this inhuman country. the military forces deputed to pursue the fugitives were seven hundred men of the eighth illinois cavalry, six hundred men of the twenty-second colored troops, and one hundred men of the sixteenth new york. these swept the swamps by detachments, the mass of them dismounted, with cavalry at the belts of clearing, interspersed with detectives at frequent intervals in the rear. they first formed a strong picket cordon entirely around the swamps, and then, drawn up in two orders of battle, advanced boldly into the bogs by two lines of march. one party swept the swamps longitudinally, the other pushed straight across their smallest diameter. a similar march has not been made during the war; the soldiers were only a few paces apart, and in steady order they took the ground as it came, now plunging to their arm-pits in foul sluices of gangrened water, now hopelessly submerged in slime, now attacked by regions of wood ticks, now tempting some unfaithful log or greenishly solid morass, and plunging to the tip of the skull in poison stagnation; the tree boughs rent their uniforms; they came out upon dry land, many of them without a rag of garment scratched, and gashed, and spent, repugnant to themselves, and disgusting to those who saw them; but not one trace of booth or harold was any where found. wherever they might be, the swamps did not contain them. while all this was going on, a force started from point lookout, and swept the narrow necks of saint mary's quite up to medley's neck. to complete the search in this part of the country, colonel wells and major o'bierne started with a force of cavalry and infantry for chappel point; they took the entire peninsula as before, and marched in close skirmish line across it, but without finding anything of note. the matter of inclosing a house was by cavalry advances, which held all the avenues till mounted detectives came up. many strange and ludicrous adventures occured on each of these expeditions. while the forces were going up cobb's neck, there was a counter force coming down from allen's fresh. major o'bierne started for leonardstown with his detective force, and played off laverty as booth, and hoey as harold. these two advanced to farm-houses and gave their assumed names, asking at the same time for assistance and shelter. they were generally avoided, except by one man named claggert, who told them they might hide in the woods behind his house. when claggert was arrested, however he stated that he meant to hide them only to give them up. while on this adventure, a man who had heard of the reward came very near shooting laverty. the ruse now became hazardous and the detectives resumed their real characters. i have not time to go into the detail of this long and excellent hunt. my letter of yesterday described how the detectives of mr. young and marshal murray examined the negro swan, and traced booth to the house of sam coxe, the richest rebel in charles county. there is a gap in the evidence between the arrival of booth at this place and his crossing the potomac above swan point, in a stolen or purposely-provided canoe. but as coxe's house is only ten miles from the river, it is possible that he made the passage of the intermediate country undiscovered. one mills, a rebel mail-carrier, also arrested, saw booth and harold lurking along the river bank on friday; he referred major o'bierne to one claggert, a rebel, as having seen them also; but claggert held his tongue, and went to jail. on saturday night, major o'bierne, thus assured, also crossed the potomac with his detectives to boon's farm, where the fugitives had landed. while collecting information here a gunboat swung up the stream, and threatened to fire on the party. it was now night, and all the party worn to the ground with long travel and want of sleep. lieutenant laverty's men went a short distance down the country and gave up, but major o'bierne, with a single man, pushed all night to king george's court-house, and next day, sunday, re-embarked for chappell's point. hence he telegraphed his information, and asked permission to pursue, promising to catch the assassins before they reached port royal. this the department refused. colonel baker's men were delegated to make the pursuit with the able lieutenant doherty, and. o'bierne, who was the most active and successful spirit in the chase, returned to washington, cheerful and contented. at mrs. burratt's washington house, at the pennsylvania hotel, washington, and at surrattsville, the booth plot was almost entirely arranged. these three places will be relics of conspiracy forever. harold said to lieutenant doherty, after the latter had dragged him from the barn. "who's that man in there? it can't be booth; he told me his name was loyd." he further said that he had begged food for booth from house to house while the latter hid in the woods. the confederate captain, willie jett, who had given booth a lift behind his saddle from port royal to garrett's farm, was then courting a miss goldmann at bowling green; his traveling companions were lieutenants ruggles and burbridge. payne, the assassin of the sewards, was arrested by officers, sampson, of the sub-treasury, and devoe, acting under general alcott. the latter had besides, officers marsh and clancy (a stenographer). the reward for the capture of booth will be distributed between very many men. the negro, swan, will get as much of it, as he deserves. it amounts to about eighty thousand dollars, but the war department may increase it at discretion. the entire rewards amount to a hundred and sixty odd thousand. major o'bierne should get a large part of it as well. this story which i must close abruptly, deserves to be re-written, with all its accessory endeavours. what i have said is in skeleton merely, and far from exhaustive. letter vii. the martyr. washington, may 14. i am sitting in the president's office. he was here very lately, but he will not return to dispossess me of this high-backed chair he filled so long, nor resume his daily work at the table where i am writing. there are here only major hay and the friend who accompanies me. a bright-faced boy runs in and out, darkly attired, so that his fob-chain of gold is the only relief to his mourning garb. this is little tad., the pet of the white house. that great death, with which the world rings, has made upon him only the light impression which all things make upon childhood. he will live to be a man pointed out everywhere, for his father's sake; and as folks look at him, the tableau of the murder will seem to encircle him. the room is long and high, and so thickly hung with maps that the color of the wall cannot be discerned. the president's table at which i am seated, adjoins a window at the farthest corner; and to the left of my chair as i recline in it, there is a large table before an empty grate, around which there are many chairs, where the cabinet used to assemble. the carpet is trodden thin, and the brilliance of its dyes is lost. the furniture is of the formal cabinet class, stately and semi-comfortable; there are book cases sprinkled with the sparse library of a country lawyer, but lately plethoric, like the thin body which has departed in its coffin. they are taking away mr. lincoln's private effects, to deposit them wheresoever his family may abide, and the emptiness of the place, on this sunny sunday, revives that feeling of desolation from which the land has scarce recovered. i rise from my seat and examine the maps; they are from the coast survey and engineer departments, and exhibit all the contested grounds of the war: there are pencil lines upon them where some one has traced the route of armies, and planned the strategic circumferences of campaigns. was it the dead president who so followed the march of empire, and dotted the sites of shock and overthrow? here is the manassas country--here the long reach of the wasted shenandoah; here the wavy line of the james and the sinuous peninsula. the wide campagna of the gulf country sways in the potomac breeze that filters in at the window, and the mississippi climbs up the wall, with blotches of blue and red to show where blood gushed at the bursting of deadly bombs. so, in the half-gloomy, half-grand apartment, roamed the tall and wrinkled figure whom the country had summoned from his plain home into mighty history, with the geography of the republic drawn into a narrow compass so that he might lay his great brown hand upon it everywhere. and walking to and fro, to and fro, to measure the destinies of arms, he often stopped, with his thoughtful eyes upon the carpet, to ask if his life were real and if he were the arbiter of so tremendous issues, or whether it was not all a fever-dream, snatched from his sofa in the routine office of the prairie state. there is but one picture on the marble mantel over the cold grate--john bright, a photograph. i can well imagine how the mind of mr. lincoln often went afar to the face of bright, who said so kindly things of him when europe was mocking his homely guise and provincial phraseology. to mr. lincoln, john bright was the standard-bearer of america and democracy in the old world. he thrilled over bright's bold denunciations of peer and "privilege," and stretched his long arm across the atlantic to take that daring quaker innovator by the hand. i see some books on the table; perhaps they have lain there undisturbed since the reader's dimming eyes grew nerveless. a parliamentary manual, a thesaurus, and two books of humor, "orpheus c. kerr," and "artemus ward." these last were read by mr. lincoln in the pauses of his hard day's labor. their tenure here bears out the popular verdict of his partiality for a good joke; and, through the window, from the seat of mr. lincoln, i see across the grassy grounds of the capitol, the broken shaft of the washington monument, the long bridge and the fort-tipped heights of arlington, reaching down to the shining river side. these scenes he looked at often to catch some freshness of leaf and water, and often raised the sash to let the world rush in where only the nation abided, and hence on that awful night, he departed early, to forget this room and its close applications in the _abandon_ of the theater. i wonder if that were the least of booth's crimes--to slay this public servant in the stolen hour of recreation he enjoyed but seldom. we worked his life out here, and killed him when he asked a holiday. outside of this room there is an office, where his secretaries sat--a room more narrow but as long--and opposite this adjacent office, a second door, directly behind mr. lincoln's chair leads by a private passage to his family quarters. this passage is his only monument in the building; he added nor subtracted nothing else; it tells a long story of duns and loiterers, contract-hunters and seekers for commissions, garrulous parents on paltry errands, toadies without measure and talkers without conscience. they pressed upon him through the great door opposite his window, and hat in hand, come courtsying to his chair, with an obsequious "mr. president!" if he dared, though the chief magistrate and commander of the army and navy, to go out of the great door, these vampires leaped upon him with their babylonian pleas, and barred his walk to his hearthside. he could not insult them since it was not in his nature, and perhaps many of them had really urgent errands. so he called up the carpenter and ordered a strategic route cut from his office to his hearth, and perhaps told of it after with much merriment. here should be written the biography of his official life--in the room where have concentrated all the wires of action, and where have proceeded the resolves which vitalized in historic deeds. but only the great measures, however carried out, were conceived in this office. the little ones proceeded from other places.. here once came mr. stanton, saying in his hard and positive way: "mr. lincoln, i have found it expedient to disgrace and arrest general stone." "stanton," said mr. lincoln, with an emotion of pain, "when you considered it necessary to imprison general stone, i am glad you did not consult me about it." and for lack of such consultation, general stone, i learn, now lies a maniac in the asylum. the groundless pretext, upon which he suffered the reputation of treason, issued from the department of war--not from this office. but as to his biography, it is to be written by colonel nicolay and major hay. they are to go to paris together, one as attache of legation, the other as consul, and while there, will undertake the labor. they are the only men who know his life well enough to exhaust it, having followed his official tasks as closely as they shared his social hours. major hay is a gentleman of literary force. colonel nicolay has a fine judgment of character and public measures. together they should satisfy both curiosity and history. as i hear from my acquaintances here these episodes of the president's life, i recall many reminiscences of his ride from springfield to harrisburg, over much of which i passed. then he left home and became an inhabitant of history. his face was solid and healthy, his step young, his speech and manner bold and kindly. i saw him at trenton stand in the legislature, and say, in his conversational intonation: "we may have to put the foot down firm." how should we have hung upon his accents then had we anticipated his virtues and his fate. death is requisite to make opinion grave. we looked upon mr. lincoln then as an amusing sensation, and there was much guffaw as he was regarded by the populace; he had not passed out of partisan ownership. little by little, afterward, he won esteem, and often admiration, until the measure of his life was full, and the victories he had achieved made the world applaud him. yet, at this date, the president was sadly changed. four years of perplexity and devotion had wrinkled his face, and stooped his shoulders, and the failing eyes that glared upon the play closed as his mission was completed, and the world had been educated enough to comprehend him. the white house has been more of a republican mansion under his control than for many administrations. uncouth guests came to it often, typical of the simple western civilization of which he was a graduate, and while no coarse altercation has ever ensued, the portal has swung wide for five years. a friend, connected with a washington newspaper, told me that he had occasion to see mr. lincoln one evening, and found that the latter had gone to bed. but he was told to sit down in the office, and directly the president entered. he wore only a night shirt, and his long, lank hirsute limbs, as he sat down, inclined the guest to laughter. mr. lincoln disposed of his request at once, and manifested a desire to talk. so he reached for the cane which my friend carried and conversed in this manner: "i always used a cane when i was a boy. it was a freak of mine. my favorite one was a knotted beech stick, and i carved the head myself. there's a mighty amount of character in sticks. don't you think so? you have seen these fishing poles that fit into a cane? well, that was an old idea of mine. dogwood clubs were favorite ones with the boys. i 'spose they use'em yet. hickory is too heavy, unless you get it from a young sapling. have you ever noticed how a stick in one's hand will change his appearance? old women and witches would'nt look so without sticks. meg merrilies understands that." in this way my friend, who is a clerk, in a newspaper office, heard the president talk for an hour. the undress of the man and the witness of his subject would be staples for merriment if we did not reflect that his greatness was of no conventional cast, that the playfulness of his nature and the simplicity of his illustration lightened public business but never arrested it. another gentleman, whom i know, visited the president in high dudgeon one night. he was a newspaper proprietor and one of his editors had been arrested. "mr. lincoln," he said, "i have been off electioneering for your re-election, and in my absence you have had my editor arrested. i won't stand it, sir. i have fought better administrations than yours." "why, john," said the president, "i don't know much about it. i suppose your boys have been too enterprizing. the fact is, i don't interfere with the press much, but i suppose i am responsible." "i want you to order the man's release to-night," said the applicant. "i shan't leave here till i get it. in fact, i am the man who should be arrested. why don't you send me to capitol hill?" this idea pleased the president exceedingly. he laughed the other into good humor. "in fact," he said, "i am under restraint here, and glad of any pretext to release a journalist." so he wrote the order, and the writer got his liberty. it must not be inferred from this, however, that the president was a devotee to literature. he had no professional enthusiasm for it. the literary coterie of the white house got little flattery but its members were treated as agreeable citizens and not as the architects of any body's fortune. willis went there much for awhile, but yielded to his old habit of gossiping about the hall paper and the teapots. emerson went there once, and was deferred to us if he were anything but a philosopher. yet he so far grasped the character of his host as to indite that noble humanitarian eulogy upon him, delivered at concord, and printed in the world. it will not do to say definitely in this notice how several occasional writers visited the white house, heard the president's views and assented to them and afterward abused him. but these attained no remembrance nor tart reproach from that least retaliatory of men. he harbored no malice, and is said to have often placed himself on the stand-point of davis and lee, and accounted for their defection while he could not excuse it. he was a good reader, and took all the leading new york dailies every day. his secretaries perused them and selected all the items which would interest the president; these were read to him and considered. he bought few new books, but seemed ever alive to works of comic value; the vein of humor in him was not boisterous in its manifestations, but touched the geniality of his nature, and he reproduced all that he absorbed, to elucidate some new issue, or turn away argument by a laugh. as a jester, mr. lincoln's tendency was caricatured by the prints, but not exaggerated. he probably told as many stories as are attributed to him. nor did he, as is averred, indulge in these jests on solemn occasions. no man felt with such personal intensity the extent of the casualties of his time, and he often gravely reasoned whether he could be in any way responsible for the bloodshed and devastation over which it was his duty to preside. an acquaintance of mine--a private--once went to him to plead for a man's life. he had never seen the man for whom he pleaded, and had no acquaintance with the man's family. mr. lincoln was touched by his disinterestedness, and said to him: "if i were anything but the president, i would be constantly working as you have done." whenever a doubt of one's guilt lay on his mind, the man was spared by his direct interference.. there was an entire absence in the president's character of the heroic element. he would do a great deed in _deshabille_ as promptly as in full dress. he never aimed to be brilliant, unconsciously understanding that a great man's brilliancy is to be measured by the "wholeness" and synthetic cast of his career rather than by any fitful ebullitions. for that reason we look in vain through his messages for "points." his point was not to turn a sentence or an epigram, but to win an effect, regardless of the route to it. he was commonplace in his talk, and chesterfield would have had no patience with him; his dignity of character lay in his uprightness rather than in his formal manner. members of his government often reviewed him plainly in his presence. yet he divined the true course, while they only argued it out. his good feeling was not only personal, but national. he had no prejudice against any race or potentate. and his democracy was of a practical, rather than of a demonstrative, nature. he was not marat, but moreau--not paine and jefferson; but franklin. his domestic life was like a parlor of night-time, lit by the equal grate of his genial and uniform kindness. young thaddy played with him upon the carpet; robert came home from the war and talked to his father as to a school-mate, he was to mrs. lincoln as chivalrous on the last day of his life as when he courted her. i have somewhere seen a picture of henry iv. of france, riding his babies on his back: that was the president. so dwelt the citizen who is gone--a model in character if not in ceremony, for good men to come who will take his place in the same white house, and find their generation comparing them to the man thought worthy of assassination. i am glad to sit here in his chair, where he has bent so often,--in the atmosphere of the household he purified, in the sight of the green grass and the blue river he hallowed by gazing upon, in the very centre of the nation he preserved for the people, and close the list of bloody deeds, of desperate fights of swift expiations, of renowned obsequies of which i have written, by inditing at his table the goodness of his life and the eternity of his memory. letter viii. the trial. washington, may 26. the most exciting trial of our times has obtained a very meager commemoration in all but its literal features. the evidence adduced in the course of it, has been too faithfully reported, through its far-fetched and monotonous irregularities, but nobody realizes the extraordinary scene from which so many columns emanate, either by aid of the reporters' scanty descriptions, or by the purblind sketches of the artists. now that the evidence is growing vapid, and the obstinacy of the military commission has lost its coarse zest, we may find enough readers to warrant a fuller sketch of the conspirators' prison. about a mile below washington, where the high potomac bluffs meet the marshy border of the eastern branch, stands the united states arsenal, a series of long, mathematically uninteresting brick buildings, with a broad lawn behind them, open to the water, and level military plazas, on which are piled pyramids of shell and ball, among acres of cannon and cannon-carriages, and caissons. a high wall, reaching circularly around these buildings, shows above it, as one looks from washington, the barred windows of an older and more gloomy structure than the rest, which forms the city front of the group of which it is the principal. this was a penitentiary, but, long ago added to the arsenal, it has been re-transformed to a court-room and jail, and in its third, or uppermost story, the military commission is sitting. the main road to the arsenal is by a wide and vacant avenue, which abuts against a gate where automaton sentries walk, but the same gate can best be reached on foot by the shores of the potomac, in the sight, of the forts, the shipping, and alexandria. the scene at the arsenal in time of peace is common-place enough, except that across the eastern branch the towers of the lunatic asylum, perched upon a height, look down baronially; but this trial of murderers has made the spot a fair. a whole company of volunteers keeps the gate, through which are passing cabs, barouches, officers' ambulances, and a stream of folks on foot; while farther along almost a regiment crosses the drive, their huddled shelter tents extending entirely across the peninsula. these are playing cards on the ground, and tossing quoits, and sleeping on their faces, while a gunboat watches the river front, and under a circular wall a line of patrols, ten yards apart, go to and fro perpetually. it is 10 o'clock, and the court is soon to sit. its members ride down in superb ambulances and bring their friends along to show them the majesty of justice. a perfect park of carriages stands by the door to the left, and from these dismount major-generals' wives, in rustling silks; daughters of congressmen, attired like the lilies of the milliner; little girls who hope to be young ladies and have come with "pa," to look at the assassins; even brides are here, in the fresh blush of their nuptials, and they consider the late spectacle of the review as good as lost, if the court-scene be not added to it. these tender creatures have a weakness for the ring of manacles, the sight of folks to be suspended in the air, the face of a woman confederate in blood. they chat with their polite guides, many of whom are gallant captains, and go one after another up the little flight of steps which leads to the room of the officer of the day. he passes them, if he pleases, up the crooked stairways, and when they have climbed three of these, they enter a sort of garret-room, oblong, and plastered white, and about as large as an ordinary town-house parlor. four doors open into it--that by which we have entered, two from the left, where the witnesses wait, and one at the end, near the left far corner, which is the outlet from the cells. a railing, close up to the stairway door, gives a little space in the foreground for witnesses; two tables, transverse to this rail, are for the commission and the press, the first-named being to the right; between these are a raised platform and pivot arm-chair for the witness; below are the sworn phonographers and the counsel for the accused, and then another rail like that separating the crowd from the court, holds behind it the accused and their guards. these are they who are living not by years nor by weeks, but by breaths. they are motley enough, for the most part, sitting upon a long bench with their backs against the wall,--ill-shaved, haggard, anxious, and the dungeon door at their left opens now and then to show behind it a moving bayonet. there are women within the court proper, edging upon the reporters, introduced there by a fussy usher, and through four windows filters the imperfect daylight, making all things distinguishable, yet shadowy. the _coup d'oeil_ of this small and crowded scene is lively as a popular funeral. there is the witness with raised hand, pointing toward heaven, and looking at judge holt. the gilt stars, bars, and orange-colored sashes of the commission; the women's brilliant silks and bonnets; the crowding spectators, with their brains in their eyes; the blue coats of the guards; the working scribes; and last of all the line of culprits, whose suspected guilt has made them worthy of all illustration. between the angle of the wall and the studded door, under the heavy bar of dressed stone which marks above the thickness of the gaol, sits all alone a woman's figure, clothed in solemn black. her shadowy skirt hides her feet, so that we cannot see whether they are riveted; her sleeves of sable sweep down to her wrist, and dark gloves cover the plumpness of her hand, while a palm-leaf fan nods to and fro to assist the obscurity of her vail of crape, descending from her widow's bonnet. a solitary woman, beginning the line of coarse indicted men, shrinking beneath the scornful eyes of her sex, and the as bold survey of men more pitiful, may well excite, despite her guilt, a moment of sympathy. let men remember that she is the mother of a son who has fled to save his forfeit life by deserting her to shame, and perhaps, to death. let women, who will not mention her in mercy, learn from her end, in all succeeding wars, to make patriotism of their household duties and not incite to blood. mrs. surratt is a graduate of that seminary which spits in soldiers faces, denounces brave generals upon the rostrum, and cries out for an interminable scaffold when all the bells are ringing peace. how far her wicked love influenced her to participation in the murder rests in her own breast, and up to this time she has not differed from mothers at large--to twist her own bow-string rather than build his gibbet. beneath her shadowy bonnet, over her fan-tip, we see two large, sad eyes, rising and falling, and now and then when the fan sways to and fro, the hair just turning gray with trouble, and the round face growing wan and seamed with terrible reflection, are seen a moment crouching low, as if she would wish to grovel upon the floor and bury her forehead in her hands. yet, sometimes, across mrs. surratt's face a stealthiness creeps--a sort of furtive, feline flashing of the eye, like that of one which means to leap sideways. at these times her face seems to grow hard and colorless, as if that tiger expression which pradier caught upon the face of brinvilliers and fastened into a masque, had been repeated here. not to grow mawkish while we must be kind, let us not forget that this woman is an old plotter. if she did not devise the assassination, she was privy to it long. she was an agent of contraband mails--a bold, crafty, assured rebel--perhaps a spy--and in the event of her condemnation, let those who would plead for her spend half their pity upon that victim whose heart was like a woman's, and whose hand was merciful as a mother's. before the door sits an officer, uncovered, who does not seem to labor under any particular fear, chiefly because the captives are ironed to immovability, and he stares and smiles alternately, as if he were somewhat amiable and extremely bored. next to the officer is a shabby-looking boy, whose seat is by the right jamb of the jail door. of all boys just old enough to feel their oats, this boy is the most commonplace. his parents would be likely to have no sanguine hopes of his reaching the presidency; for his head indicates latent dementia, and a slice or two from it would recommend him, without exanimation, to the school for the feeble-minded. better dressed, and washed, and shaved, he might make a tolerable adornment to a hotel door, or even reach the dignity of a bar-keeper or an usher at a theatre. but that this fellow should occupy a leaf in history and be confounded with a tragedy entering into the literature of the world, reverses manifest destiny, and leaves neither phrenology nor physiognomy a place to stand upon. come up! gall, spurzheim, and lavater, and remark his sallow face, attenuated by base excesses! do you know any forehead so broad which means so little? the oyster could teach this man philosophy! his chin is sharp, his eyes are blank blue, his short black hair curls over his ears, and his beard is of a prickly black, with a moustache which does not help his general contemptibleness. a dirty grayish shirt without a linen collar, is seen between the lapels of the greasy and dusty cloth coat, sloping at the shoulders; and under his worn brown trowsers, the manacle of iron makes an ugly garter to his carpet clipper. this is david harold, who shared the wild night-ride of booth, and barely escaped that outlaw's death in the burning barn. he stoops to the rail of the dock, now and then, to chat with his attorney, and a sort of blank anxiety which he wears, as his head turns here and there, shifts to a frolicking smile. but a woman of unusual attractions enters the court, and harold is much more interested in her than in his acquittal. great caesar's dust, which stopped a knot-hole, has in this play boy an inverse parallel. he was at best hostler to a murderer, and failed in that. his chief concern at present is to have somebody to talk to; and he thinks upon the whole, that if an assassination is productive of so little fun, he will have nothing to do with another one. that harold has slipped into history gives us as much surprise as that he has yet to suffer death gives us almost contempt for the scaffold. but if the scaffold must wait for only wise men to get upon it, it must rot. your wise man does no murder in the first place, and if so, in the second, he dodges the penalty. in this world, harold, idiotcy is oftener punished than guilt. that booth should have used harold is very naturally accounted for. actors live only to be admired; vanity rises to its climax in them. booth preferred this sparrow to sing him peans rather than live by an eagle and be screamed at now and then. at the right hand side of harold sits a soldier in blue, who is evidently thinking about a game of quoits with his comrades in the jail yard; he wonders why lawyers are so very dry, and is surprised to find a trial for murder as tedious as a thanksgiving sermon. but on the soldier's other hand is a figure which makes the center and cynosure of this thrilling scene. taller by a whole head than either his companions or the sentries, payne, the assassin, sits erect, and flings his barbarian eye to and fro, radiating the tremendous energy of his colossal physique. he is the only man worthy to have murdered mr. seward. when against the delicate organization, the fine, subtle, nervous mind of the secretary of state, this giant, knife in hand, precipitated himself, two forms of civilization met as distinctly as when the savage gauls invaded the roman senate. lawlessness and intelligence, the savage and the statesman, body and mind, fought together upon mr. seward's bed. the mystery attending payne's home and parentage still exists to make him more incomprehensible. out of the vague, dim _ultima thule_, like those asiatic hordes which came from nowhere and shivered civilization, payne suddenly appeared and fought his way to the _sanctum sanctorum_ of law. i think his part in the assassination more remarkable than booth's, the latter's crime was shrewdly plotted, as by one measuring intelligence with the whole government. but payne did not think--he only struck! with this man's face before me as i write, i am reminded of some maori chief waging war from the lust of blood or the pride of local dominion. his complexion is bloodless, yet so healthy that a passing observer would afterward speak of it as ruddy. his face is broad, with a character nose, sensual lips, and very high cheek bones; the cranium is full and the brow speaking, while the head runs back to an abnormal apex at the tip of the cerebellum. his straight, lusterless black hair, duly parted, is at the summit so disturbed that tufts of it rise up like red jacket's or tecumseh's; but the head is kept well up, and rests upon a wonderfully broad throat, muscular as one's thigh, and without any trace, as he sits, of the protuberance called adam's apple. withal, the eye is the man payne's power. it is dark and speechless, and rolls here and there like that of a beast in a cage which strives in vain to understand the language of its captors. it seems to say, if anything, that, it has no sympathy with anybody approximate, and has submitted, like a lion bound, to the logic of conviction and of chains. payne looks at none of his fellow-prisoners: assassins caught seldom cares to recognise each other; for while there is faithfulness among thieves, there is none among murderers. his great white eyeball never roves to anybody's in the dock, nor theirs to his. he has confessed his crime and they know it; so they have no mutual hope; they listen to the evidence because it concerns them; ho looks at it only, because it cannot save him. he is entirely beardless, yet in his boyish chin more of a man physically than the rest, combined. while i watch this man i am constantly repeating to myself that stanza of bryant's: "upon the market place he stood,- a man of giant frame, amid the gathering multitude that shrank to hear his name; all proud of step and firm of limb, his dark eye on the ground- and silently they gazed on him, as on a lion bound." his dress, which we scarcely notice in the grander contrast of his pose and stature, is an old shirt of woolen blue, with a white nap at the button-holes, and upon his knees of black cloth he twirls, as if for relaxation, between his powerful manacles, a soiled white handkerchief--if from his mother, we conjecture, a gift to a bloodhound from his dam. his heavy handcuffs make his broad shoulders more narrow. yet we can see by the outline of the sleeves what girth the muscles has, and the hand at the end of his long and bony arm is wide and huge, as if it could wield a claymore as well as a dirk. he also wears carpet slippers, but his ankles are clogged with so heavy irons that two men must carry them when he enters or leaves the dock. for this man there can be no sentiment--no more than for a bull. the flesh on his face is hard, as if cast, rather than generated, and while we see how he towers above the entire court, we watch him in wonder, as if he were some maniac denizen of a zone where men without minds grow to the stature and power of fiends. the face of payne is not of the traditional southern peculiarities. he resembles rather a pennsylvania mountaineer than a kentucky rustic. three weeks ago i gave, in an account of the conspiracy which many gainsayed, but which the trial has fully confirmed, a sketch of this man, to which i still adhere. he was furnished to booth and john surratt from canada; sent upon special service with his life in his hands; and he faced the murder he was to commit like any prize-fighter. i pity beall, who died intelligently for a wretched essay against civilians, that his biography and fate must be matched by this savage's! next to payne, and crouching under him like a frog under a rock, is an inconsiderable soldier, who chews his cud, and would cheerfully hang his protege for the sake of being rid of him. my sympathies are entirely enlisted for this soldier; he has neither the joy of being acquitted, nor the excitement of being tried. he is quite a sizable man by himself, but payne overhangs him, and the dullness of the trial quite stultifies him. the few points of law which are admitted here are not so evident to this soldier as the point of his bayonet. i see what ails him. he wants to swear. a beam running overhead divides the court lengthwise in half, and as the prisoners sit at the end of the court, the german atzerott, or adzerota, has a place just beneath the beam. this is very ominous for atzerott. the filthiness of this man denies him sympathy. he is a disgusting little groveler of dry, sandy hair, oval head, ears set so close to the chin that one would think his sense of hearing limited to his jaws, and a complexion so yellow that the uncropped brownness of his beard does not materially darken it. he wears a grayish coat, low grimy shirt, and the usual carpet slippers of threadbare red over his shifting and shiftless feet. his head is bent forward, and seems to be anxiously trying to catch the tenor of the trial. many persons outside of the court, atzerott, are equally puzzled! from as much examination of this man as his insignificance permits, i should call him a "gabby" fellow--loud of resolution, ignoble of effort. over his lager no man would be braver. his face is familiar to me from a review of those detective cabinets usually called "rogues' galleries." as a "sneak thief" or "bagman," i should convict him by his face; the same indictment would make me acquit him instantly of assassination. in this estimate i rely upon evidence as well as upon appearance. atzerott swaggered about kirk wood's hotel asking for the vice-president's room; payne or booth would have done the murder silently. nobody pities a dirty man. the same arts of dress and cleanliness which please ladies influence juries. next to atzerott sits a soldier--a very jolly and smooth faced soldier--who at one time hears a witness say something laughable. the soldier immediately grins to the farthest point of his scalp. but he is chagrined to find that the joke is too trivial to admit of a laugh of duration. very few jokes before the present court do so. but this soldier being of long charity and excellent patience, awaits the next joke like a veteran under orders, and reposes his chin upon the dock as if aware that between jokes there was ample time for a nap. the next prisoner to the right is o'laughlin. he is a small man, about twenty-eight years of age, attired in a fine, soiled coat, but without white linen upon either his bosom or neck, and handcuffs rest hugely upon his mediocrity. his moustache, eye-brows, and hair are regular and very black. he does not look unlike booth, though he seems to have little bodily power, and he is very anxious, as if more earnest than any of the rest, to have a fair lease upon life. his countenance is not prepossessing, though he might be considered passably good looking in a mixed company. between o'laughlin and the next prisoner, spangler, sits a soldier in ultramarine--a discontented soldier, a moody, dissatisfied, and arbitrary soldier. his definition of military justice is like the boy's answer at school to the familiar question upon the constitution of the united states: "what rights do accused persons enjoy ?" the boy wrote out, very carefully, this answer: "death by hanging." the boy would have been correct had the question applied to accused persons before a court-martial. spangler, the scene-shifter and stage-carpenter, has the face and bearing of a day-laborer. his blue woollen shirt does not confuse him, as he is used to it. he has an oldish face, wrinkled by fearful anticipations, and his hair is thin. he is awkwardly built, and watches the trial earnestly, as if striving to catch between the links of evidence vistas of a life insured. this man has a simple and pleading face, and there is something genial in his great, incoherent countenance. he is said to have cleared the stage for booth's escape, but this is indifferently testified to. he had often been asked by booth to take a drink at the nearest bar. persons who drink assure me that the greatest mark of confidence which a great man can show a lesser one is to make that tender; this, therefore, explains booth's power over spangler. spangler is the first scene-shifter who may become a _dramatis personã¦_. a soldier sits between spangler and doctor mudd. the soldier would like spangler to get up and go away, so that he could have as much of the bench as he might sleep upon. this particular soldier, i may be qualified to say, would sleep upon his post. doctor mudd has a new england and not a maryland face. he compares, to those on his left, as hyperion to a squatter. his high, oval head is bald very far up, but not benevolently so, and it is covered with light red hair, so thin as to contrast indifferently with the denseness of his beard and goatee. his nose would be insignificant but for its sharpness, and at the nostrils it is swelling and high-spirited. his eyes impinge upon his brows, and they are shining and rather dark, while the brows themselves are so scantily clothed with hair that they seem quite naked. mudd is neatly dressed in a green-grass duster, and white bosom and collar; if he had no other advantages over his associates these last would give it to him. he keeps his feet upon the rail before him in true republican style, and rolls a morsel of tobacco under his tongue. the military commission works as if it were delegated not to try, but to convict, and dr. mudd, if he be innocent, is in only less danger than if he were guilty. he has a sort of home-bred intelligence in his face, and socially is as far above his fellows as goliah of gath above the rest of the philistines. on the right of doctor mudd sits a soldier, who is striving to look through his legs at the judge-advocate, as if taking a sort of secret aim at that person, with the intent to fetch him down, because he makes the trial so very dry, and the soldier so very thirsty. the last man, who sits on the extreme right of the prisoners, is mr. sam. arnold. he is, perhaps, the best looking of the prisoners, and the least implicated. he has a solid, pleasant face; has been a rebel soldier, foolishly committed himself to booth, with perhaps no intention to do a crime, recanted in pen and ink, and was made a national character. had he recanted by word of mouth he might have saved himself unpleasant dreams. this shows everybody the absurdity of writing what they can so easily say. the best thing arnold ever wrote was his letter to booth refusing to engage in murder. yet this recantation is more in evidence against than then his original purpose. arnold looks out of the window, and feels easy. the reporters who are present are generally young fellows, practical and ardent, like woods, of boston; colburn, of the world; and major poore, who has been the chronicler of such scenes for twenty years. ber. pitman, one of the authors of phonetic writing, is among the official reporters, and the murphies, who could report the lightning, if it could talk, are slashing down history as it passes in at their ears and runs out at their fingers' ends. the counsel for the accused strike me as being commonplace lawyers. they either have no chance or no pluck to assert the dignity of their profession. reverdy johnson is not here. the first day disgusted him, as he is a practitioner of _law_. yet the best word of the trial has been his: "i, gentlemen, am a member of that body of legislators which creates courts-martial and major-generals!" the commission has collectively an imposing appearance: the face of judge holt is swarthy; he questions with slow utterance, holding the witness in his cold, measuring eye. hunter, who sits at the opposite end of the table, shuts his eyes now and then, either to sleep or think, or both, and the other generals take a note or two, and watch for occasions to distinguish themselves. excepting judge holt, the court has shown as little ability as could be expected from soldiers, placed in unenviable publicity, and upon a duty for which they are disqualified, both by education and acumen. witness the lack of dignity in hunter, who opened the court by a coarse allusion to "humbug chivalry;" of lew. wallace, whose heat and intolerance were appropriately urged in the most exceptional english; of howe, whose tirade against the rebel general johnson was feeble as it was ungenerous! this court was needed to show us at least the petty tyranny of martial law and the pettiness of martial jurists. the counsel for the defence have just enough show to make the unfairness of the trial partake of hypocrisy, and the wideness of the subjects discussed makes one imagine that the object of the commission is to write a cyclopedia, and not to hang or acquit six or eight miserable wretches. letter ix. the executions. washington, friday, july 7th. the trial is over; four of the conspirators have paid with their lives the penalty of the great conspiracy; the rest go to the jail, and with one exception for the remainder of their lives. whatever our individual theories may be, the great crime is ended, and this is the crowning scene: it was a long and dusty avenue, along which rambled soldiers in bluishly white coats, cattle with their tongues out, straying from the herd, and a few negroes making for their cabins, which dotted the fiery and vacant lots of the suburbs. at the foot of this avenue, where a lukewarm river holds between its dividing arms a dreary edifice of brick, the way was filled with collected cabs, and elbowing people, abutting against a circle of sentinels who kept the arsenal gate. the low, flat, dust-white fields to the far left were also lined with patrols and soldiers lying on the ground in squads beside their stacked muskets. within these a second blue and monotonous line extended. the drive from the arsenal gate to the arsenal's high and steel-spiked wall was beset by companies of exacting sabremen, and all the river bank to the right was edged with blue and bayonets. this exhibition of war was the prelude to a very ghastly but very popular episode--an execution. three men and a woman were to be led out in shackles and hung to a beam. they had conspired to take life; they had thrilled the world with the partial consummation of their plot; they were to reach the last eminence of assassins, on this parched and oppressive noon, by swinging in pinioned arms and muffled faces in the presence of a thousand people. the bayonets at the gate were lifted as i produced my pass. it was the last permission granted. in giving it away the general seemed relieved, for he had been sorely troubled by applications. everybody who had visited washington to seek for an office, sought to see this expiation also. the officer at the gate looked at my pass suspiciously. "i don't believe that all these papers have been genuine," he said. is an execution, then, so great a warning to evil-doers, that men will commit forgery to see it? i entered a large grassy yard, surrounded by an exceedingly high wall. on the top of this wall, soldiers with muskets in their hands, were thickly planted. the yard below was broken by irregular buildings of brick. i climbed by a flight of rickety outside stairs to the central building, where many officers were seated at the windows, and looked awhile at the strange scene on the grassy plaza. on the left, the long, barred, impregnable penitentiary rose. the shady spots beneath it were occupied by huddling spectators. soldiers were filling their canteens at the pump. a face or two looked out from the barred jail. there were many umbrellas hoisted on the ground to shelter civilians beneath them. squads of officers and citizens lay along the narrow shadow of the walls. the north side of the yard was enclosed on three sides by columns of soldiers drawn up in regular order, the side next to the penitentiary being short to admit of ingress to the prisoner's door; but the opposite column reached entirely up to the north wall. within this enclosed area a structure to be inhabited by neither the living nor the dead was fast approaching completion. it stood gaunt, lofty, long. saws and hammers made dolorous music on it. men, in their shirt sleeves, were measuring it and directing its construction in a business way. now and then some one would ascend its airy stair to test its firmness; others crawled beneath to wedge its slim supports, or carry away the falling debris. toward this skeleton edifice all looked with a strange nervousness. it was the thought and speculation of the gravest and the gayest. it was the gallows. a beam reached, horizontally, in the air, twenty feet from the ground; four awkward ropes, at irregular intervals, dangled from it, each noosed at the end. it was upheld by three props, one in the center and one at each end. these props came all the way to the ground where they were morticed in heavy bars. midway of them a floor was laid, twenty by twelve feet, held in its position on the farther side by shorter props, of which there were many, and reached by fifteen creaking steps, railed on either side. but this floor had no supports on the side nearest the eye, except two temporary rods, at the foot of which two inclined beams pointed menacingly, held in poise by ropes from the gallows floor. and this floor was presently discovered to be a cheat, a trap, a pitfall. two hinges only held it to its firmer half. these were to give way at the fatal moment, and leave only the shallow and unreliable air for the bound and smothering to tread upon. the traps were two, sustained by two different props. the nooses were on each side of the central support. was this all? not all. close by the foot of the gallows four wooden boxes were piled upon each other at the edge of four newly excavated pits, the fresh earth of which was already dried and brittle in the burning noon. here were to be interred the broken carcasses when the gallows had let go its throttle. they were so placed as the victims should emerge from the gaol door they would be seen near the stair directly in the line of march. and not far from these, in silence and darkness beneath the prison where they had lain so long and so forbodingly, the body of john wilkes booth, sealed up in the brick floor, had long been mouldering. if the dead can hear he had listened many a time to the rattle of their manacles upon the stairs, to the drowsy hum of the trial and the buzz of the garrulous spectators; to the moaning, or the gibing, or the praying in the bolted cells where those whom kindred fate had given a little lease upon life lay waiting for the terrible pronouncement. it was a long waiting, and the roof of a high house outside the walls was seen to be densely packed with people. others kept arriving moment by moment; soldiers were wondering when the swinging would begin and officers arguing that the four folks "deserved it, damn them!" gentlemen of experience were telling over the number of such expiations they had witnessed. analytic people were comparing the various modes of shooting, garroting, and guillotining. cigars were sending up spirals of soothing smoke. there was a good deal of covert fear that a reprieve might be granted. inquires were many and ingenuous for whisky, and one or two were so deeply expectant that they fell asleep. how much those four dying, hoping, cringing, dreaming felons were grudged their little gasp of life! it was to be a scene, not a postponement or a prolongation. "who was to be the executioner?" "why had not the renowned and artistic isaacs been sent for from new york?" "would they probably die game, or grow weak-kneed in the last extremity?" ah, the gallows' workmen have completed the job! "now then we should have it." still there was delay. the sun peeped into the new-made graves and made blistering hot the gallows' floor. the old pump made its familiar music to the cool plash of blessed water. the grass withered in the fervid heat. the bronzed faces of the soldiers ran lumps of sweat. the file upon the jail walls looked down into the wide yard yawningly. no wind fluttered the two battle standards condemned to unfold their trophies upon this coming profanation. not yet arrived. why? the extent of grace has almost been attained. the sentence gave them only till two o'clock! why are they so dilatory in wishing to be hanged? suddenly the wicket opens, the troops spring to their feet, and stand at order arms, the flags go up, the low order passes from company to company; the spectators huddle a little nearer to the scaffold; all the writers for the press produce their pencils and note-books. first came a woman pinioned. a middle-aged woman, dressed in black, bonnetted and veiled, walking between two bare-headed priests. one of these held against his breast a crucifix of jet, and in the folds of his blue-fringed sash he carried an open breviary, while both of them muttered the service for the dead. four soldiers with musket at shoulder, followed, and a captain led the way to the gallows. the second party escorted a small and shambling german, whose head had a long white cap upon it, rendering more filthy his dull complexion, and upon whose feet the chains clanked as he slowly advanced, preceded by two officers, flanked by a lutheran clergyman, and followed, as his predecessor, by an armed squad. the third, preacher and party, clustered about a shabby boy, whose limbs tottered as he progressed. the fourth, walked in the shadow of a straight high stature, whose tawny hair and large blue eye were suggestive rather of the barbarian striding in his conqueror's triumph, than the assassin going to the gallows. all these, captives, priests, guards, and officers, nearly twenty in all, climbed slowly and solemnly the narrow steps; and upon four arm chairs, stretching across the stage in the rear of the traps, the condemned were seated with their spiritual attendants behind them. the findings and warrants were immediately read to the prisoners by general hartrauft in a quiet and respectful tone, an aid holding an umbrella over him meantime. these having been already published, and being besides very uninteresting to any body but the prisoners, were paid little heed to, all the spectators interesting themselves in the prisoners. there was a fortuitous delicacy in this distribution, the woman being placed farthest from the social and physical dirtiness of atzerott, and nearest the unblanched and manly physiognomy of payne. she was not so pale that the clearness of her complexion could not be seen, and the brightness of the sun made her vail quite transparent. her eyes were seen to be of a soft gray; her brown hair lay smoothly upon a full, square forehead; the contour of her face was comely, but her teeth had the imperfectness of those of most southern women, being few and irregular. until the lips were opened she did not reveal them. her figure was not quite full enough to be denominated buxom, yet had all the promise of venerable old age, had nature been permitted its due course. she was of the medium height, and modest--as what woman would not be under such searching survey? at first she was very feeble, and leaned her head upon alternate sides of her arm-chair in nervous spasms; but now and then, when a sort of wail just issued from her lips, the priest placed before her the crucifix to lull her fearful spirit. all the while the good fathers wigett and walter murmured their low, tender cadences, and now and then the woman's face lost its deadly fear, and took a bold, cognizable survey of the spectators. she wore a robe of dark woolen, no collar, and common shoes of black listing. her general expression was that of acute suffering, vanishing at times as if by the conjuration of her pride, and again returning in a paroxysm as she looked at the dreadful rope dangling before her. this woman, to whom, the priests have made their industrious moan, holding up the effigy of christ when their own appeals became of no avail, perched there in the lofty air, counting her breaths, counting the winkfuls of light, counting the final wrestles of her breaking heart, had been the belle of her section, and many good men had courted her hand. she had led a pleasant life, and children had been born to her--who shared her mediocre ambition and the invincibility of her will. if the charge of her guilt were proven, she was the lady macbeth of the west. but women know nothing of consequences. she alone of all her sex stands now in this thrilled and ghastly perspective, and in immediate association with three creatures in whose company it is no fame to die: a little crying boy, a greasy unkempt sniveller, and a confessed desperado. her base and fugitive son, to know the infamy of his cowardice and die of his shame, should have seen his mother writhing in her seat upon the throne his wickedness established for her. payne, the strangest criminal in our history, was alone dignified and self possessed. he wore a closely-fitting knit shirt, a sailor's straw hat tied with a ribbon, and dark pantaloons, but no shoes. his collar, cut very low, showed the tremendous muscularity of his neck, and the breadth of his breast was more conspicuous by the manner in which the pinioned arms thrust it forward. his height, his vigor, his glare made him the strong central figure of this interelementary tableaux. he said no word; his eyes were red as with the penitential weeping of a courageous man, and the smooth hardness of his skin seemed like a polished muscle. he did not look abroad inquisitively, nor within intuitively. he had no accusation, no despair, no dreaminess. he was only looking at death as for one long expected, and not a tremor nor a shock stirred his long stately limbs; withal, his blue eye was milder than when i saw him last, as if some bitterness, or stolidness, or obstinate pride had been exorcised, perhaps by the candor of confession. now and then he looked half-pityingly at the woman, and only once moved his lips, as if in supplication. few who looked at him, forgetful of his crime, did not respect him. he seemed to feel that no man was more than his peer, and one of his last commands was a word of regret to mr. seward. i have a doubt that this man is entirely a member of our nervous race. i believe that a fiber of the aboriginal runs through his tough sinews. at times he looked entirely an indian. his hair is tufted, and will not lie smoothly. his cheek-bones are large and high set. there is a tint in his complexion. perhaps the seminole blood of his swampy state left a trace of its combative nature there. payne was a preacher's son, and not the worst graduate of his class. his real name is lewis thornton powell. he died without taking the hand of any living friend. even the squalid atzerott was not so poor. i felt a pity for his physical rather than his vital or spiritual peril. it seemed a profanation to break the iron column of his neck, and give to the worm his belted chest. but i remember that he would have slain a sick old man. the third condemned, although whimpering, had far more grit than i anticipated; he was inquisitive and flippant-faced, and looked at the noose flaunting before him, and the people gathered below, and the haggard face of atzerott, as if entirely conscious and incapable of abstraction. harold would have enjoyed this execution vastly as a spectator. he was, i think, capable of a greater degree of depravity than any of his accomplices. atzerott might have made a sneak thief, booth a forger, but harold was not far from a professional pickpocket. he was keen-eyed, insolent, idle, and, by a small experience in houston street, would have been qualified for a first-class "knuck." he had not, like the rest, any political suggestion for the murder of the heads of the nation; and upon the gallows, in his dirty felt hat, soiled cloth coat, light pantaloons and stockings, he seemed unworthy of his manacles. a very fussy dutchman tied him up and fanned him, and he wept forgetfully, but did not make a halt or absurd spectacle. atzerott was my ideal of a man to be hung--a dilution of wallack's rendering of the last hours of fagan, the jew; a sort of sick man, quite garrulous and smitten, with his head thrown forward, muttering to the air, and a pallidness transparent through his dirt as he jabbered prayers and pleas confusedly, and looked in a complaining sort of way at the noose, as if not quite certain that it might not have designs upon him. he wore a greyish coat, black vest, light pantaloons and slippers, and a white affair on his head, perhaps a handkerchief. his spiritual adviser stood behind him, evidently disgusted with him. atzerott lost his life through too much gabbing. he could have had serious designs upon nothing greater than a chicken, but talked assassination with the silent and absolute booth, until entrapped into conspiracy and the gallows, much against his calculation. this man was visited by his mother and a poor, ignorant woman with whom he cohabited. he was the picture of despair, and died ridiculously, whistling up his courage. these were the dramatis personã¦, no more to be sketched, no more to be cross-examined, no more to be shackled, soon to be cold in their coffins. they were, altogether, a motley and miserable set. ravaillae might have looked well swinging in chains; charlotte corday is said to have died like an actress; beale hung not without dignity, but these people, aspiring to overturn a nation, bore the appearance of a troop of ignorant folks, expiating the blood-shed of a brawl. when general hartrauft ceased reading there was momentary lull, broken only by the cadences of the priests. then the rev. mr. gillette addressed the spectators in a deep impressive tone. the prisoner, lewis thornton powell, otherwise payne, requested him to thus publicly and sincerely return his thanks to general hartrauft, the other officers, the soldiers, and all persons who had charge of him and had attended him. not one unkind word, look, or gesture, had been given to him by any one. dr. gillette then followed in a fervent prayer in behalf of the prisoner, during which payne's eyes momentarily filled with tears, and he followed in the prayer with visible feeling. rev. dr. olds followed, saying in behalf of the prisoner, david e. harold, that he tendered his forgiveness to all who had wronged him, and asked the forgiveness of all whom he had wronged. he gave his thanks to the officers and guards for kindnesses rendered him. he hoped that he had died in charity with all men and at peace with god. dr. olds concluded with a feeling prayer for the prisoner. rev. dr. butler then made a similar return of thanks on behalf of george a. atzerott for kindness received from his guards and attendants, and concluded with an earnest invocation in behalf of the criminal, saying that the blood of jesus cleanses from all sin, and asking that god almighty might have mercy upon this man. the solemnity of this portion of the scene may be imagined, the several clergyman speaking in order the dying testament of their clients, and making the hot hours fresh with the soft harmonies of their benedictions. the two holy fathers having received mrs. surratt's confession, after the custom of their creed observed silence. in this, as in other respects, mrs. surratt's last hours were entirely modest and womanly. the stage was still filled with people; the crisis of the occasion had come; the chairs were all withdrawn, and the condemned stood upon their feet. the process of tying the limbs began. it was with a shudder, almost a blush, that i saw an officer gather the ropes tightly three times about the robes of mrs. surratt, and bind her ankles with cords. she half fainted, and sank backward upon the attendants, her limbs yielding to the extremity of her terror, but uttering no cry, only a kind of sick groaning, like one in the weakness of fever, when a wry medicine must be taken. payne, with his feet firmly laced together, stood straight as one of the scaffold beams, and braced himself up so stoutly that this in part prevented the breaking of his neck. harold stood well beneath the drop, still whimpering at the lips, but taut, and short, and boyish. atzerott, in his grovelling attitude, while they tied him began to indulge in his old vice of gabbing. he evidently wished to make his finale more effective than his previous cowardly role, and perhaps was strengthening his fortitude with a speech, as we sometimes do of dark nights with a whistle. "gentlemen," he said, with a sort of choke and gasp, "take ware." he evidently meant "beware," or "take care," and confounded them. again, when the white death-cap was drawn over his face, he continued to cry out under it, once saying, "good bye, shentlemens, who is before me now;" and again, "may we meet in the other world." finally he drifted away with low, half-intelligible ebullitions, as "god help me," "oh! oh!" and the like. the rest said nothing, except mrs. surratt, who asked to be supported, that she might not fall, but harold protested against the knot with which he was to be dislocated, it being as huge as one's double fist. in fact all the mechanical preparations were clumsy and inartistic, and the final scenes of the execution, therefore, revolting in the extreme. when the death-caps were all drawn over the faces of the prisoners, and they stood in line in the awful suspense between absolute life and immediate death, a man at the neck of each adjusting the cord, the knot beneath the ears of each protruded five or six inches, and the cord was so thick that it could not be made to press tightly against the flesh. so they stood, while nearly a thousand faces from window, roof, wall, yard and housetop, gazed, the scaffold behind them still densely packed with the assistants, and the four executioners beneath, standing at their swinging beams. the priests continued to murmur prayers. the people were dumb, as if each witness stood alone with none near by to talk to him. an instant this continued, while an officer on the plot before, motioned back the assistants, and then with a forward thrust of his hand, signaled the executioners. the great beams were darted against the props simultaneously. the two traps fell with a slam. the four bodies dropped like a single thing, outside the yet crowded remnant of the gallows floor, and swayed and turned, to and fro, here and there, forward and backward, and with many a helpless spasm, while the spectators took a little rush forward, and the ropes were taut as the struggling pulses of the dying. mrs. surratt's neck was broken immediately; she scarcely drew one breath. her short woman's figure, with the skirts looped closely about it, merely dangled by the vibration of her swift descent, and with the knot holding true under the ear, her head leaned sideways, and her pinioned arms seemed content with their confinement. payne died a horrible death; the knot slipped to the back of his neck, and bent his head forward on his breast, so that he strangled as he drew his deep chest almost to his chin, and the knees contracted till they almost seemed to touch his abdomen. the veins in his great wrists were like whip-cords, expanded to twice their natural dimensions, and the huge neck grew almost black with the dark blood that rushed in a flood to the circling rope. a long while he swayed and twisted and struggled, till at last nature ceased her rebellion and life went out unwillingly. harold also passed through some struggles. it is doubtful that his neck was broken. the perspiration dripped from his feet, and he swung in the hot noon just living enough to make death irritable. atzerott died easily. life did not care to fight for his possession. the two central figures lived long after the two upon the flanks. there they hung, bundles of carcass and old clothes, four in a row, and past all conspiracy or ambition, the river rolling by without a sound, and men watching them with a shiver, while the heat of the day seemed suddenly abated, as if by the sudden opening of a tomb. the officers conversed in a half-audible tone; the reporters put up their books; the assistants descended from the gallows; and the medical men drew near. no wind stirred the unbreathing bodies, they were stone dead. the bodies were allowed to hang about twenty minutes, when surgeon otis, u. s. v., and assistant surgeons woodward and porter, u. s. a., examined them and pronounced all dead. in about ten minutes more a ladder was placed against the scaffold preparatory to cutting the bodies down. an over-zealous soldier on the platform reached over and severed the cord, letting one body fall with a thump, when he was immediately ordered down and reprimanded. the body of atzerott was placed in a strong white pine box, and the other bodies cut down in the following order, harold, powell, and mrs. surratt. the carcasses thus recovered were given over to a squad of soldiers and each placed in a pine box without uncovering the faces. the boxes were forthwith placed in the pits prepared for them, and directly all but the memory of their offense passed from the recording daylight. in the gloomy shadow of that arsenal lies all the motive, and essay of a crime which might have changed the destinies of our race. it will be forever a place of suspicion and marvel, the haunted spot of the capitol, and the terror of all who to end a fancied evil, cut their way to right with a dagger. extra mural scenes. as everything connected with this expiation will be greedily read i compile from gossip and report a statement of the last intramural hours of the prisoners. during the morning a female friend of atzerott, from port tobacco, had an interview with him--she leaving him about eleven o'clock. he made the following statement: he took a room at the kirkwood house on thursday, in order to get a pass from vice-president johnson to go to richmond. booth was to lease the richmond theater and the president was to be invited to attend it when visiting richmond, and captured there. harold brought the pistol and knife to the room about half-past two o'clock on friday. he (atzerott) said he would have nothing to do with the murder of johnson, when booth said that harold had more courage than atzerott, and he wanted atzerott to be with harold to urge him to do it. there was a meeting at a restaurant about the middle of march, at which john surratt, o'laughlin, booth, arnold, payne, harold and himself were present, when a plan to capture the president was discussed. they had heard the president was to visit a camp, and they proposed to capture him, coach and all, drive through long old fields to "t. b.," where the coach was to be left and fresh horses were to be got, and the party would proceed to the river to take a boat. harold took a buggy to "t. b." in anticipation that mr. lincoln would be captured, and he was to go with the party to the river. slavery had put him on the side of the south. he had heard it preached in church that the curse of god was upon the slaves, for they were turned black. he always hated the nigger and felt that they should be kept in ignorance. he had not received any money from booth, although he had been promised that if they were successful they should never want, that they would be honored throughout the south, and that they could secure an exchange of prisoners and the recognition of the confederacy. harold slept well several hours, but most of the night he was sitting up, either engaged with his pastor, rev. mr. olds, of christ church, or in prayer. his sisters were with him from an early hour this morning to twelve o'clock; they being present when he partook of the sacrament at the hands of dr. olds. the parting was particularly affecting. harold conversed freely with them, and expressed himself prepared to die. powell conversed with dr. gillette and dr. striker on religious topics during the morning, sitting erect, as he did in the court-room. from his conversation it appears that he was raised religiously, and belonged to the baptist church until after the breaking out of the rebellion. he appeared to be sincerely repentant, and in his cell shed tears freely. he gave his advisers several commissions of a private character, and stated that he was willing to meet his god, asking all men to forgive, and forgiving all who had done aught against him. colonel doster, his counsel, also took leave of him during the morning, as well as with atzerott. mrs. surratt's daughter was with her at an early hour. one of her male friends also had an interview with her, and received directions concerning the disposition of her property. during the night and morning she received the ministrations of revs. j. a. walter and b. f. wigett, and conversed freely with them, expressing, while protesting her innocence, her willingness to meet her god. her counsel, messrs. aiken & clampitt, took leave of her during the morning. a singular feature of this execution was the arrest of general hancock this morning, who appeared in court, to answer a writ of _habeas corpus_, with a full staff. it is well to notice that this execution by military order has not, therefore, passed without civil protest. president johnson extended to general hancock the right conferred upon the president by congress of setting aside the _habeas corpus_. as usual in such executions as this, there were many stirring outside episodes, and much shrewd mixture of tragedy and business. a photographer took note of the scene in all its phases, from a window of a portion of the jail. six artists were present, and thirty seven special correspondents, who came to washington only for this occasion. the passes to the execution were written not printed, and, excepting the bungling mechanism of the scaffold, the sorrowful event went off with more than usual good order. every body feels relieved to night, because half of the crime is buried. on monday, mudd, arnold, o'laughlin, and spangler, will go northward to prison. the three former for life, the last for six years. applications for pardon were made yesterday and to-day to president johnson, by mrs. samuel mudd, who is quite woe-begone and disappointed, in behalf of her husband, by the sisters of harold, and by miss ann surratt. harold's sisters, dressed in full mourning and heavily veiled, made their appearance at the white house, for the purpose of interceding with the president in behalf of their brother. failing to see the president, they addressed a note to mrs. johnson, and expressed a hope that she would not turn a deaf ear to their pleadings. mrs. johnson being quite sick, it was deemed expedient by the ushers not to deliver the note, when, as a last expedient, the ladies asked permission to forward a note to mrs. patterson, the president's daughter, which privilege was not granted, as mrs. patterson is also quite indisposed to-day. the poor girls went away with their last hope shattered. the misery of the pretty and heart-broken daughter of mrs. surratt is the talk of the city. this girl appears to have loved her mother with all the petulant passion of a child. she visited her constantly, and to-day made so stirring an effort to obtain her life that her devotion takes half the disgrace from the mother. she got the priests to speak in her behalf. early to-day she knelt in the cell at her mother's feet, and sobbed, with now and then a pitiful scream till the gloomy corridors rang. she endeavored to win from payne a statement that her mother was not accessory, and, as a last resort, flung herself upon the steps of the white-house, and made that portal memorable by her filial tears. about half-past 8 o'clock this morning, miss surratt, accompanied by a female friend, again visited the white-house, for the purpose of obtaining an interview with the president. the latter having given orders that he would receive no one to-day, the door-keeper stopped miss surratt at the foot of the steps leading up to the president's office, and would not permit her to proceed further. she then asked permission to see general muzzy, the president's military secretary, who promptly answered the summons, and came down stairs where miss surratt was standing. as soon as the general made his appearance, miss surratt threw herself upon her knees before him, and catching him by the coat, with loud sobs and streaming eyes, implored him to assist her in obtaining a hearing with the president. general muzzy, in as tender a manner as possible, informed miss surratt that he could not comply with her request, as president johnson's orders were imperative, and he would receive no one. upon general muzzy returning to his office, miss surratt threw herself upon the stair steps, where she remained a considerable length of time, sobbing aloud in the greatest anguish, protesting her mother's innocence, and imploring every one who came near her to intercede in her mother's behalf. while thus weeping she declared her mother was too good and kind to be guilty of the enormous crime of which she was convicted, and asserted that if her mother was put to death she wished to die also. she was finally allowed to sit in the east room, where she lay in wait for all who entered, hoping to make them efficacious in her behalf, all the while uttering her weary heart in a woman's touching cries: but at last, certain of disappointment, she drove again to the jail and lay in her mother's cell, with the heavy face of one who brings ill-news. the parting will consecrate those gloomy walls. the daughter saw the mother pinioned and kissed her wet face as she went shuddering to the scaffold. the last words of mrs. surratt, as she went out of the jail, were addressed to a gentleman whom she had known. "good-bye, take care of annie." to-night there is crape on the door of the surratt's, and a lonely lamp shines at a single window, where the sad orphan is thinking of her bereavement. the bodies of the dead have been applied for but at present will not given up. judge holt was petitioned all last night for the lives and liberties of the condemned, but he was inexorable. the soldiers who hung the condemned were appointed against their will. i forbear to give their names as they do not wish the repute of executioners. they all belonged to the fourteenth veteran reserve infantry. here endeth the story of this tragedy upon a tragedy. all are glad that it is done. i am glad particularly. it has cost me how many journeying to washington, how many hot midnights at the telegraph office, how many gallops into wild places, and how much revolting familiarity with blood. the end has come. the slain, both good and evil, are in their graves, out of the reach of hangman and assassin. only the correspondent never dies. he is the true pantheist--going out of nature for a week, but bursting forth afresh in a day, and so insinuating himself into the history of our era that it is beginning to be hard to find out where the event ends and the writer begins. next week ford's theater opens with the "octoroon." the gas will be pearly as ever; the scenes as rich. the blood-stained foot-lights will flash as of old upon merry and mimicking faces. so the world has its tragic ebullitions; but its real career is comedy. over the graves of the good and the scaffolds of the evil, sits the leering momus across whose face death sometimes brings sleep, but never a wrinkle. version by al haines. the quest of the sacred slipper by sax rohmer contents i. the phantom scimitar. ii. the girl with the violet eyes iii. "hassan of aleppo" iv. the oblong box v. the occupant of the box vi. the ring of the prophet vii. first attempt on the safe viii. the violet eyes again ix. second attempt on the safe x. at the british antiquarian museum xi. the hole in the blind xii. the hashishin watch xiii. the white beam xiv. a scream in the night xv. a shrivelled hand xvi. the dwarf xvii. the woman with the basket xviii. what came through the window xix. a rapping at midnight xx. the golden pavilion xxi. the black tube xxii. the light of el-medineh xxiii. the three messages xxiv. i keep the appointment xxv. the watcher in bank chambers xxvi. the strong-room xxvii. the slipper xxviii. carneta xxix. we meet mr. isaacs xxx. at the gate house xxxi. the pool of death xxxii. six patches xxxiii. how we were reenforced xxxiv. my last meeting with hassan of aleppo the quest of the sacred slipper chapter i the phantom scimitar i was not the only passenger aboard the s.s. mandalay who perceived the disturbance and wondered what it might portend and from whence proceed. a goodly number of passengers were joining the ship at port said. i was lounging against the rail, pipe in mouth, lazily wondering, with a large vagueness. what a heterogeneous rabble it was!--a brightly coloured rabble, but the colours all were dirty, like the town and the canal. only the sky was clean; the sky and the hard, merciless sunlight which spared nothing of the uncleanness, and defied one even to think of the term dear to tourists, "picturesque." i was in that kind of mood. all the natives appeared to be pockmarked; all the europeans greasy with perspiration. but what was the stir about? i turned to the dark, bespectacled young man who leaned upon the rail beside me. from the first i had taken to mr. ahmad ahmadeen. "there is some kind of undercurrent of excitement among the natives," i said, "a sort of subdued greek chorus is audible. what's it all about?" mr. ahmadeen smiled. after a gaunt fashion, he was a handsome man and had a pleasant smile. "probably," he replied, "some local celebrity is joining the ship." i stared at him curiously. "any idea who he is?" (the soul of the copyhunter is a restless soul.) a group of men dressed in semi-european fashion--that is, in european fashion save for their turbans, which were green--passed close to us along the deck. ahmadeen appeared not to have heard the question. the disturbance, which could only be defined as a subdued uproar, but could be traced to no particular individual or group, grew momentarily louder--and died away. it was only when it had completely ceased that one realized how pronounced it had been--how altogether peculiar, secret; like that incomprehensible murmuring in a bazaar when, unknown to the insular visitor, a reputed saint is present. then it happened; the inexplicable incident which, though i knew it not, heralded the coming of strange things, and the dawn of a new power; which should set up its secret standards in england, which should flood europe and the civilized world with wonder. a shrill scream marked the overture--a scream of fear and of pain, which dropped to a groan, and moaned out into the silence of which it was the cause. "my god! what's that?" i started forward. there was a general crowding rush, and a darkly tanned and bearded man came on board, carrying a brown leather case. behind him surged those who bore the victim. "it's one of the lascars!" "no--an egyptian!" "it was a porter--?" "what is it--?" "someone been stabbed!" "where's the doctor?" "stand away there, if you please!" that was a ship's officer; and the voice of authority served to quell the disturbance. through a lane walled with craning heads they bore the insensible man. ahmadeen was at my elbow. "a copt," he said softly. "poor devil!" i turned to him. there was a queer expression on his lean, clean-shaven, bronze face. "good god!" i said. "his hand has been cut off!" that was the fact of the matter. and no one knew who was responsible for the atrocity. and no one knew what had become of the severed hand! i wasted not a moment in linking up the story. the pressman within me acted automatically. "the gentleman just come aboard, sir," said a steward, "is professor deeping. the poor beggar who was assaulted was carrying some of the professor's baggage." the whole incident struck me as most odd. there was an idea lurking in my mind that something else--something more--lay behind all this. with impatience i awaited the time when the injured man, having received medical attention, was conveyed ashore, and professor deeping reappeared. to the celebrated traveller and oriental scholar i introduced myself. he was singularly reticent. "i was unable to see what took place, mr. cavanagh," he said. "the poor fellow was behind me, for i had stepped from the boat ahead of him. i had just taken a bag from his hand, but he was carrying another, heavier one. it is a clean cut, like that of a scimitar. i have seen very similar wounds in the cases of men who have suffered the old moslem penalty for theft." nothing further had come to light when the mandalay left, but i found new matter for curiosity in the behaviour of the moslem party who had come on board at port said. in conversation with mr. bell, the chief officer, i learned that the supposed leader of the party was one, mr. azraeel. "obviously," said bell, "not his real name or not all it. i don't suppose they'll show themselves on deck; they've got their own servants with them, and seem to be people of consequence." this conversation was interrupted, but i found my unseen fellow voyagers peculiarly interesting and pursued inquiries in other directions. i saw members of the distinguished travellers' retinue going about their duties, but never obtained a glimpse of mr. azraeel nor of any of his green-turbaned companions. "who is mr. azraeel?" i asked ahmadeen. "i cannot say," replied the egyptian, and abruptly changed the subject. some curious aroma of mystery floated about the ship. ahmadeen conveyed to me the idea that he was concealing something. then, one night, mr. bell invited me to step forward with him. "listen," he said. from somewhere in the fo'c'sle proceeded low chanting. "hear it?" "yes. what the devil is it?" "it's the lascars," said bell. "they have been behaving in a most unusual manner ever since the mysterious mr. azraeel joined us. i may be wrong in associating the two things, but i shan't be sorry to see the last of our mysterious passengers." the next happening on board the mandalay which i have to record was the attempt to break open the door of professor deeping's stateroom. except when he was actually within, the professor left his room door religiously locked. he made light of the affair, but later took me aside and told me a curious story of an apparition which had appeared to him. "it was a crescent of light," he said, "and it glittered through the darkness there to the left as i lay in my berth." "a reflection from something on the deck?" deeping smiled, uneasily. "possibly," he replied; "but it was very sharply defined. like the blade of a scimitar," he added. i stared at him, my curiosity keenly aroused. "does any explanation suggest itself to you?" i said. "well," he confessed, "i have a theory, i will admit; but it is rather going back to the middle ages. you see, i have lived in the east a lot; perhaps i have assimilated some of their superstitions." he was oddly reticent, as ever. i felt convinced that he was keeping something back. i could not stifle the impression that the clue to these mysteries lay somewhere around the invisible mohammedan party. "do you know," said bell to me, one morning, "this trip's giving me the creeps. i believe the damned ship's haunted! three bells in the middle watch last night, i'll swear i saw some black animal crawling along the deck, in the direction of the forward companion-way." "cat?" i suggested. "nothing like it," said mr. bell. "mr. cavanagh, it was some uncanny thing! i'm afraid i can't explain quite what i mean, but it was something i wanted to shoot!" "where did it go?" the chief officer shrugged his shoulders. "just vanished," he said. "i hope i don't see it again." at tilbury the mohammedan party went ashore in a body. among them were veiled women. they contrived so to surround a central figure that i entirely failed to get a glimpse of the mysterious mr. azraeel. ahmadeen was standing close by the companion-way, and i had a momentary impression that one of the women slipped something into his hand. certainly, he started; and his dusky face seemed to pale. then a deck steward came out of deeping's stateroom, carrying the brown bag which the professor had brought aboard at port said. deeping's voice came: "hi, my man! let me take that bag!" the bag changed hands. five minutes later, as i was preparing to go ashore, arose a horrid scream above the berthing clamour. those passengers yet aboard made in the direction from which the scream had proceeded. a steward--the one to whom professor deeping had spoken--lay writhing at the foot of the stairs leading to the saloon-deck. his right hand had been severed above the wrist! chapter ii the girl with the violet eyes during the next day or two my mind constantly reverted to the incidents of the voyage home. i was perfectly convinced that the curtain had been partially raised upon some fantasy in which professor deeping figured. but i had seen no more of deeping nor had i heard from him, when abruptly i found myself plunged again into the very vortex of his troubled affairs. i was half way through a long article, i remember, upon the mystery of the outrage at the docks. the poor steward whose hand had been severed lay in a precarious condition, but the police had utterly failed to trace the culprit. i had laid down my pen to relight my pipe (the hour was about ten at night) when a faint sound from the direction of the outside door attracted my attention. something had been thrust through the letter-box. "a circular," i thought, when the bell rang loudly, imperatively. i went to the door. a square envelope lay upon the mat--a curious envelope, pale amethyst in colour. picking it up, i found it to bear my name--written simply-"mr. cavanagh." tearing it open i glanced at the contents. i threw open the door. no one was visible upon the landing, but when i leaned over the banister a white-clad figure was crossing the hall, below. without hesitation, hatless, i raced down the stairs. as i crossed the dimly lighted hall and came out into the peaceful twilight of the court, my elusive visitor glided under the archway opposite. just where the dark and narrow passage opened on to fleet street i overtook her--a girl closely veiled and wrapped in a long coat of white ermine. "madam," i said. she turned affrightedly. "please do not detain me!" her accent was puzzling, but pleasing. she glanced apprehensively about her. you have seen the moon through a mist?--and known it for what it was in spite of its veiling? so, now, through the cloudy folds of the veil, i saw the stranger's eyes, and knew them for the most beautiful eyes i had ever seen, had ever dreamt of. "but you must explain the meaning of your note!" "i cannot! i cannot! please do not ask me!" she was breathless from her flight and seemed to be trembling. from behind the cloud her eyes shone brilliantly, mysteriously. i was sorely puzzled. the whole incident was bizarre--indeed, it had in it something of the uncanny. yet i could not detain the girl against her will. that she went in apprehension of something, of someone, was evident. past the head of the passage surged the noisy realities of fleet street. there were men there in quest of news; men who would have given much for such a story as this in which i was becoming entangled. yet a story more tantalizingly incomplete could not well be imagined. i knew that i stood upon the margin of an arena wherein strange adversaries warred to a strange end. but a mist was over all. here, beside me, was one who could disperse the mist--and would not. her one anxiety seemed to be to escape. suddenly she raised her veil; and i looked fully into the only really violet eyes i had ever beheld. mentally, i started. for the face framed in the snowy fur was the most bewitchingly lovely imaginable. one rebellious lock of wonderful hair swept across the white brow. it was brown hair, with an incomprehensible sheen in the high lights that suggested the heart of a blood-red rose. "oh," she cried, "promise me that you will never breathe a word to any one about my visit!" "i promise willingly," i said; "but can you give me no hint?" "honestly, truly, i cannot, dare not, say more! only promise that you will do as i ask!" since i could perceive no alternative-"i will do so," i replied. "thank you--oh, thank you!" she said; and dropping her veil again she walked rapidly away from me, whispering, "i rely upon you. do not fail me. good-bye!" her conspicuous white figure joined the hurrying throngs upon the pavement beyond. my curiosity brooked no restraint. i hurried to the end of the courtway. she was crossing the road. from the shadows where he had lurked, a man came forward to meet her. a vehicle obstructed the view ere i could confirm my impression; and when it had passed, neither my lovely visitor nor her companion were anywhere in sight. but, unless some accident of light and shade had deceived me, the man who had waited was ahmad ahmadeen! it seemed that some astral sluice-gate was raised; a dreadful sense of foreboding for the first time flooded my mind. whilst the girl had stood before me it had been different--the mysterious charm of her personality had swamped all else. but now, the messenger gone, it was the purport of her message which assumed supreme significance. written in odd, square handwriting upon the pale amethyst paper, this was the message- prevail upon professor deeping to place what he has in the brown case in the porch of his house to-night. if he fails to do so, no power on earth can save him from the scimitar of hassan. a friend. chapter iii "hassan of aleppo" professor deeping's number was in the telephone directory, therefore, on returning to my room, where there still lingered the faint perfume of my late visitor's presence, i asked for his number. he proved to be at home. "strange you should ring me up, cavanagh," he said; "for i was about to ring you up." "first," i replied, "listen to the contents of an anonymous letter which i have received." (i remembered, and only just in time, my promise to the veiled messenger.) "to me," i added, having read him the note, "it seems to mean nothing. i take it that you understand better than i do." "i understand very well, cavanagh!" he replied. "you will recall my story of the scimitar which flashed before me in the darkness of my stateroom on the mandalay? well, i have seen it again! i am not an imaginative man: i had always believed myself to possess the scientific mind; but i can no longer doubt that i am the object of a pursuit which commenced in mecca! the happenings on the steamer prepared me for this, in a degree. when the man lost his hand at port said i doubted. i had supposed the days of such things past. the attempt to break into my stateroom even left me still uncertain. but the outrage upon the steward at the docks removed all further doubt. i perceived that the contents of a certain brown leather case were the objective of the crimes." i listened in growing wonder. "it was not necessary in order to further the plan of stealing the bag that the hands were severed," resumed the professor. "in fact, as was rendered evident by the case of the steward, this was a penalty visited upon any one who touched it! you are thinking of my own immunity?" "i am!" "this is attributable to two things. those who sought to recover what i had in the case feared that my death en route might result in its being lost to them for ever. they awaited a suitable opportunity. they had designed to take it at port said certainly, i think; but the bag was too large to be readily concealed, and, after the outrage, might have led to the discovery of the culprit. in the second place, they are uncertain of my faith. i have long passed for a true believer in the east! as a moslem i visited mecca--" "you visited mecca!" "i had just returned from the hadj when i joined the mandalay at port said! my death, however, has been determined upon, whether i be moslem or christian!" "why?" "because," came the professor's harsh voice over the telephone, "of the contents of the brown leather case! i will not divulge to you now the nature of these contents; to know might endanger you. but the case is locked in my safe here, and the key, together with a full statement of the true facts of the matter, is hidden behind the first edition copy of my book 'assyrian mythology,' in the smaller bookcase--" "why do you tell me all this?" i interrupted. he laughed harshly. "the identity of my pursuer has just dawned upon me," he said. "i know that my life is in real danger. i would give up what is demanded of me, but i believe its possession to be my strongest safeguard." mystery upon mystery! i seemed to be getting no nearer to the heart of this maze. what in heaven's name did it all mean? suddenly an idea struck me. "is our late fellow passenger, mr. ahmadeen, connected with the matter?" i asked. "in no way," replied deeping earnestly. "mr. ahmadeen is, i believe, a person of some consequence in the moslem world; but i have nothing to fear from him." "what steps have you taken to protect yourself?" again the short laugh reached my ears. "i'm afraid long residence in the east has rendered me something of a fatalist, cavanagh! beyond keeping my door locked, i have taken no steps whatever. i fear i am quite accessible!" a while longer we talked; and with every word the conviction was more strongly borne in upon me that some uncanny menace threatened the peace, perhaps the life, of professor deeping. i had hung up the receiver scarce a moment when, acting upon a sudden determination, i called up new scotland yard, and asked for detective-inspector bristol, whom i knew well. a few words were sufficient keenly to arouse his curiosity, and he announced his intention of calling upon me immediately. he was in charge of the case of the severed hand. i made no attempt to resume work in the interval preceding his arrival. i had not long to wait, however, ere bristol was ringing my bell; and i hurried to the door, only too glad to confide in one so well equipped to analyze my doubts and fears. for bristol is no ordinary policeman, but a trained observer, who, when i first made his acquaintance, completely upset my ideas upon the mental limitations of the official detective force. in appearance bristol suggests an anglo-indian officer, and at the time of which i write he had recently returned from jamaica and his face was as bronzed as a sailor's. one would never take bristol for a detective. as he seated himself in the armchair, without preamble i plunged into my story. he listened gravely. "what sort of house is professor deeping's?" he asked suddenly. "i have no idea," i replied, "beyond the fact that it is somewhere in dulwich." "may i use your telephone?" "certainly." very quickly bristol got into communication with the superintendent of p division. a brief delay, and the man came to the telephone whose beat included the road wherein professor deeping's house was situated. "why!" said bristol, hanging up the receiver after making a number of inquiries, "it's a sort of rambling cottage in extensive grounds. there's only one servant, a manservant, and he sleeps in a detached lodge. if the professor is really in danger of attack he could not well have chosen a more likely residence for the purpose!" "what shall you do? what do you make of it all?" "as i see the case," he said slowly, "it stands something like this: professor deeping has..." the telephone bell began to ring. i took up the receiver. "hullo! hullo." "cavanagh!--is that cavanagh?" "yes! yes! who is that?" "deeping! i have rung up the police, and they are sending some one. but i wish..." his voice trailed off. the sound of a confused and singular uproar came to me. "hullo!" i cried. "hullo!" a shriek--a deathful, horrifying cry--and a distant babbling alone answered me. there was a crash. clearly, deeping had dropped the receiver. i suppose my face blanched. "what is it?" asked bristol anxiously. "god knows what it is!" i said. "deeping has met with some mishap--" when, over the wires-"hassan of aleppo!" came a dying whisper. "hassan ... of aleppo..." chapter iv the oblong box "you had better wait for us," said bristol to the taxi-man. "very good, sir. but i shan't be able to take you further back than the brixton garage. you can get another cab there, though." a clock chimed out--an old-world chime in keeping with the loneliness, the curiously remote loneliness, of the locality. less than five miles from st. paul's are spots whereto, with the persistence of damascus attar, clings the aroma of former days. this iron gateway fronting the old chapel was such a spot. just within stood a plain-clothes man, who saluted my companion respectfully. "professor deeping," i began. the man, with a simple gesture, conveyed the dreadful news. "dead! dead!" i cried incredulously. he glanced at bristol. "the most mysterious case i have ever had anything to do with, sir," he said. the power of speech seemed to desert me. it was unthinkable that deeping, with whom i had been speaking less than an hour ago, should now be no more; that some malign agency should thus murderously have thrust him into the great borderland. in that kind of silence which seems to be peopled with whispering spirits we strode forward along the elm avenue. it was very dark where the moon failed to penetrate. the house, low and rambling, came into view, its facade bathed in silver light. two of the visible windows were illuminated. a sort of loggia ran along one side. on our left, as we made for this, lay a black ocean of shrubbery. it intruded, raggedly, upon the weed-grown path, for neglect was the keynote of the place. we entered the cottage, crossed the tiny lobby, and came to the study. a man, evidently deeping's servant, was sitting in a chair by the door, his head sunken in his hands. he looked up, haggard-faced. "my god! my god!" he groaned. "he was locked in, gentlemen! he was locked in; and yet something murdered him!" "what do you mean?" said bristol. "where were you?" "i was away on an errand, sir. when i returned, the police were knocking the door down. he was locked in!" we passed him, entering the study. it was a museum-like room, lighted by a lamp on the littered table. at first glance it looked as though some wild thing had run amok there. the disorder was indescribable. "touched nothing, of course?" asked bristol sharply of the officer on duty. "nothing, sir. it's just as we found it when we forced the door." "why did you force the door?" "he rung us up at the station and said that something or somebody had got into the house. it was evident the poor gentleman's nerve had broken down, sir. he said he was locked in his study. when we arrived it was all in darkness--but we thought we heard sounds in here." "what sort of sounds?" "something crawling about!" bristol turned. "key is in the lock on the inside of the door," he said. "is that where you found it?" "yes, sir!" he looked across to where the brass knob of a safe gleamed dully. "safe locked?" "yes, sir." professor deeping lay half under the table, a spectacle so ghastly that i shall not attempt to describe it. "merciful heavens!" whispered bristol. "he's nearly decapitated!" i clutched dizzily at the mantelpiece. it was all so utterly, incredibly horrible. how had deeping met his death? the windows both were latched and the door had been locked from within! "you searched for the murderer, of course?" asked bristol. "you can see, sir," replied the officer, "that there isn't a spot in the room where a man could hide! and there was nobody in here when we forced the door!" "why!" cried my companion suddenly. "the professor has a chisel in his hand!" "yes. i think he must have been trying to prise open that box yonder when he was attacked." bristol and i looked, together, at an oblong box which lay upon the floor near the murdered man. it was a kind of small packing case, addressed to professor deeping, and evidently had not been opened. "when did this arrive?" asked bristol. lester, the professor's man, who had entered the room, replied shakily-"it came by carrier, sir, just before i went out." "was he expecting it?" "i don't think so." inspector bristol and the officer dragged the box fully into the light. it was some three feet long by one foot square, and solidly constructed. "it is perfectly evident," remarked bristol, "that the murderer stayed to search for--" "the key of the safe!" "exactly. if the men really heard sounds here, it would appear that the assassin was still searching at that time." "i assure you," the officer interrupted, "that there was no living thing in the room when we entered." bristol and i looked at one another in horrified wonder. "it's incomprehensible!" he said. "see if the key is in the place mentioned by the professor, mr. cavanagh, whilst i break the box." i went to a great, open bookcase, which the frantic searcher seemed to have overlooked. removing the bulky "assyrian mythology," there, behind the volume, lay an envelope, containing a key, and a short letter. not caring to approach more closely to the table and to that which lay beneath it, i was peering at the small writing, in the semi-gloom by the bookcase, when bristol cried-"this box is unopenable by ordinary means! i shall have to smash it!" at his words, i joined him where he knelt on the floor. mysteriously, the chest had defied all his efforts. "there's a pick-axe in the garden," volunteered lester. "shall i bring it?" "yes." the man ran off. "i see the key is safe," said bristol. "possibly the letter may throw some light upon all this." "let us hope so," i replied. "you might read it." he took the letter from my hand, stepped up to the table, and by the light of the lamp read as follows-my dear cavanagh,-it has now become apparent to me that my life is in imminent danger. you know of the inexplicable outrages which marked my homeward journey, and if this letter come to your hand it will be because these have culminated in my death. the idea of a pursuing scimitar is not new to me. this phenomenon, which i have now witnessed three times, is fairly easy of explanation, but its significance is singular. it is said to be one of the devices whereby the hashishin warn those whom they have marked down for destruction, and is called, in the east, "the scimitar of hassan." the hashishin were the members of a moslem secret society, founded in 1090 by one hassan of khorassan. there is a persistent tradition in parts of the orient that this sect still flourishes in assyria, under the rule of a certain hassan of aleppo, the sheikh-al-jebal, or supreme lord of the hashishin. my careful inquiries, however, at the time that i was preparing matter for my "assyrian mythology," failed to discover any trace of such a person or such a group. i accordingly assumed hassan to be a myth--a first cousin to the ginn. i was wrong. he exists. and by my supremely rash act i have incurred his vengeance, for hassan of aleppo is the self-appointed guardian of the traditions and relics of mohammed. and i have stolen one of the holy slippers of the prophet! he, with some of his servants, has followed me from mecca to england. my precautions have enabled me to retain the relic, but you have seen what fate befell all those others who even touched the receptacle containing it. if i fall a victim to the hashishin, i am uncertain how you, as my confidant, will fare. therefore i have locked the slipper in my safe and to you entrust the key. i append particulars of the lock combination; but i warn you--do not open the safe. if their wrath be visited upon you, your possession of the key may prove a safeguard. take the copy of "assyrian mythology." you will find in it all that i learned respecting the hashishin. if i am doomed to be assassinated, it may aid you; if not in avenging me, in saving others from my fate. i fear i shall never see you again. a cloud of horror settles upon me like a pall. do not touch the slipper, nor the case containing it. edward deeping. "it is almost incredible!" i said hoarsely. bristol returned the letter to me without a word, and turning to lester, who had reentered carrying a heavy pick-axe, he attacked the oblong box with savage energy. through the house of death the sound of the blows echoed and rang with a sort of sacrilegious mockery. the box fell to pieces. "my god! look, sir!" lester was the trembling speaker. the box, i have said, was but three feet long by one foot square, and had clearly defied poor deeping's efforts to open it. but a crescent-shaped knife, wet with blood, lay within! chapter v the occupant of the box dimly to my ears came the ceaseless murmur of london. the night now was far advanced, and not a sound disturbed the silence of the court below my windows. professor deeping's "assyrian mythology" lay open before me, beside it my notebook. a coal dropped from the fire, and i half started up out of my chair. my nerves were all awry, and i had more than my horrible memories of the murdered man to thank for it. let me explain what i mean. when, after assisting, or endeavouring to assist, bristol at his elaborate inquiries, i had at last returned to my chambers, i had become the victim of a singular delusion--though one common enough in the case of persons whose nerves are overwrought. i had thought myself followed. during the latter part of my journey i found myself constantly looking from the little window at the rear of the cab. i had an impression that some vehicle was tracking us. then, when i discharged the man and walked up the narrow passage to the court, it was fear of a skulking form that dodged from shadow to shadow which obsessed me. finally, as i entered the hall and mounted the darkened stair, from the first landing i glanced down into the black well beneath. blazing yellow eyes, i thought, looked up at me! i will confess that i leapt up the remaining flight of stairs to my door, and, safely within, found myself trembling as if with a palsy. when i sat down to write (for sleep was an impossible proposition) i placed my revolver upon the table beside me. i cannot say why. it afforded me some sense of protection, i suppose. my conclusions, thus far, amounted to the following-the apparition of the phantom scimitar was due to the presence of someone who, by means of the moonlight, or of artificial light, cast a reflection of such a weapon as that found in the oblong chest upon the wall of a darkened apartment--as, deeping's stateroom on the mandalay, his study, etc. a group of highly efficient assassins, evidently moslem fanatics, who might or might not be of the ancient order of the hashishin, had pursued the stolen slipper to england. they had severed any hand, other than that of a believer, which had touched the case containing it. (the coptic porter was a christian.) uncertain, possibly, of deeping's faith, or fearful of endangering the success of their efforts by an outrage upon him en route, they had refrained from this until his arrival at his house. he had been warned of his impending end by ahmad ahmadeen. who was ahmadeen? and who was his beautiful associate? i found myself unable, at present, to answer either of those questions. in order to gain access to professor deeping, who so carefully secluded himself, a box had been sent to him by ordinary carrier. (as i sat at my table, scotland yard was busy endeavouring to trace the sender.) respecting this box we had made an extraordinary discovery. it was of the kind used by eastern conjurors for what is generally known as "the box trick." that is to say, it could only be opened (short of smashing it) from the inside! you will remember what we found within it? consider this with the new fact, above, and to what conclusion do you come? something (it is not possible to speak of someone in connection with so small a box) had been concealed inside, and had killed professor deeping whilst he was actually engaged in endeavouring to force it open. this inconceivable creature had then searched the study for the slipper--or for the key of the safe. interrupted and trapped by the arrival of the police, the creature had returned to the box, re-closed it, and had actually been there when the study was searched! for a creature so small as the murderous thing in the box to slip out during the confusion, and at some time prior to bristol's arrival, was no difficult matter. the inspector and i were certain that these were the facts. but what was this creature? i turned to the chapter in "assyrian mythology"--"the tradition of the hashishin." the legends which the late professor deeping had collected relative to this sect of religious murderers were truly extraordinary. of the cult's extinction at the time of writing he was clearly certain, but he referred to the popular belief, or moslem legend, that, since hassan of khorassan, there had always been a sheikh-al-jebal, and that a dreadful being known as hassan of aleppo was the present holder of the title. he referred to the fact that de sacy has shown the word assassin to be derived from hashishin, and quoted el-idrisi to the same end. the hashishin performed their murderous feats under the influence of hashish, or indian hemp; and during the state of ecstasy so induced, according to deeping, they acquired powers almost superhuman. i read how they could scale sheer precipices, pass fearlessly along narrow ledges which would scarce afford foothold for a rat, cast themselves from great heights unscathed, and track one marked for death in such a manner as to remain unseen not only by the victim but by others about him. at this point of my studies i started, in a sudden nervous panic, and laid my hand upon my revolver. i thought of the eyes which had seemed to look up from the black well of the staircase--i thought of the horrible end of this man whose book lay upon the table ... and i thought i heard a faint sound outside my study door! the key of deeping's safe, and his letter to me, lay close by my hand. i slipped them into a drawer and locked it. with every nerve, it seemed, strung up almost to snapping point, i mechanically pursued my reading. "at the time of the crusades," wrote deeping, "there was a story current of this awful order which i propose to recount. it is one of the most persistent dealing with the hashishin, and is related to-day of the apparently mythical hassan of aleppo. i am disposed to believe that at one time it had a solid foundation, for a similar practice was common in ancient egypt and is mentioned by georg ebers." my door began very slowly to open! merciful god! what was coming into the room! so very slowly, so gently, nay, all but imperceptibly, did it move, that had my nerves been less keenly attuned i doubt not i should have remained unaware of the happening. frozen with horror, i sat and watched. yet my mental condition was a singular one. my direct gaze never quitted the door, but in some strange fashion i saw the words of the next paragraph upon the page before me! "as making peculiarly efficient assassins, when under the influence of the drug, and as being capable of concealing themselves where a normal man could not fail to be detected--" (at this moment i remembered that my bathroom window was open, and that the waste-pipe passed down the exterior wall.) "--the sheikh-al-jebal took young boys of a certain desert tribe, and for eight hours of every day, until their puberty, confined them in a wooden frame--" what looked like a reed was slowly inserted through the opening between door and doorpost! it was brought gradually around ... until it pointed directly toward me! i seemed to put forth a mighty mental effort, shaking off the icy hand of fear which held me inactive in my chair. a saving instinct warned me--and i ducked my head. something whirred past me and struck the wall behind. revolver in hand, i leapt across the room, dashed the door open, and fired blindly--again--and again--and again--down the passage. and in the brief gleams i saw it! i cannot call it man, but i saw the thing which, i doubt not, had killed poor deeping with the crescent-knife and had propelled a poison-dart at me. it was a tiny dwarf! neither within nor without a freak exhibition had i seen so small a human being! a kind of supernatural dread gripped me by the throat at sight of it. as it turned with animal activity and bounded into my bathroom, i caught a three-quarter view of the creature's swollen, incredible head--which was nearly as large as that of a normal man! never while my mind serves me can i forget that yellow, grinning face and those canine fangs--the tigerish, blazing eyes--set in the great, misshapen head upon the tiny, agile body. wildly, i fired again. i hurled myself forward and dashed into the room. like nothing so much as a cat, the gleaming body (the dwarf was but scantily clothed) streaked through the open window! certain death, i thought, must be his lot upon the stones of the court far below. i ran and looked down, shaking in every limb, my mind filled with a loathing terror unlike anything i had ever known. brilliant moonlight flooded the pavement beneath; for twenty yards to left and right every stone was visible. the court was empty! human, homely london moved and wrought intimately about me; but there, at sight of the empty court below, a great loneliness swept down like a mantle--a clammy mantle of the fabric of dread. i stood remote from my fellows, in an evil world peopled with the creatures of hassan of aleppo. moved by some instinct, as that of a frightened child, i dropped to my knees and buried my face in trembling hands. chapter vi the ring of the prophet "there is no doubt," said mr. rawson, "that great personal danger attaches to any contact with this relic. it is the first time i have been concerned with anything of the kind." mr. bristol, of scotland yard, standing stiffly military by the window, looked across at the gray-haired solicitor. we were all silent for a few moments. "my late client's wishes," continued mr. rawson, "are explicit. his last instructions, evidently written but a short time prior to his death, advise me that the holy slipper of the prophet is contained in the locked safe at his house in dulwich. he was clearly of opinion that you, mr. cavanagh, would incur risk--great risk--from your possession of the key. since attempts have been made upon you, murderous attempts, the late professor deeping, my unfortunate client, evidently was not in error." "mysterious outrages," said bristol, "have marked the progress of the stolen slipper from mecca almost to london." "i understand," interrupted the solicitor, "that a fanatic known as hassan of aleppo seeks to restore the relic to its former resting-place." "that is so." "exactly; and it accounts for the professor's wish that the safe should not be touched by any one but a believer--and for his instructions that its removal to the antiquarian museum and the placing of the slipper within that institution be undertaken by a moslem or moslems." bristol frowned. "any one who has touched the receptacle containing the thing," he said, "has either been mutilated or murdered. i want to apprehend the authors of those outrages, but i fail to see why the slipper should be put on exhibition. other crimes are sure to follow." "i can only pursue my instructions," said mr. rawson dryly. "they are, that the work be done in such a manner as to expose all concerned to a minimum of risk from these mysterious people; that if possible a moslem be employed for the purpose; and that mr. cavanagh, here, shall always hold the key or keys to the case in the museum containing the slipper. will you undertake to look for some--eastern workmen, mr. bristol? in the course of your inquiries you may possibly come across such a person." "i can try," replied bristol. "meanwhile, i take it, the safe must remain at dulwich?" "certainly. it should be guarded." "we are guarding it and shall guard it," bristol assured him. "i only hope we catch someone trying to get at it!" shortly afterward bristol and i left the office, and, his duties taking him to scotland yard, i returned to my chambers to survey the position in which i now found myself. indeed, it was a strange one enough, showing how great things have small beginnings; for, as a result of a steamer acquaintance i found myself involved in a dark business worthy of the middle ages. that professor deeping should have stolen one of the holy slippers of mohammed was no affair of mine, and that an awful being known as hassan of aleppo should have pursued it did not properly enter into my concerns; yet now, with a group of eastern fanatics at large in england, i was become, in a sense, the custodian of the relic. moreover, i perceived that i had been chosen that i might safeguard myself. what i knew of the matter might imperil me, but whilst i held the key to the reliquary, and held it fast, i might hope to remain immune though i must expect to be subjected to attempts. it would be my affair to come to terms. contemplating these things i sat, in a world of dark dreams, unconscious of the comings and goings in the court below, unconscious of the hum which told of busy fleet street so near to me. the weather, as is its uncomfortable habit in england, had suddenly grown tropically hot, plunging london into the vapours of an african spring, and the sun was streaming through my open window fully upon the table. i mopped my clammy forehead, glancing with distaste at the pile of work which lay before me. then my eyes turned to an open quarto book. it was the late professor deeping's "assyrian mythology," and embodied the result of his researches into the history of the hashishin, the religious murderers of whose existence he had been so skeptical. to the chief of the order, the terrible sheikh hassan of aleppo, he referred as a "fabled being"; yet it was at the hands of this "fabled being" that he had met his end! how incredible it all seemed. but i knew full well how worthy of credence it was. then upon my gloomy musings a sound intruded--the ringing of my door bell. i rose from my chair with a weary sigh, went to the door, and opened it. an aged oriental stood without. he was tall and straight, had a snow-white beard and clear-cut, handsome features. he wore well-cut european garments and a green turban. as i stood staring he saluted me gravely. "mr. cavanagh?" he asked, speaking in faultless english. "i am he." "i learn that the services of a moslem workman are required." "quite correct, sir; but you should apply at the offices of messrs. rawson & rawson, chancery lane." the old man bowed, smiling. "many thanks; i understood so much. but, my position being a peculiar one, i wished to speak with you--as a friend of the late professor." i hesitated. the old man looked harmless enough, but there was an air of mystery about the matter which put me on my guard. "you will pardon me," i said, "but the work is scarcely of a kind--" he raised his thin hand. "i am not undertaking it myself. i wished to explain to you the conditions under which i could arrange to furnish suitable porters." his patient explanation disposed me to believe that he was merely some kind of small contractor, and in any event i had nothing to fear from this frail old man. "step in, sir," i said, repenting of my brusquerie--and stood aside for him. he entered, with that oriental meekness in which there is something majestic. i placed a chair for him in the study, and reseated myself at the table. the old man, who from the first had kept his eyes lowered deferentially, turned to me with a gentle gesture, as if to apologize for opening the conversation. "from the papers, mr. cavanagh," he began, "i have learned of the circumstances attending the death of professor deeping. your papers"--he smiled, and i thought i had never seen a smile of such sweetness--"your papers know all! now i understand why a moslem is required, and i understand what is required of him. but remembering that the object of his labours would be to place a holy relic on exhibition for the amusement of unbelievers, can you reasonably expect to obtain the services of one?" his point of view was fair enough. "perhaps not," i replied. "for my own part i should wish to see the slipper back in mecca, or wherever it came from. but professor deeping--" "professor deeping was a thorn in the flesh of the faithful!" my visitor's voice was gravely reproachful. "nevertheless his wishes must be considered," i said, "and the methods adopted by those who seek to recover the relic are such as to alienate all sympathy." "you speak of the hashishin?" asked the old man. "mr. cavanagh, in your own faith you have had those who spilled the blood of infidels as freely!" "my good sir, the existence of such an organization cannot be tolerated today! this survival of the dark ages must be stamped out. however just a cause may be, secret murder is not permissible, as you, a man of culture, a believer, and"--i glanced at his unusual turban--"a descendant of the prophet, must admit." "i can admit nothing against the guardian of the tradition, mr. cavanagh! the prophet taught that we should smite the infidel. i ask you--have you the courage of your convictions?" "perhaps; i trust so." "then assist me to rid england of what you have called a survival of the dark ages. i will furnish porters to remove and carry the safe, if you will deliver to me the key!" i sprang to my feet. "that is madness!" i cried. "in the first place i should be compromising with my conscience, and in the second place i should be defenceless against those who might--" "i have with me a written promise from one highly placed--one to whose will hassan of aleppo bows!" my mind greatly disturbed, i watched the venerable speaker. i had determined now that he was some religious leader of islam in england, who had been deputed to approach me; and, let me add, i was sorely tempted to accede to his proposal, for nothing would be gained by any one if the slipper remained for ever at the museum, whereas by conniving at its recovery by those who, after all, were its rightful owners i should be ridding england of a weird and undesirable visitant. i think i should have agreed, when i remembered that the hashishin had murdered professor deeping and had mutilated others wholly innocent of offence. i looked across at the old man. he had drawn himself up to his great height, and for the first time fully raising the lids, had fixed upon me the piercing gaze of a pair of eagle eyes. i started, for the aspect of this majestic figure was entirely different from that of the old stranger who had stood suppliant before me a moment ago. "it is impossible," i said. "i can come to no terms with those who shield murderers." he regarded me fixedly, but did not move. "es-selam 'aleykum!" i added ("peace be on you!") closing the interview in the eastern manner. the old man lowered his eyes, and saluted me with graceful gravity. "wa-'aleykum!" he said ("and on you!"). i conducted him to the door and closed it upon his exit. in his last salute i had noticed the flashing of a ring which he wore upon his left hand, and he was gone scarce ten seconds ere my heart began to beat furiously. i snatched up "assyrian mythology" and with trembling fingers turned to a certain page. there i read-each sheikh of the assassins is said to be invested with the "ring of the prophet." it bears a green stone, shaped in the form of a scimitar or crescent. my dreadful suspicion was confirmed. i knew who my visitor had been. "god in heaven!" i whispered. "it was hassan of aleppo!" chapter vii first attempt on the safe on the following morning i was awakened by the arrival of bristol. i hastened to admit him. "your visitor of yesterday," he began, "has wasted no time!" "what has happened?" he tugged irritably at his moustache. "i don't know!" he replied. "of course it was no surprise to find that there isn't a mohammedan who'll lay his little finger on professor deeping's safe! there's no doubt in my mind that every lascar at the docks knows hassan of aleppo to be in england. some other arrangement will have to be arrived at, if the thing is ever to be taken to the antiquarian museum. meanwhile we stand to lose it. last night--" he accepted a cigarette, and lighted it carefully. "last night," he resumed, "a member of p division was on point duty outside the late professor's house, and two c.i.d. men were actually in the room where the safe is. result--someone has put in at least an hour's work on the lock, but it proved too tough a job!" i stared at him amazedly. "someone has been at the lock!" i cried. "but that is impossible, with two men in the room--unless--" "they were both knocked on the head!" "both! but by whom! my god! they are not--" "oh, no! it was done artistically. they both came round about four o'clock this morning." "and who attacked them?" "they had no idea. neither of them saw a thing!" my amazement grew by leaps and bounds. "but, bristol, one of them must have seen the other succumb!" "both did! their statements tally exactly!" "i quite fail to follow you." "that's not surprising. listen: when i got on the scene about five o'clock, marden and west, the two c.i.d. men, had quite recovered their senses, though they were badly shaken, and one had a cracked skull. the constable was conscious again, too." "what! was he attacked?" "in exactly the same way! i'll give you marden's story, as he gave it to me a few minutes after the surgeon had done with him. he said that they were sitting in the study, smoking, and with both windows wide open. it was a fearfully hot night." "did they have lights?" "no. west sat in an armchair near the writing-table; marden sat by the window next to the door. i had arranged that every hour one of them should go out to the gate and take the constable's report. it was just after marden had been out at one o'clock that it happened. "they were sitting as i tell you when marden thought he heard a curious sort of noise from the gate. west appeared to have heard nothing; but i have no doubt that it was the sound of the constable's fall. west's pipe had gone out, and he struck a match to relight it. as he did so, marden saw him drop the match, clench both fists, and with eyes glaring in the moonlight and his teeth coming together with a snap, drop from his chair. "marden says that he was half up from his seat when something struck him on the back of the head with fearful force. he remembered nothing more until he awoke, with the dawn creeping into the room, and heard west groaning somewhere beside him. they both had badly damaged skulls with great bruises behind the ear. it is instructive to note that their wounds corresponded almost to a fraction of an inch. they had been stunned by someone who thoroughly understood his business, and with some heavy, blunt weapon. a few minutes later came the man to relieve the constable; and the constable was found to have been treated in exactly the same way!" "but if marden's account is true--" "west, as he lost consciousness, saw marden go in exactly the same way." "marden was seated by the open window, but i cannot conjecture how any one can have got at west, who sat by the table!" "the case of marden is little less than remarkable; he was some distance from the window. no one could possibly have reached him from outside." "and the constable?" "the constable can give us no clue. he was suddenly struck down, as the others were. i examined the safe, of course, but didn't touch it, according to instructions. someone had been at work on the lock, but it had defied their efforts. i'm fully expecting though that they'll be back to-night, with different tools!" "the place is watched during the day, of course?" "of course. but it's unlikely that anything will be attempted in daylight. tonight i am going down myself." "could you arrange that i join you?" "i could, but you can see the danger for yourself?" "it is extraordinarily mysterious." "mr. cavanagh, it's uncanny!" said bristol. "i can understand that one of these hashishin could easily have got up behind the man on duty out in the open. i know, and so do you, that they're past masters of that kind of thing; but unless they possess the power to render themselves invisible, it's not evident how they can have got behind west whilst he sat at the table, with marden actually watching him!" "we must lay a trap for them to-night." "rely upon me to do so. my only fear is that they may anticipate it and change their tactics. hassan of aleppo apparently knows as much of our plans as we do ourselves." inspector bristol, though a man of considerable culture, clearly was infected with a species of supernatural dread. chapter viii the violet eyes again at four o'clock in the afternoon i had heard nothing further from bristol, but i did not doubt that he would advise me of his arrangements in good time. i sought by hard work to forget for a time the extraordinary business of the stolen slipper; but it persistently intruded upon my mind. particularly, my thoughts turned to the night of professor deeping's murder, and to the bewitchingly pretty woman who had warned me of the impending tragedy. she had bound me to secrecy--a secrecy which had proved irksome, for it had since appeared to me that she must have been an accomplice of hassan of aleppo. at the time i had been at a loss to define her peculiar accent, now it seemed evidently enough to have been oriental. i threw down my pen in despair, for work was impossible, went downstairs, and walked out under the arch into fleet street. quite mechanically i turned to the left, and, still engaged with idle conjectures, strolled along westward. passing the entrance to one of the big hotels, i was abruptly recalled to the realities--by a woman's voice. "wait for me here," came musically to my ears. i stopped, and turned. a woman who had just quitted a taxi-cab was entering the hotel. the day was hot and thunderously oppressive, and this woman with the musical voice wore a delicate costume of flimsiest white. a few steps upward she paused and glanced back. i had a view of a greek profile, and for one magnetic instant looked into eyes of the deepest and most wonderful violet. then, shaking off inaction, i ran up the steps and overtook the lady in white as a porter swung open the door to admit her. we entered together. "madame," i said in a low tone, "i must detain you for a moment. there is something i have to ask." she turned, exhibiting the most perfect composure, lowered her lashes and raised them again, the gaze of the violet eyes sweeping me from head to foot with a sort of frigid scorn. "i fear you have made a mistake, sir. we have never met before!" her voice betrayed no trace of any foreign accent! "but," i began--and paused. i felt myself flush; for this encounter in the foyer of an hotel, with many curious onlookers, was like to prove embarrassing if my beautiful acquaintance persisted in her attitude. i fully realized what construction would be put upon my presence there, and foresaw that forcible and ignominious ejection must be my lot if i failed to establish my right to address her. she turned away, and crossed in the direction of the staircase. a sunbeam sought out a lock of hair that strayed across her brow, and kissed it to a sudden glow like that which lurks in the heart of a blush rose. that wonderful sheen, which i had never met with elsewhere in nature, but which no artifice could lend, served to remove my last frail doubt which had survived the evidence of the violet eyes. i had been deceived by no strange resemblance; this was indeed the woman who had been the harbinger of professor deeping's death. in three strides i was beside her again. curious glances were set upon me, and i saw a servant evidently contemplating approach; but i ignored all save my own fixed purpose. "you must listen to what i have to say!" i whispered. "if you decline, i shall have no alternative but to call in the detective who holds a warrant for your arrest!" she stood quite still, watching me coolly. "i suppose you would wish to avoid a scene?" i added. "you have already made me the object of much undesirable attention," she replied scornfully. "i do not need your assurance that you would disgrace me utterly! you are talking nonsense, as you must be aware--unless you are insane. but if your object be to force your acquaintance upon me, your methods are novel, and, under the circumstances, effective. come, sir, you may talk to me--for three minutes!" the musical voice had lost nothing of its imperiousness, but for one instant the lips parted, affording a fleeting glimpse of pearl beyond the coral. her sudden change of front was bewildering. now, she entered the lift and i followed her. as we ascended side by side i found it impossible to believe that this dainty white figure was that of an associate of the hashishin, that of a creature of the terrible hassan of aleppo. yet that she was the same girl who, a few days after my return from the east, had shown herself conversant with the plans of the murderous fanatics was beyond doubt. her accent on that occasion clearly had been assumed, with what object i could not imagine. then, as we quitted the lift and entered a cosy lounge, my companion seated herself upon a chesterfield, signing to me to sit beside her. as i did so she lay back smiling, and regarding me from beneath her black lashes. thus, half veiled, her great violet eyes were most wonderful. "now, sir," she said softly, "explain yourself." "then you persist in pretending that we have not met before?" "there is no occasion for pretence," she replied lightly; and i found myself comparing her voice with her figure, her figure with her face, and vainly endeavouring to compute her age. frankly, she was bewildering--this lovely girl who seemed so wholly a woman of the world. "this fencing is useless." "it is quite useless! come, i know new york, london, and i know paris, vienna, budapest. therefore i know mankind! you thought i was pretty, i suppose? i may be; others have thought so. and you thought you would like to make my acquaintance without troubling about the usual formalities? you adopted a singularly brutal method of achieving your object, but i love such insolence in a man. therefore i forgave you. what have you to say to me?" i perceive that i had to deal with a bold adventuress, with a consummate actress, who, finding herself in a dangerous situation, had adopted this daring line of defence, and now by her personal charm sought to lure me from my purpose. but with the scimitar of hassan of aleppo stretched over me, with the dangers of the night before me, i was in no mood for a veiled duel of words, for an interchange of glances in thrust and parry, however delightful such warfare might have been with so pretty an adversary. for a long time i looked sternly into her eyes; but their violet mystery defied, whilst her red-lipped smile taunted me. "unfortunately," i said, with slow emphasis, "you are protected by my promise, made on the occasion of our previous meeting. but murder has been done, so that honour scarcely demands that i respect my promise further--" she raised her eyebrows slightly. "surely that depends upon the quality of the honour!" she said. "i believe you to be a member of a murderous organization, and unless you can convince me that i am wrong, i shall act accordingly." at that she leaned toward me, laying her hand on my arm. "please do not be so cruel," she whispered, "as to drag me into a matter with which truly i have no concern. believe me, you are utterly mistaken. wait one moment, and i will prove it." she rose, and before i could make move to detain her, quitted the room; but the door scarcely had closed ere i was afoot. the corridor beyond was empty. i ran on. the lift had just descended. a dark man whom i recognized stood near the closed gate. "quick!" i said, "i am cavanagh of the report! did you see a lady enter the lift?" "i did, mr. cavanagh," answered the hotel detective; for this was he. in such a giant inn as this i knew full well that one could come and go almost with impunity, though one had no right to the hospitality of the establishment; and it was with a premonition respecting what his answer would be, that i asked the man-"is she staying here?" "she is not. i have never seen her before!" the girl with the violet eyes had escaped, taking all her secrets with her! chapter ix second attempt on the safe "you see," said bristol, "the hashishin must know that the safe won't remain here unopened much longer. they will therefore probably make another attempt to-night." "it seems likely," i replied; and was silent. outside the open windows whispered the shrubbery, as a soft breeze stole through the bushes. beyond, the moon made play in the dim avenue. from the old chapel hard by the sweet-toned bell proclaimed midnight. our vigil was begun. in this room it was that professor deeping had met death at the hands of the murderous easterns; here it was that marden and west had mysteriously been struck down the night before. to-night was every whit as hot, and bristol and i had the windows widely opened. my companion was seated where the detective, marden, had sat, in a chair near the westerly window, and i lay back in the armchair that had been occupied by west. i may repeat here that the house of the late professor deeping was more properly a cottage, surrounded by a fairly large piece of ground, for the most part run wild. the room used as a study was on the ground floor, and had windows on the west and on the south. those on the west (french windows) opened on a loggia; those on the south opened right into the dense tangle of a neglected shrubbery. the place possessed an oppressive atmosphere of loneliness, for which in some measure its history may have been responsible. the silence, seemingly intensified by each whisper that sped through the elms and crept about the shrubbery, grew to such a stillness that i told myself i had experienced nothing like it since crossing with a caravan i had slept in the desert. yet noisy, whirling london was within gunshot of us; and this, though hard enough to believe, was a reflection oddly comforting. only one train of thought was possible, and this i pursued at random. by what means were marden and west struck down? in thus exposing ourselves, in order that we might trap the author or authors of the outrage, did we act wisely? "bristol," i said suddenly, "it was someone who came through the open window." "no one," he replied, "came through the windows. west saw absolutely nothing. but if any one comes that way to-night, we have him!" "west may have seen nothing; but how else could any one enter?" bristol offered no reply; and i plunged again into a maze of speculation. powerful mantraps were set in such a way that any one or anything, ignorant of their positions, coming up to the windows must unavoidably be snared. these had been placed in position with much secrecy after dusk, and the man on duty at the gate stood with his back to the wall. no one could approach him except from the front. my thoughts took a new turn. was the girl with the violet eyes an ally of the hashishin? thus far, although she so palpably had tricked me, i had found myself unable to speak of her to bristol; for the idea had entered my mind that she might have learned of the plan to murder deeping without directly being implicated. now came yet another explanation. the publicity given to that sensational case might have interested some third party in the fate of the stolen slipper! could it be that others, in no way connected with the dreadful hassan of aleppo, were in quest of the slipper? scotland yard had taken care to ensure that the general public be kept in ignorance of the existence of such an organization as the hashishin, but i must assume that this hypothetical third party were well aware that they had hassan, as well as the authorities, to count with. granting the existence of such a party, my beautiful acquaintance might be classified as one of its members. i spoke again. "bristol," i said, "has it occurred to you that there may be others, as well as hassan of aleppo, seeking to gain possession of the sacred slipper?" "it has not," he replied. "in the strictest sense of the expression, they would be out for trouble! what gave you the idea?" "i hardly know," i returned evasively, for even now i was loath to betray the mysterious girl with the wonderful eyes. the chapel bell sounding the half-hour, bristol rose with a sigh that might have been one of relief, and went out to take the report of the man on duty at the gate. as his footsteps died away along the elm avenue, it came to me how, in the darkness about, menace lurked; and i felt myself succumbing to the greatest dread experienced by man--the dread of the unknown. all that i knew of the weird group of fanatics--survivals of a dim and evil past--who must now be watching this cottage as bloodlustful devotees watch a shrine violated, burst upon my mind. i peopled the still blackness with lurking assassins, armed with the murderous knowledge of by-gone centuries, armed with invisible weapons which struck down from afar, supernaturally. i glanced toward the corner of the room where the safe stood, reliquary of a worthless thing for which much blood had been spilled. then sounded footsteps along the avenue, and my fear whispered that they were not those of bristol but of one who had murdered him, and who came guilefully, to murder me! i snatched the revolver from my pocket and crossed the darkened room. just to the right of one of the french windows i stood looking out across the loggia to the end of the avenue. the night was a bright one, and the room was flooded with a reflected mystic light, but outside the moon paved the avenue with pearl, and through the trees i saw a figure approaching. was it bristol? it had his build, it had his gait; but my fears remained. then the figure crossed the patch of shrubbery and stepped on to the loggia. "mr. cavanagh!" i laughed dryly at my own cowardice, but my heart was still beating abnormally. "here i am, bristol, in a ghastly funk!" "i don't wonder! they may be on us any time now. all's well at the gate, but morris says he heard, or thought he heard something at the side of the chapel opposite, a while ago." "wind in the bushes?" "it may have been; but he says there was no breeze at the time." we resumed our seats. "bristol," i said, "now that the danger grows imminent, doesn't it seem to you foolhardy for us thus to expose ourselves?" "perhaps it is," he agreed; "but how otherwise are we likely to learn what happened to marden and west?" "the enemy may adopt different measures to-night." "i think not. our dispositions are the same, and i credit them with cunning enough to know it. at the same time i credit ourselves with having kept the existence of the steel traps completely secret. they will assume (so i've reasoned) that we intend to rely entirely upon our superior vigilance, therefore they will try the same game as last night." silence fell. the moon rays, creeping around from the right of the avenue, crossing the shrubbery and encroaching upon the low wall of the loggia, now flooded its floor. against the silvern light, bristol appeared to me in black silhouette. the breeze, too, seemed now to blow from a slightly different direction. it came through the windows on my right, beyond which lay the unkempt bushes which extended on that side to the wall of the grounds. so we sat, until the moonlight poured fully in upon bristol's back. so we sat when the clock chimed the hour of one. bristol arose and once more went out to the gate. he had arranged to visit morris's post every half-hour. again i experienced the nervous dread that he would be attacked in the avenue; but again he returned unscathed. "all's well," he said. but from his tones i knew that he had not forgotten that it was at this hour marden and west had suffered mysterious attack. neither of us, i think, was disposed to talk. we both were unwilling to break the silence, wherein, with all our ears, we listened for the slightest disturbance. and now my attention turned anew to the course of the slowly creeping moon rays. in my mind an idea was struggling for definition. there was something significant in the lunar lighting of the room. why, i asked myself, had the attack been made at one o'clock? did the time signify anything? if so, what? i looked toward bristol. his figure, the chair upon which he sat, were sharply outlined by the cold light. the wall behind me, and to my left, was illuminated brilliantly; but no light fell directly upon me. the idea was taking shape. from the loggia and the avenue bristol, i reasoned, must be clearly visible. from the shrubbery on the south, through the other windows could i be seen? yes, silhouetted against the moonlight! a faint sound, quite indescribable, came to my ears from somewhere outside-beyond. "my god!" whispered bristol. "did you hear it?" "yes! what?" "it must have been morris!--" bristol was half standing, one hand upon the arm of the chair, the other concealed, but grasping his revolver as i well knew. i, too, had my revolver in my hand, and as i twisted in my seat, preparatory to rising, in sheer nervousness i dropped the weapon upon the carpet. with an exclamation of dismay, i stooped quickly to recover it. as i did so something whistled past my ear, so closely as almost to touch it--and struck with a dull thud upon the wall beyond! "bristol!" i whispered. but as i raised my eyes to him he seemed to crumple up, and fell loosely forward into the patch of moonlight spread upon the floor! "god in heaven!" i said aloud. in a cold sweat of fear i crouched there, for it had become evident to me that, as i bent, i was entirely in shadow. there was a rustling in the bushes on the left; but before i could turn in that direction, my attention was claimed elsewhere. over into the loggia leapt an almost naked brown figure! it was that of a small but strongly built man, who carried a short, exceedingly thick bamboo rod in his hand. my fear was too great to admit of my accurately observing anything at that time, but i noticed that some kind of leather thong or loop was attached to the end of the squat cane. the panic fear of the supernatural was strongly upon me, and i was unable to realize that this eastern apparition was a creature of flesh and blood. with my nerves strung up to snapping point, i crouched watching him. he entered the room, bending over the body of bristol. a hot breath fanned my cheek! at that my overwrought nerves betrayed me. i uttered a stifled cry, looking upward ... and into a pair of gleaming eyes which looked down into mine! a second brown man (who must have entered by one of the windows overlooking the shrubbery) was bending over me! scarce knowing what i did, i raised my revolver and blazed straight into the dimly-seen face. down upon me silently dropped a naked body, and something warm came flowing over my hand. but, knowing my foes to be of flesh and blood, feeling myself at handgrips now with a palpable enemy, i threw off the body, leapt up and fired, though blindly, at the flying shape that flashed across the loggia--and was lost in the shadow pools under the elms. upon the din of my shooting fell silence like a cloak. a moment i listened, tense, still; then i turned to the table and lighted the lamp. in its light i saw bristol lying like a dead man. close beside him was a big and heavy lump of clay. it had been shaped as a ball, but now it was flattened out curiously. bending over my unfortunate companion and learning that, though unconscious, he lived, i learnt, too, how the hashishin contrived to strike men insensible without approaching them; i learnt that the one whom i had shot, who lay in his blood almost on the spot where professor deeping once had lain, was an expert slinger. the contrivance which he carried, as did the other who had escaped, was a sling, of the ancient persian type. in place of stones, heavy lumps of clay were used, which operated much the same as a sand-bag, whilst enabling the operator to work from a considerable distance. hidden, over by the ancient chapel it might be, one of this evil twain had struck down morris, the constable; from the shelter of the trees, from many yards away, they had shot their singular missiles through the open windows at bristol and myself. bristol had succumbed, and now, with a redness showing through his close-cut hair immediately behind the right ear, lay wholly unconscious at my feet. it had been a divine accident which had caused me to drop my revolver, and, stooping to recover it, unknowingly to frustrate the design of the second slinger upon myself. the light of the lamp fell upon the face of the dead hashishin. he lay forward upon his hands, crouching almost, but with his face, his dreadful, featureless face, twisted up at me from under his left shoulder. god knows he deserved his end; but that mutilated face is often grinning, bloodily, in my dreams. and then as i stood, between that horrid exultation which is born of killing and the panic which threatened me out of the darkness, i saw something advancing ... slowly ... slowly ... from the elmen shades toward the loggia. it was a shape--it was a shadow. silent it came--on--and on. where the dusk lay deepest it paused, undefined; for i could give it no name of man or spirit. but a horror seemed to proceed from it as light from a lamp. i groped about the table near to me, never taking my eyes from that sinister form outside. as my fingers closed upon the telephone, distant voices and the sound of running footsteps (of those who had heard the shots) came welcome to my ears. the form stirred, seeming to raise phantom arms in execration, and a stray moonbeam pierced the darkness shrouding it. for a fleeting instant something flashed venomously. the sounds grew nearer. i could tell that the newcomers had found morris lying at the gate. yet still i stood, frozen with uncanny fear, and watching--watching the spot to which that stray beam had pierced; the spot where i had seen the moon gleam upon the ring of the prophet! chapter x at the british antiquarian museum a little group of interested spectators stood at the head of the square glass case in the centre of the lofty apartment in the british antiquarian museum known as the burton room (by reason of the fact that a fine painting of sir richard burton faces you as you enter). a few other people looked on curiously from the lower end of the case. it contained but one exhibit--a dirty and dilapidated markoob--or slipper of morocco leather that had once been red. "our latest acquisition, gentlemen," said mr. mostyn, the curator, speaking in a low tone to the distinguished oriental scholars around him. "it has been left to the institution by the late professor deeping. he describes it in a document furnished by his solicitor as one of the slippers worn by the prophet mohammed, but gives us no further particulars. i myself cannot quite place the relic." "nor i," interrupted one of the group. "it is not mentioned by any of the arabian historians to my knowledge--that is, if it comes from mecca, as i understand it does." "i cannot possibly assert that it comes from mecca, dr. nicholson," mostyn replied. "the professor may have taken it from al-madinah--perhaps from the mysterious inner passage of the baldaquin where the treasures of the place lie. but i can assure you that what little we do know of its history is sufficiently unsavoury." i fancied that the curator's tired cultured voice faltered as he spoke; and now, without apparent reason, he moved a step to the right and glanced oddly along the room. i followed the direction of his glance, and saw a tall man in conventional morning dress, irreproachable in every detail, whose head was instantly bent upon his catalogue. but before his eyes fell i knew that their long almond shape, as well as the peculiar burnt pallor of his countenance, were undoubtedly those of an oriental. "there have been mysterious outrages committed, i believe, upon many of those who have come in contact with the slipper?" asked one of the savants. "exactly. professor deeping was undoubtedly among the victims. his instructions were explicit that the relic should be brought here by a moslem, but for a long time we failed to discover any moslem who would undertake the task; and, as you are aware, while the slipper remained at the professor's house attempts were made to steal it." he ceased uneasily, and glanced at the tall eastern figure. it had edged a little nearer; the head was still bowed and the fine yellow waxen fingers of the hand from which he had removed his glove fumbled with the catalogue's leaves. it may well have been that in those days i read menace in every eye, yet i felt assured that the yellow visitor was eavesdropping--was malignantly attentive to the conversation. the curator spoke lower than ever now; no one beyond the circle could possibly hear him as he proceeded-"we discovered an alexandrian greek who, for personal reasons, not unconnected with matrimony, had turned moslem! he carried the slipper here, strongly escorted, and placed it where you now see it. no other hand has touched it." (the speaker's voice was raised ever so slightly.) "you will note that there is a rail around the case, to prevent visitors from touching even the glass." "ah," said dr. nicholson quizzically, "and has anything untoward happened to our graeco-moslem friend?" "perhaps inspector bristol can tell," replied the curator. the straight, military figure of the well-known scotland yard man was conspicuous among the group of distinguished--and mostly round-shouldered--scholars. "sorry, gentlemen," he said, smiling, "but mr. acepulos has vanished from his tobacco shop in soho. i am not apprehensive that he had been kidnapped or anything of that kind. i think rather that the date of his disappearance tallies with that on which he cashed his cheque for service rendered! his present wife is getting most unbeautifully fat, too." "what precautions," someone asked, "are being taken to guard the slipper?" "well," mostyn answered, "though we have only the bare word of the late professor deeping that the slipper was actually worn by mohammed, it has certainly an enormous value according to moslem ideas. there can be no doubt that a group of fanatics known as hashishin are in london engaged in an extraordinary endeavour to recover it." mostyn's voice sank to an impressive whisper. my gaze sought again the tall eastern visitor and was held fascinated by the baffled straining in those velvet eyes. but the lids fell as i looked; and the effect was that of a fire suddenly extinguished. i determined to draw bristol's attention to the man. "accordingly," mostyn continued, "we have placed it in this room, from which i fancy it would puzzle the most accomplished thief to remove it." the party, myself included, stared about the place, as he went on to explain-"we have four large windows here; as you see. the burton room occupies the end of a wing; there is only one door; it communicates with the next room, which in turn opens into the main building by another door on the landing. we are on the first floor; these two east windows afford a view of the lawn before the main entrance; those two west ones face orpington square; all are heavily barred as you see. during the day there is a man always on duty in these two rooms. at night that communicating door is locked. short of erecting a ladder in full view either of the square or of great orchard street, filing through four iron bars and breaking the window and the case, i fail to see how anybody can get at the slipper here." "if a duplicate key to the safe--" another voice struck in; i knew it afterward for that of professor rhys-jenkyns. "impossible to procure one, professor," cried mostyn, his eyes sparkling with an almost boyish interest. "mr. cavanagh here holds the keys of the case, under the will of the late professor deeping. they are of foreign workmanship and more than a little complicated." the eyes of the savants were turned now in my direction. "i suppose you have them in a place of safety?" said dr. nicholson. "they are at my bankers," i replied. "then i venture to predict," said the celebrated orientalist, "that the slipper of the prophet will rest here undisturbed." he linked his arm into that of a brother scholar and the little group straggled away, mostyn accompanying them to the main entrance. but i saw inspector bristol scratching his chin; he looked very much as if he doubted the accuracy of the doctor's prediction. he had already had some experience of the implacable devotion of the moslem group to this treasure of the faithful. "the real danger begins," i suggested to him, "when the general public is admitted--after to-day, is it not?" "yes. all to-day's people are specially invited, or are using special invitation cards," he replied. "the people who received them often give their tickets away to those who will be likely really to appreciate the opportunity." i looked around for the tall oriental. he seemed to have vanished, and for some reason i hesitated to speak of him to bristol; for my gaze fell upon an excessively thin, keen-faced man whose curiously wide-open eyes met mine smilingly, whose gray suit spoke stein-bloch, whose felt was a boss raw-edge unmistakably of a kind that only philadelphia can produce. at the height of the season such visitors are not rare, but this one had an odd personality, and moreover his keen gaze was raking the place from ceiling to floor. where had i met him before? to the best of my recollection i had never set eyes upon the man prior to that moment; and since he was so palpably an american i had no reason for assuming him to be associated with the hashishin. but i remembered--indeed, i could never forget--how, in the recent past, i had met with an apparent associate of the moslems as evidently european as this curiously alert visitor was american. moreover ... there was something tauntingly familiar, yet elusive, about that gaunt face. was it not upon the eve of the death of professor deeping that the girl with the violet eyes had first intruded her fascinating personality into my tangled affairs? patently, she had then been seeking the holy slipper, and by craft had endeavoured to bend me to her will. then had i not encountered her again, meeting the glance of her unforgettable violet eyes outside a strand hotel? the encounter had presaged a further attempt upon the slipper! certainly she acted on behalf of someone interested in it; and since neither bristol nor i could conceive of any one seeking to possess the bloodstained thing except the mysterious leader of the hashishin--hassan of aleppo--as a creature of that awful fanatic being i had written her down. why, then, if the mysterious eastern employed a european girl, should he not also employ an american man? it might well be that the relic, in entering the doors of the impregnable antiquarian museum, had passed where the diabolical arts of the hashishin had no power to reach it--where the beauty of western women and the craft of eastern man were equally useless weapons. perhaps hassan's campaign was entering upon a new phase. was it a shirking of plain duty on my part that wish--that ever-present hope--that the murderous company of fanatics who had pursued the stolen slipper from its ancient resting-place to london, should succeed in recovering it? i leave you to judge. the crescent of islam fades to-day and grows pale, but there are yet fierce believers, alust for the blood of the infidel. in such as these a faith dies the death of an adder, and is more venomous in its death-throes than in the full pulse of life. the ghastly indiscretion of professor deeping, in rifling a moslem sacristy, had led to the mutilation of many who, unwittingly, had touched the looted relic, had brought about his own end, had established a league of fantastic assassins in the heart of the metropolis. only once had i seen the venerable hassan of aleppo--a stately, gentle old man; but i knew that the velvet eyes could blaze into a passionate fury that seemed to scorch whom it fell upon. i knew that the saintly hassan was sheikh of the hashishin. and familiarity with that dreadful organization had by no means bred contempt. i was the holder of the key, and my fear of the fanatics grew like a magic mango, darkened the sunlight of each day, and filled the night with indefinable dread. you, who have not read poor deeping's "assyrian mythology", cannot picture a creature with a huge, distorted head, and a tiny, dwarfed body--a thing inhuman, yet human--a man stunted and malformed by the cruel arts of brother men--a thing obnoxious to life, with but one passion, the passion to kill. you cannot conceive of the years of agony spent by that creature strapped to a wooden frame--in order to prevent his growth! you cannot conceive of his fierce hatred of all humanity, inflamed to madness by the eastern drug, hashish, and directed against the enemies of islam--the holders of the slipper--by the wonderful power of hassan of aleppo. but i had not only read of such beings, i had encountered one! and he was but one of the many instruments of the hashishin. perhaps the girl with the violet eyes was another. what else to be dreaded hassan might hold in store for us i could not conjecture. do you wonder that i feared? do you wonder that i hoped (i confess it), hoped that the slipper might be recovered without further bloodshed? chapter xi the hole in the blind i stepped over to the door, where a constable stood on duty. "you observed a tall eastern gentleman in the room a while ago, officer?" "i did, sir." "how long is he gone?" the man started and began to peer about anxiously. "that's a funny thing, sir," he said. "i was keeping my eyes specially upon him. i noticed him hovering around while mr. mostyn was speaking; but although i could have sworn he hadn't passed out, he's gone!" "you didn't notice his departure, then?" "i'm sorry to say i didn't, sir." the man clearly was perplexed, but i found small matter for wonder in the episode. i had more than suspected the stranger to be a spy of hassan's, and members of that strange company were elusive as will-o'-the-wisps. bristol, at the far end of the room, was signalling to me. i walked back and joined him. "come over here," he said, in a low voice, "and pretend to examine these things." he glanced significantly to his left. following the glance, my eyes fell upon the lean american; he was peering into the receptacle which held the holy slipper. bristol led me across the room, and we both faced the wall and bent over a glass case. some yellow newspaper cuttings describing its contents hung above it, and these we pretended to read. "did you notice that man i glanced at?" "yes." "well, that's earl dexter, the first crook in america! ssh! only goes in on very big things. we had word at the yard he was in town; but we can't touch him--we can only keep our eyes on him. he usually travels openly and in his own name, but this time he seems to have slipped over quietly. he always dresses the same and has just given me 'good day!' they call him the stetson man. we heard this morning that he had booked two first-class sailings in the oceanic, leaving for new york three weeks hence. now, mr. cavanagh, what is his game?" "it has occurred to me before, bristol," i replied, "and you may remember that i mentioned the idea to you, that there might be a third party interested in the slipper. why shouldn't earl dexter be that third party?" "because he isn't a fool," rapped bristol shortly. "earl dexter isn't a man to gather up trouble for himself. more likely if his visit has anything really to do with the slipper he's retained by hassan and company. museum-breaking may be a bit out of the line of hashishin!" this latter suggestion dovetailed with my own ideas, and oddly enough there was something positively wholesome in the notion of the straightforward crookedness of a mere swell cracksman. then happened a singular thing, and one that effectually concluded our whispered colloquy. from the top end of the room, beyond the case containing the slipper, one of the yellow blinds came down with a run. bristol turned in a flash. it was not a remarkable accident, and might portend no more than a loose cord; but when, having walked rapidly up the room, we stood before the lowered blind, it appeared that this was no accident at all. some four feet from the bottom of the blind (or five feet from the floor) a piece of linen a foot square had been neatly slashed out! i glanced around the room. several fashionably dressed visitors were looking idly in our direction, but i could fasten upon no one of them as a likely perpetrator. bristol stared at me in perplexity. "who on earth did it," he muttered, "and what the blazes for?" chapter xii the hashishin watch "the american gentleman has just gone out, sir," said the sergeant at the door. i nodded grimly and raced down the steps. despite my half-formed desire that the slipper should be recovered by those to whom properly it belonged, i experienced at times a curious interest in its welfare. i cannot explain this. across the hall in front of me i saw earl dexter passing out of the museum. i followed him through into kingsway and thence to fleet street. he sauntered easily along, a nonchalant gray figure. i had begun to think that he was bound for his hotel and that i was wasting my time when he turned sharply into quiet salisbury square; it was almost deserted. my heart leapt into my mouth with a presentiment of what was coming as i saw an elegant and beautifully dressed woman sauntering along in front of us on the far side. was it that i detected something familiar in her carriage, in the poise of her head--something that reminded me of former unforgettable encounters; encounters which without exception had presaged attempts upon the slipper of the prophet? or was it that i recollected how dexter had booked two passages to america? i cannot say, but i felt my heart leap; i knew beyond any possibility of doubt that this meeting in salisbury square marked the opening of a new chapter in the history of the slipper. dexter slipped his arm within that of the girl in front of him and they paced slowly forward in earnest conversation. i suppose my action was very amateurish and very poor detective work; but regardless of discovery i crossed the road and passed close by the pair. i am certain that dexter was speaking as i came up, but, well out of earshot, his voice was suddenly arrested. his companion turned and looked at me. i was prepared for it, yet was thrilled electrically by the flashing glance of the violet eyes--for it was she--the beautiful harbinger of calamities! my brain was in a whirl; complication piled itself upon complication; yet in the heart of all this bewilderment i thought i could detect the key of the labyrinth, but at the time my ideas were in disorder, for the violet eyes were not lowered but fixed upon me in cold scorn. i knew myself helpless, and bending my head with conscious embarrassment i passed on hurriedly. i had work to do in plenty, but i could not apply my mind to it; and now, although the obvious and sensible thing was to go about my business, i wandered on aimlessly, my brain employed with a hundred idle conjectures and the query, "where have i seen the stetson man?" seeming to beat, like a tattoo, in my brain. there was something magnetic about the accursed slipper, for without knowing by what route i had arrived there, i found myself in great orchard street and close under the walls of the british antiquarian museum. then i was effectually aroused from my reverie. two men, both tall, stood in the shadow of a doorway on the opposite side of the street, staring intently up at the museum windows. it was a tropically hot afternoon and they stood in deepest shadow. no one else was in orchard street--that odd little backwater--at the time, and they stood gazing upward intently and gave me not even a passing glance. but i knew one for the oriental visitor of the morning, and despite broad noonday and the hum of busy london about me, my blood seemed to turn to water. i stood rooted to the spot, held there by a most surprising horror. for the gray-bearded figure of the other watcher was one i could never forget; its benignity was associated with the most horrible hours of my life, with deeds so dreadful that recollection to this day sometimes breaks my sleep, arousing me in the still watches, bathed in a cold sweat of fear. it was hassan of aleppo! if he saw me, if either of them saw me, i cannot say. what i should have done, what i might have done it is useless to speak of here--for i did nothing. inert, thralled by the presence of that eerie, dreadful being, i watched them leave the shadow of the doorway and pace slowly on with their dignified eastern gait. then, knowing how i had failed in my plain duty to my fellow-men--how, finding a serpent in my path, i had hesitated to crush it, had weakly succumbed to its uncanny fascination--i made my way round to the door of the museum. chapter xiii the white beam that night the deviltry began. mr. mostyn found himself wholly unable to sleep. many relics have curious histories, and the experienced archaeologist becomes callous to that uncanniness which seems to attach to some gruesome curios. but the slipper of the prophet was different. no mere ghostly menace threatened its holders; an avenging scimitar followed those who came in contact with it; gruesome tragedies, mutilations, murders, had marked its progress throughout. the night was still--as still as a london night can be; for there is always a vague murmuring in the metropolis as though the sleeping city breathed gently and sometimes stirred in its sleep. then, distinct amid these usual nocturnal noises, rose another, unaccountable sound, a muffled crash followed by a musical tinkling. mostyn sprang up in bed, drew on a dressing-gown, and took from the small safe at his bed-head the museum keys and a loaded revolver. a somewhat dishevelled figure, pale and wild-eyed, he made his way through the private door and into the ghostly precincts of the museum. he did not hesitate, but ascended the stairs and unlocked the door of the assyrian gallery. along its ghostly aisles he passed, and before the door which gave admittance to the burton room paused, fumbling a moment for the key. inside the room something was moving! mostyn was keenly alarmed; he knew that he must enter at once or never. he inserted the key in the lock, swung open the heavy door, stepped through and closed it behind him. he was a man of tremendous moral courage, for now,--alone in the apartment which harboured the uncanny relic, alone in the discharge of his duty, he stood with his back to the door trembling slightly, but with the idea of retreat finding no place in his mind. one side of the room lay in blackest darkness; through the furthermost window of the other a faint yellowed luminance (the moonlight through the blind) spread upon the polished parquet flooring. but that which held the curator spell-bound--that which momentarily quickened into life the latent superstition, common to all mankind, was a beam of cold light which poured its effulgence fully upon the case containing the prophet's slipper! where the other exhibits lay either in utter darkness or semi-darkness this one it seemed was supernaturally picked out by this lunar searchlight! it was ghostly-unnerving; but, the first dread of it passed, mostyn recalled how during the day a hole inexplicably had been cut in that blind; he recalled that it had not been mended, but that the damaged blind had merely been rolled up again. and as a dawning perception of the truth came to him, as falteringly he advanced a step toward the mystic beam, he saw that one side of the case had been shattered--he saw the broken glass upon the floor; and in the dense shadow behind and under the beam of light, vaguely he saw a dull red object. it moved--it seemed to live! it moved away from the case and in the direction of the eastern windows. "my god!" whispered mostyn; "it's the prophet's slipper!" and wildly, blindly, he fired down the room. later he knew that he had fired in panic, for nothing human was or could be in the place; yet his shot was not without effect. in the instant of its flash, something struck sharply against the dimly seen blind of one of the east windows; he heard the crash of broken glass. he leapt to the switch and flooded the room with light. a fear of what it might hold possessed him, and he turned instantly. hard by the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and midway between the case and the first easterly window lay the slipper. a bell was ringing somewhere. his shot probably had aroused the attention of the policeman. someone was clamouring upon the door of the museum, too. mostyn raced forward and raised the blind--that toward which the slipper had seemed to move. the lower pane of the window was smashed. blood was trickling down upon the floor from the jagged edges of the glass. "hullo there! open the door! open the door!" bells were going all over the place now; sounds of running footsteps came from below; but mostyn stood staring at the broken window and at the solid iron bars which protected it without, which were intact, substantial--which showed him that nothing human could possibly have entered. yet the case was shattered, the holy slipper lay close beside him upon the floor, and from the broken window-pane blood was falling--drip-drip-drip... that was the story as i heard it half an hour later. for inspector bristol, apprised of the happening, was promptly on the scene; and knowing how keen was my interest in the matter, he rang me up immediately. i arrived soon after bristol and found a perplexed group surrounding the uncanny slipper of the prophet. no one had dared to touch it; the dread vengeance of hassan of aleppo would visit any unbeliever who ventured to lay hand upon the holy, bloody thing. well we knew it, and as though it had been a venomous scorpion we, a company of up-to-date, prosaic men of affairs, stood around that dilapidated markoob, and kept a respectful distance. mostyn, an odd figure in pyjamas and dressing-gown, turned his pale, intellectual face to me as i entered. "it will have to be put back ... secretly," he said. his voice was very unsteady. bristol nodded grimly and glanced at the two constables, who, with a plain-clothes man unknown to me, made up that midnight company. "i'll do it, sir," said one of the constables suddenly. "one moment"--mostyn raised his hand! in the ensuing silence i could hear the heavy breathing of those around me. we were all looking at the slipper, i think. "do you understand, fully," the curator continued, "the risk you run?" "i think so, sir," answered the constable; "but i'm prepared to chance it." "the hands," resumed mostyn slowly, "of those who hitherto have ventured to touch it have been"--he hesitated--"cut off." "your career in the force would be finished if it happened to you, my lad," said bristol shortly. "i suppose they'd look after me," said the man, with grim humour. "they would if you met with--an accident, in the discharge of your duty," replied the inspector; "but i haven't ordered you to do it, and i'm not going to." "all right, sir," said the man, with a sort of studied truculence, "i'll take my chance." i tried to stop him; mostyn, too, stepped forward, and bristol swore frankly. but it was all of no avail. a sort of chill seemed to claim my very soul when i saw the constable stoop, unconcernedly pick up the slipper, and replace it in the broken case. it was out of a silence cathedral-like, awesome, that he spoke. "all you want is a new pane of glass, sir," he said--"and the thing's done." i anticipate in mentioning it here; but since constable hughes has no further place in these records i may perhaps be excused for dismissing him at this point. he was picked up outside the section house on the following evening with his right hand severed just above the wrist. chapter xiv a scream in the night the day that followed was one of the hottest which we experienced during the heat wave. it was a day crowded with happenings. the burton room was closed to the public, whilst a glazier worked upon the broken east window and a new blind was fitted to the west. behind the workmen, guarded by a watchful commissionaire, yawned the shattered case containing the slipper. i wondered if the visitors to the other rooms of the museum realized, as i realized, that despite the blazing sunlight of tropical london, the shadow of hassan of aleppo lay starkly on that haunted building? at about eleven o'clock, as i hurried along the strand, i almost collided with the girl of the violet eyes! she turned and ran like the wind down arundel street, whilst i stood at the corner staring after her in blank amazement, as did other passers-by; for a man cannot with dignity race headlong after a pretty woman down a public thoroughfare! my mystification grew hourly deeper; and bristol wallowed in perplexities. "it's the most horrible and confusing case," he said to me when i joined him at the museum, "that the yard has ever had to handle. it bristles with outrages and murders. god knows where it will all end. i've had london scoured for a clue to the whereabouts of hassan and company and drawn absolutely blank! then there's earl dexter. where does he come in? for once in a way he's living in hiding. i can't find his headquarters. i've been thinking--" he drew me aside into the small gallery which runs parallel with the assyrian room. "dexter has booked two passages in the oceanic. who is his companion?" i wondered, i had wondered more than once, if his companion were my beautiful violet-eyed acquaintance. a scruple--perhaps an absurd scruple--hitherto had kept me silent respecting her, but now i determined to take bristol fully into my confidence. a conviction was growing upon me that she and earl dexter together represented that third party whose existence we had long suspected. whether they operated separately or on behalf of the moslems (of which arrangement i could not conceive) remained to be seen. i was about to voice my doubts and suspicions when bristol went on hurriedly-"i have thoroughly examined the burton room, and considering that the windows are thirty feet from the ground, that there is no sign of a ladder having stood upon the lawn, and that the iron bars are quite intact, it doesn't look humanly possible for any one to have been in the room last night prior to mostyn's arrival!" "one of the dwarfs--" "not even one of the dwarfs," said bristol, "could have passed between those iron bars!" "but there was blood on the window!" "i know there was, and human blood. it's been examined!" he stared at me fixedly. the thing was unspeakably uncanny. "to-night," he went on, "i am remaining in here"--nodding toward the assyrian room--"and i have so arranged it that no mortal being can possibly know i am here. mostyn is staying, and you can stay, too, if you care to. owing to professor deeping's will you are badly involved in the beastly business, and i have no doubt you are keen to see it through." "i am," i admitted, "and the end i look for and hope for is the recovery of the slipper by its murderous owners!" "i am with you," said bristol. "it's just a point of honour; but i should be glad to make them a present of it. we're ostentatiously placing a constable on duty in the hallway to-night--largely as a blind. it will appear that we're taking no other additional precautions." he hurried off to make arrangements for my joining him in his watch, and thus again i lost my opportunity of confiding in him regarding the mysterious girl. i half anticipated, though i cannot imagine why, that earl dexter would put in an appearance, during the day. he did not do so, however, for bristol had put a constable on the door who was well acquainted with the appearance of the stetson man. the inspector, in the course of his investigations, had come upon what might have been a clue, but what was at best a confusing one. close by the wall of the curator's house and lying on the gravel path he had found a part of a gold cuff link. it was of american manufacture. upon such slender evidence we could not justly assume that it pointed to the presence of dexter on the night of the attempted robbery, but it served to complicate a matter already sufficiently involved. in pursuance of bristol's plan, i concealed myself that evening just before the closing of the museum doors, in a recess behind a heavy piece of babylonian sculpture. bristol was similarly concealed in another part of the room, and mostyn joined us later. the museum was closed; and so far as evidence went the authorities had relied again upon the bolts and bars hitherto considered impregnable, and upon the constable in the hall. the broken window was mended, the cut blind replaced, and within, in its shattered case, reposed the slipper of the prophet. all the blinds being lowered, the assyrian room was a place of gloom, yellowed on the western side by the moonlight through the blind. the door communicating with the burton room was closed but not fastened. "they operated last night," bristol whispered to me, "at the exact time when the moonlight shone through the hole in the westerly blind on to the case. if they come to-night, and i am quite expecting them, they will have to dispense with that assistance; but they know by experience where to reach the case." "despite our precautions," i said, "they will almost certainly know that a watch is being kept." "they may or they may not," replied bristol. "either way i'm disposed to think there will be another attempt. their mysterious method is so rapid that they can afford to take chances." this was not my first night vigil since i had become in a sense the custodian of the relic, but it was quite the most dreary. amid the tomb-like objects about us we seemed two puny mortals toying with stupendous things. we could not smoke and must converse only in whispers; and so the night wore on until i began to think that our watch would be dully uneventful. "our big chance," whispered mostyn, "is in the fact that any day may change the conditions. they can't afford to wait." he ceased abruptly, grasping my arm. from somewhere, somewhere outside the building, we all three had heard a soft whistle. a moment of tense listening followed. "if only we could have had the place surrounded," whispered bristol--"but it was impossible, of course." a faint grating noise echoed through the lofty burton room. bristol slipped past me in the semi-gloom, and gently opened the communicating door a few inches. a-tiptoe, i joined him, and craning across his shoulder saw a strange and wonderful thing. the newly glazed east window again was shattered with a booming crash! the yellow blind was thrust aside. a long something reached out toward the broken case. there was a sort of fumbling sound, and paralyzed with the wonder of it--for the window, remember, was thirty feet from the ground--i stood frozen to my post. not so bristol. as the weird tentacle (or more exactly it reminded me of a gigantic crab's claw) touched the case, the inspector leapt forward. a white beam from his electric torch cut through to the broken cabinet. the thing was withdrawn ... and with it went the slipper of the prophet. "raise the blinds!" cried bristol. "mr. cavanagh! mr. mostyn! we must not let them give us the slip!" i got up the blind of the nearer window as bristol raised the other. not a living thing was in sight from either! mostyn was beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. i noted how he trembled. bristol turned and looked back at us. the light from his pocket torch flashed upon the curator's face; and i have never seen such an expression of horrified amazement as that which it wore. faintly, i could hear the constable racing up the steps from the hall. ideas of the supernatural came to us all, i know; when, with a scuffling sound not unlike that of a rat in a ceiling, something moved above us! "damn my thick head!" roared bristol, furiously. "he's on the roof! it's flat as a floor and there's enough ivy alongside the water-spout on your house adjoining, mr. mostyn, to afford foothold to an invading army!" he plunged off toward the open door, and i heard him racing down the assyrian room. "he had a short rope ladder fixed from the gutter!" he cried back at us. "graham! graham!" (the constable on duty in the hall)--"get the front door open! get..." his voice died away as he leapt down the stairs. from the direction of orpington square came a horrid, choking scream. it rose hideously; it fell, rose again--and died. the thief escaped. we saw the traces upon the ivy where he had hastened down. bristol ascended by the same route, and found where the ladder-hooks had twice been attached to the gutterway. constable graham, who was first actually to leave the building, declared that he heard the whirr of a re-started motor lower down great orchard street. bristol's theory, later to be dreadfully substantiated, was that the thief had broken the glass and reached into the case with an arrangement similar to that employed for pruning trees, having a clutch at the end, worked with a cord. "hassan has been too clever for us!" said the inspector. "but--what in god's name did that awful screaming mean?" i had a theory, but i did not advance it then. it was not until nearly dawn that my theory, and bristol's, regarding the clutch arrangement, both were confirmed. for close under the railings which abut on orpington square, in a pool of blood we found just such an instrument as bristol had described. and still clutching it was a pallid and ghastly shrunken hand that had been severed from above the wrist! "merciful god!" whispered the inspector--"look at the opal ring on the finger! look at the bandage where he cut himself on the broken window-glass that first night, when mr. mostyn disturbed him. it wasn't the hashishin who stole the thing.... it's earl dexter's hand!" no one spoke for a moment. then-"which of them has--" began mostyn huskily. "the slipper of the prophet?" interrupted bristol. "i wonder if we shall ever know?" chapter xv a shrivelled hand around a large square table in a room at new scotland yard stood a group of men, all of whom looked more or less continuously at something that lay upon the polished deal. one of the party, none other than the commissioner himself, had just finished speaking, and in silence now we stood about the gruesome object which had furnished him with the text of his very terse address. i knew myself privileged in being admitted to such a conference at the c.i.d. headquarters and owed my admission partly to inspector bristol, and partly to the fact that under the will of the late professor deeping i was concerned in the uncanny business we were met to discuss. novelty has a charm for every one; and to find oneself immersed in a maelstrom of eastern devilry, with a group of scientific murderers in pursuit of a holy moslem relic, and unexpectedly to be made a trustee of that dangerous curiosity, makes a certain appeal to the adventurous. but to read of such things and to participate in them are widely different matters. the slipper of the prophet and the dreadful crimes connected with it, the mutilations, murders, the uncanny mysteries which made up its history, were filling my world with horror. now, in silence we stood around that table at new scotland yard and watched, as though we expected it to move, the ghastly "clue" which lay there. it was a shrivelled human hand, and about the thumb and forefinger there still dryly hung a fragment of lint which had bandaged a jagged wound. on one of the shrunken fingers was a ring set with a large opal. inspector bristol broke the oppressive silence. "you see, sir," he said, addressing the commissioner, "this marks a new complication in the case. up to this week although, unfortunately, we had made next to no progress, the thing was straightforward enough. a band of eastern murderers, working along lines quite novel to europe, were concealed somewhere in london. we knew that much. they murdered professor deeping, but failed to recover the slipper. they mutilated everyone who touched it mysteriously. the best men in the department, working night and day, failed to effect a single arrest. in spite of the mysterious activity of hassan of aleppo the slipper was safely lodged in the british antiquarian museum." the commissioner nodded thoughtfully. "there is no doubt," continued bristol, "that the hashishin were watching the museum. mr. cavanagh, here"--he nodded in my direction--"saw hassan himself lurking in the neighbourhood. we took every precaution, observed the greatest secrecy; but in spite of it all a constable who touched the accursed thing lost his right hand. then the slipper was taken." he stopped, and all eyes again were turned to the table. "the yard," resumed bristol slowly, "had information that earl dexter, the cleverest crook in america, was in england. he was seen in the museum, and the night following the slipper was stolen. then outside the place i found--that!" he pointed to the severed hand. no one spoke for a moment. then-"the new problem," said the commissioner, "is this: who took the slipper, dexter or hassan of aleppo?" "that's it, sir," agreed bristol. "dexter had two passages booked in the oceanic: but he didn't sail with her, and--that's his hand!" "you say he has not been traced?" asked the commissioner. "no doctor known to the medical association," replied bristol, "is attending him! he's not in any of the hospitals. he has completely vanished. the conclusion is obvious!" "the evident deduction," i said, "is that dexter stole the slipper from the museum--god knows with what purpose--and that hassan of aleppo recovered it from him." "you think we shall next hear of earl dexter from the river police?" suggested bristol. "personally," replied the commissioner, "i agree with mr. cavanagh. i think dexter is dead, and it is very probable that hassan and company are already homeward bound with the slipper of the prophet." with all my heart i hoped that he might be right, but an intuition was with me crying that he was wrong, that many bloody deeds would be, ere the sacred slipper should return to the east. chapter xvi the dwarf the manner in which we next heard of the whereabouts of the prophet's slipper was utterly unforeseen, wildly dramatic. that the hashishin were aware that i, though its legal trustee, no longer had charge of the relic nor knowledge of its resting-place, was sufficiently evident from the immunity which i enjoyed at this time from that ceaseless haunting by members of the uncanny organization ruled by hassan. i had begun to feel more secure in my chambers, and no longer worked with a loaded revolver upon the table beside me. but the slightest unusual noise in the night still sufficed to arouse me and set me listening intently, to chill me with dread of what it might portend. in short, my nerves were by no means recovered from the ceaseless strain of the events connected with and arising out of the death of my poor friend, professor deeping. one evening as i sat at work in my chambers, with the throb of busy fleet street and its thousand familiar sounds floating in to me through the open windows, my phone bell rang. even as i turned to take up the receiver a foreboding possessed me that my trusteeship was no longer to be a sinecure. it was bristol who had rung me up, and upon very strange business. "a development at last!" he said; "but at present i don't know what to make of it. can you come down now?" "where are you speaking from?" "from the waterloo road--a delightful neighbourhood. i shall be glad if you can meet me at the entrance to wyatt's buildings in half an hour." "what is it? have you found dexter?" "no, unfortunately. but it's murder!" i knew as i hung up the receiver that my brief period of peace was ended; that the lists of assassination were reopened. i hurried out through the court into fleet street, thinking of the key of the now empty case at the museum which reposed at my bankers, thinking of the devils who pursued the slipper, thinking of the hundred and one things, strange and terrible, which went to make up the history of that gruesome relic. wyatt's buildings, waterloo road, are a gloomy and forbidding block of dwellings which seem to frown sullenly upon the high road, from which they are divided by a dark and dirty courtyard. passing an iron gateway, you enter, by way of an arch, into this sinister place of uncleanness. male residents in their shirt sleeves lounge against the several entrances. bedraggled women nurse dirty infants and sit in groups upon the stone steps, rendering them almost impassable. but to-night a thing had happened in wyatt's buildings which had awakened in the inhabitants, hardened to sordid crime, a sort of torpid interest. faces peered from most of the windows which commanded a view of the courtyard, looking like pallid blotches against the darkness; but a number of police confined the loungers within their several doorways, so that the yard itself was comparatively clear. i had had some difficulty in forcing a way through the crowd which thronged the entrance, but finally i found myself standing beside inspector bristol and looking down upon that which had brought us both to wyatt's buildings. there was no moon that night, and only the light of the lamp in the archway, with some faint glimmers from the stairways surrounding the court, reached the dirty paving. bristol directed the light of a pocket-lamp upon the hunched-up figure which lay in the dust, and i saw it to be that of a dwarfish creature, yellow skinned and wearing only a dark loin cloth. he had a malformed and disproportionate head, a head that had been too large even for a big man. i knew after first glance that this was one of the horrible dwarfs employed by the hashishin in their murderous business. it might even be the one who had killed deeping; but this was impossible to determine by reason of the fact that the hideous, swollen head, together with the features, was completely crushed. i shall not describe the creature's appearance in further detail. having given me an opportunity to examine the dead dwarf, bristol returned the electric lamp to his pocket and stood looking at me in the semi-gloom. a constable stood on duty quite near to us, and others guarded the archway and the doors to the dwellings. the murmur of subdued voices echoed hollowly in the wells of the staircases, and a constant excited murmur proceeded from the crowd at the entrance. no pressmen had yet been admitted, though numbers of them were at the gates. "it happened less than an hour ago," said bristol. "the place was much as you see it now, and from what i can gather there came the sound of a shot and several people saw the dwarf fall through the air and drop where he lies!" the light was insufficient to show the expression upon the speaker's face, but his voice told of a great wonder. "it is a bit like an indian conjuring trick," i said, looking up to the sky above us; "who fired the shot?" "so far," replied bristol, "i have failed to find out; but there's a bullet in the thing's head. he was dead before he reached the pavement." "did no one see the flash of the pistol?" "no one that i have got hold of yet. of course this kind of evidence is very unreliable; these people regularly go out of their way to mislead the police." "you think the body may have been carried here from somewhere else?" "oh, no; this is where it fell, right enough. you can see where his head struck the stones." "he has not been moved at all?" "no; i shall not move him until i've worked out where in heaven's name he can have fallen from! you and i have seen some mysterious things happen, mr. cavanagh, since the slipper of the prophet came to england and brought these people"--he nodded toward the thing at our feet--"in its train; but this is the most inexplicable incident to date. i don't know what to make of it at all. quite apart from the question of where the dwarf fell from, who shot at him and why?" "have you no theory?" i asked. "the incident to my mind points directly to one thing. we know that this uncanny creature belonged to the organization of hassan of aleppo. we know that hassan implacably pursues one object--the slipper. in pursuit of the slipper, then, the dwarf came here. bristol!"--i laid my hand upon his arm, glancing about me with a very real apprehension--"the slipper must be somewhere near!" bristol turned to the constable standing hard by. "remain here," he ordered. then to me: "i should like you to come up on to the roof. from there we can survey the ground and perhaps arrive at some explanation of how the dwarf came to fall upon that spot." passing the constable on duty at one of the doorways and making our way through the group of loiterers there, we ascended amid conflicting odours to the topmost floor. a ladder was fixed against the wall communicating with a trap in the ceiling. several individuals in their shirt sleeves and all smoking clay pipes had followed us up. bristol turned upon them. "get downstairs," he said--"all the lot of you, and stop there!" with muttered imprecations our audience dispersed, slowly returning by the way they had come. bristol mounted the ladder and opened the trap. through the square opening showed a velvet patch spangled with starry points. as he passed up on to the roof and i followed him, the comparative cleanness of the air was most refreshing after the varied fumes of the staircase. side by side we leaned upon the parapet looking down into the dirty courtyard which was the theatre of this weird mystery; looking down upon the stage, sordidly western, where a mystic eastern tragedy had been enacted. i could see the constable standing beside the crushed thing upon the stones. "now," said bristol, with a sort of awe in his voice, "where did he fall from?" and at his words, looking down at the spot where the dwarf lay, and noting that he could not possibly have fallen there from any of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, an eerie sensation crept over me; for i was convinced that the happening was susceptible of no natural explanation. i had heard--who has not heard?--of the indian rope trick, where a fakir throws a rope into the air which remains magically suspended whilst a boy climbs upward and upward until he disappears into space. i had never credited accounts of the performance; but now i began seriously to wonder if the arts of hassan of aleppo were not as great or greater than the arts of fakir. but the crowning mystery to my mind was that of the hashishin's death. it would seem that as he had hung suspended in space he had been shot! "you say that someone heard the sound of the shot?" i asked suddenly. "several people," replied bristol; "but no one knows, or no one will say, from what direction it came. i shall go on with the inquiry, of course, and cross-examine every soul in wyatt's buildings. meanwhile, i'm open to confess that i am beaten." in the velvet sky countless points blazed tropically. the hum of the traffic in waterloo road reached us only in a muffled way. sordidness lay beneath us, but up there under the heavens we seemed removed from it as any babylonian astronomer communing with the stars. when, some ten minutes later, i passed out into the noise of waterloo road, i left behind me an unsolved mystery and took with me a great dread; for i knew that the quest of the sacred slipper was not ended, i knew that another tragedy was added to its history--and i feared to surmise what the future might hold for all of us. chapter xvii the woman with the basket deep in thought respecting the inexplicable nature of this latest mystery, i turned in the direction of the bridge, and leaving behind me an ever-swelling throng at the gate of wyatt's buildings, proceeded westward. the death of the dwarf had lifted the case into the realms of the marvellous, and i noted nothing of the bustle about me, for mentally i was still surveying that hunched-up body which had fallen out of empty space. then in upon my preoccupation burst a woman's scream! i aroused myself from reverie, looking about to right and left. evidently i had been walking slowly, for i was less than a hundred yards from wyatt's buildings, and hard by the entrance to an uninviting alley from which i thought the scream had proceeded. and as i hesitated, for i had no desire to become involved in a drunken brawl, again came the shrill scream: "help! help!" i cannot say if i was the only passer-by who heard the cry; certainly i was the only one who responded to it. i ran down the narrow street, which was practically deserted, and heard windows thrown up as i passed for the cries for help continued. just beyond a patch of light cast by a street lamp a scene was being enacted strange enough at any time and in any place, but doubly singular at that hour of the night, or early morning, in a lane off the waterloo road. an old woman, from whose hand a basket of provisions had fallen, was struggling in the grasp of a tall oriental! he was evidently trying to stifle her screams and at the same time to pinion her arms behind her! i perceived that there was more in this scene than met the eye. oriental footpads are rarities in the purlieus of waterloo road. so much was evident; and since i carried a short, sharp argument in my pocket, i hastened to advance it. at the sight of the gleaming revolver barrel the man, who was dressed in dark clothes and wore a turban, turned and ran swiftly off. i had scarce a glimpse of his pallid brown face ere he was gone, nor did the thought of pursuit enter my mind. i turned to the old woman, who was dressed in shabby black and who was rearranging her thick veil in an oddly composed manner, considering the nature of the adventure that had befallen her. she picked up her basket, and turned away. needless to say i was rather shocked at her callous ingratitude, for she offered no word of thanks, did not even glance in my direction, but made off hurriedly toward waterloo road. i had been on the point of inquiring if she had sustained any injury, but i checked the words and stood looking after her in blank wonderment. then my ideas were diverted into a new channel. i perceived, as she passed under an adjacent lamp, that her basket contained provisions such as a woman of her appearance would scarcely be expected to purchase. i noted a bottle of wine, a chicken, and a large melon. the nationality of the assailant from the first had marked the affair for no ordinary one, and now a hazy notion of what lay behind all this began to come to me. keeping well in the shadows on the opposite side of the way, i followed the woman with the basket. the lane was quite deserted; for, the disturbance over, those few residents who had raised their windows had promptly lowered them again. she came out into waterloo road, crossed over, and stood waiting by a stopping-place for electric cars. i saw her arranging a cloth over her basket in such a way as effectually to conceal the contents. a strong mental excitement possessed me. the detective fever claims us all at one time or another, i think, and i had good reason for pursuing any inquiry that promised to lead to the elucidation of the slipper mystery. a theory, covering all the facts of the assault incident, now presented itself, and i stood back in the shadow, watchful; in a degree, exultant. a greenwich-bound car was hailed by the woman with the basket. i could not be mistaken, i felt sure, in my belief that she cast furtive glances about her as she mounted the steps. but, having seen her actually aboard, my attention became elsewhere engaged. all now depended upon securing a cab before the tram car had passed from view! i counted it an act of providence that a disengaged taxi appeared at that moment, evidently bound for waterloo station. i ran out into the road with cane upraised. as the man drew up-"quick!" i cried. "you see that greenwich car--nearly at the ophthalmic hospital? follow it. don't get too near. i will give you further instructions through the tube." i leapt in. we were off! the rocking car ahead was rounding the bend now toward st. george's circus. as it passed the clock and entered south london road it stopped. i raised the tube. "pass it slowly!" we skirted the clock tower, and bore around to the right. then i drew well back in the corner of the cab. the woman with the basket was descending! "pull up a few yards beyond!" i directed. as the car re-started, and passed us, the taxi became stationary. i peered out of the little window at the back. the woman was returning in the direction of waterloo road! "drive slowly back along waterloo road," was my next order. "pretend you are looking for a fare; i will keep out of sight." the man nodded. it was unlikely that any one would notice the fact that the cab was engaged. i was borne back again upon my course. the woman kept to the right, and, once we were entered into the straight road which leads to the bridge, i again raised the speaking-tube. "pull up," i said. "on the right-hand side is an old woman carrying a basket, fifty yards ahead. do you see her? keep well behind, but don't lose sight of her." the man drew up again and sat watching the figure with the basket until it was almost lost from sight. then slowly we resumed our way. i would have continued the pursuit afoot now, but i feared that my quarry might again enter a vehicle. she did not do so, however, but coming abreast of the turning in which the mysterious assault had taken place, she crossed the road and disappeared from view. i leapt out of the cab, thrust half a crown into the man's hand, and ran on to the corner. the night was now far advanced, and i knew that the chances of detection were thereby increased. but the woman seemed to have abandoned her fears, and i saw her just ahead of me walking resolutely past the lamp beyond which a short time earlier she had met with a dangerous adventure. since the opposite side of the street was comparatively in darkness, i slipped across, and in a state of high nervous tension pursued this strange work of espionage. i was convinced that i had forestalled bristol and that i was hot upon the track of those who could explain the mystery of the dead dwarf. the woman entered the gate of the block of dwellings even more forbidding in appearance than those which that night had staged a dreadful drama. as the figure with the basket was lost from view i crept on, and in turn entered the evil-smelling hallway. i stepped cautiously, and standing beneath a gaslight protected by a wire frame, i congratulated myself upon having reached that point of vantage as silently as any sioux stalker. footsteps were receding up the stone stairs. craning my neck, i peered up the well of the staircase. i could not see the woman, but from the sound of her tread it was possible to count the landings which she passed. when she had reached the fourth, and i heard her step upon yet another flight, i knew that she must be bound for the topmost floor; and observing every precaution, almost holding my breath in a nervous endeavour to make not the slightest sound, rapidly i mounted the stairs. i was come to the third landing in this secret fashion when quite distinctly i heard the grating of a key in a lock! since four doors opened upon each of the landings, at all costs, i thought, i must learn by which door she entered. throwing caution to the winds i raced up the remaining flights ... and there at the top the woman confronted me, with blazing eyes!--with eyes that thrilled every nerve; for they were violet eyes, the only truly violet eyes i have ever seen! they were the eyes of the woman who like a charming, mocking will-o'-the-wisp had danced through this tragic scene from the time that poor professor deeping had brought the prophet's slipper to london up to this present hour! there at the head of those stone steps in that common dwelling-house i knew her--and in the violet eyes it was written that she knew, and feared, me! "what do you want? why are you following me?" she made no endeavour to disguise her voice. almost, i think, she spoke the words involuntarily. i stood beside her. quickly as she had turned from the door at my ascent, i had noted that it was that numbered forty-eight which she had been about to open. "you waste words," i said grimly. "who lives there?" i nodded in the direction of the doorway. the violet eyes watched me with an expression in their depths which i find myself wholly unable to describe. fear predominated, but there was anger, too, and with it a sort of entreaty which almost made me regret that i had taken this task upon myself. from beneath the shabby black hat escaped an errant lock of wavy hair wholly inconsistent with the assumed appearance of the woman. the flickering gaslight on the landing sought out in that wonderful hair shades which seemed to glow with the soft light seen in the heart of a rose. the thick veil was raised now and all attempts at deception abandoned. at bay she faced me, this secret woman whom i knew to hold the key to some of the darkest places which we sought to explore. "i live there," she said slowly. "what do you want with me?" "i want to know," i replied, "for whom are those provisions in your basket?" she watched me fixedly. "and i want to know," i continued, "something that only you can tell me. we have met before, madam, but you have always eluded me. this time you shall not do so. there's much i have to ask of you, but particularly i want to know who killed the hashishin who lies dead at no great distance from here!" "how can i tell you that? of what are you speaking?" her voice was low and musical; that of a cultured woman. she evidently recognized the futility of further subterfuge in this respect. "you know quite well of what i am speaking! you know that you can tell me if any one can! the fact that you go disguised alone condemns you! why should i remind you of our previous meetings--of the links which bind you to the history of the prophet's slipper?" she shuddered and closed her eyes. "your present attitude is a sufficient admission!" she stood silent before me, with something pitiful in her pose--a wonderfully pretty woman, whose disarranged hair and dilapidated hat could not mar her beauty; whose clumsy, ill-fitting garments could not conceal her lithe grace. our altercation had not thus far served to arouse any of the inhabitants and on that stuffy landing, beneath the flickering gaslight, we stood alone, a group of two which epitomized strange things. then, with that quietly dramatic note which marks real life entrances and differentiates them from the loudly acclaimed episodes of the stage, a third actor took up his cue. "both hands, mr. cavanagh!" directed an american voice. nerves atwitch, i started around in its direction. from behind the slightly opened door of no. 48 protruded a steel barrel, pointed accurately at my head! i hesitated, glancing from the woman toward the open door. "do it quick!" continued the voice incisively. "you are up against a desperate man, mr. cavanagh. raise your hands. carneta, relieve mr. cavanagh of his gun!" instantly the girl, with deft fingers, had obtained possession of my revolver. "step inside," said the crisp, strident voice. knowing myself helpless and quite convinced that i was indeed in the clutches of desperate people, i entered the doorway, the door being held open from within. she whom i had heard called carneta followed. the door was reclosed; and i found myself in a perfectly bare and dim passageway. from behind me came the order-"go right ahead!" into a practically unfurnished room, lighted by one gas jet, i walked. some coarse matting hung before the two windows and a fairly large grip stood on the floor against one wall. a gas-ring was in the hearth, together with a few cheap cooking utensils. i turned and faced the door. first entered carneta, carrying the basket; then came a man with a revolver in his left hand and his right arm strapped across his chest and swathed in bandages. one glance revealed the fact that his right hand had been severed--revealed the fact, though i knew it already, that my captor was earl dexter. he looked even leaner than when i had last seen him. i had no doubt that his ghastly wound had occasioned a tremendous loss of blood. his gaunt face was positively emaciated, but the steely gray eyes had lost nothing of their brightness. there was a good deal about mr. earl dexter, the cracksman, that any man must have admired. "shut the door, carneta," he said quietly. his companion closed the door and dexter sat down on the grip, regarding me with his oddly humorous smile. "you're a visitor i did not expect, mr. cavanagh," he said. "i expected someone worse. you've interfered a bit with my plans but i don't know that i can't rearrange things satisfactorily. i don't think i'll stop for supper, though--" he glanced at the girl, who stood silent by the door. "just pack up the provisions," he directed, nodding toward the basket--"in the next room." she departed without a word. "that's a noticeable dust coat you're wearing, mr. cavanagh," said the american; "it gives me a great notion. i'm afraid i'll have to borrow it." he glanced, smiling, at the revolver in his left hand and back again to me. there was nothing of the bully about him, nothing melodramatic; but i took off the coat without demur and threw it across to him. "it will hide this stump," he said grimly; "and any of the hashishin gentlemen who may be on the look-out--though i rather fancy the road is clear at the moment--will mistake me for you. see the idea? carneta will be in a cab and i'll be in after her and away before they've got time to so much as whistle." very awkwardly he got into the coat. "she's a clever girl, carneta," he said. "she's doctored me all along since those devils cut my hand off." as he finished speaking carneta returned. she had discarded her rags and wore a large travelling coat and a fashionable hat. "ready?" asked dexter. "we'll make a rush for it. we meant to go to-night anyway. it's getting too hot here!" he turned to me. "sorry to say," he drawled, "i'll have to tie you up and gag you. apologize; but it can't be helped." carneta nodded and went out of the room again, to return almost immediately with a line that looked as though it might have been employed for drying washing. "hands behind you," rapped dexter, toying with the revolver--"and think yourself lucky you've got two!" there was no mistaking the manner of man with whom i had to deal, and i obeyed; but my mind was busy with a hundred projects. very neatly the girl bound my wrists, and in response to a slight nod from dexter threw the end of the line up over a beam in the sloping ceiling, for the room was right under the roof, and drew it up in such a way that, my wrists being raised behind me, i became utterly helpless. it was an ingenious device indicating considerable experience. "just tie his handkerchief around his mouth," directed dexter: "that will keep him quiet long enough for our purpose. i hope you will be released soon, mr. cavanagh," he added. "greatly regret the necessity." carneta bound the handkerchief over my mouth. dexter extinguished the gas. "mr. cavanagh," he said, "i've gone through hell and i've lost the most useful four fingers and a thumb in the united states to get hold of the prophet's slipper. any one can have it that's open to pay for it--but i've got to retire on the deal, so i'll drive a hard bargain! good-night!" there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and i heard the entrance door close quietly. chapter xviii what came through the window i had not been in my unnatural position for many minutes before i began to suffer agonies, agonies not only physical but mental; for standing there like some prisoner of the inquisition, it came to me how this dismantled apartment must be the focus of the dreadful forces of hassan of aleppo! that earl dexter had the slipper of the prophet i no longer doubted, and that he had sustained, in this dwelling beneath the roof, an uncanny siege during the days which had passed since the theft from the antiquarian museum, was equally certain. helpless, gagged, i pictured those hideous creatures, evil products of the secret east, who might, nay, who must surround that place! i thought of the horrible little yellow man who lay dead in wyatt's buildings; and it became evident to me that the house in which i was now imprisoned must overlook the back of those unsavoury tenements. the windows, sack-covered now, no doubt commanded a view of the roofs of the buildings. one of the mysteries that had puzzled us was solved. it was earl dexter who had shot the yellow dwarf as he was bound for this very room! but how humanly the hashishin had proposed to gain his goal, how he had travelled through empty space--for from empty space the shot had brought him down--i could not imagine. i knew something of the almost supernatural attributes of these people. from professor deeping's book i knew of the incredible feats which they could perform when under the influence of the drug hashish. from personal experience also i knew that they had powers wholly abnormal. the pain in my arms and back momentarily increased. an awesome silence ruled. i tortured myself with pictures of murderous yellow men possessed of the power claimed by the mahatmas, of levitation. mentally i could see a distorted half-animal creature carrying a great gleaming knife and floating supernaturally toward me through the night! a soft pattering sound became perceptible on the sloping roof above! i think i have never known such intense and numbing fear as that which now descended upon me. perhaps i may be forgiven it. a more dreadful situation it would be hard to devise. knowing that i was on the fifth story of a house, bound, helpless, i knew, too, that a second mystic guardian of the slipper was come to accomplish the task in which the first had failed! i began to pray fervently. neither of the windows were closed; and now through the intense darkness i heard one of them being raised up--up--up... the sacking was pulled aside inch by inch. silhouetted against the faintly luminous background i saw a hunched, unnatural figure. the real was more dreadful even than the imaginary--for some stray beam of light touched into cold radiance a huge curved knife which the visitant held between his teeth! my fear became a madness, and i twisted my body violently in a wild endeavour to free myself. a dreadful pain shot through my left shoulder, and the whole nightmare scene--the thing with the knife at the window--the low-ceiled room-began to fade away from me. i seemed to be falling into deep water. a splintering crash and the sound of shouting formed my last recollections ere unconsciousness came. i found myself lying in an armchair with bristol forcing brandy between my lips. my left arm hung limply at my side and the pain in my dislocated shoulder was excruciating. "thank god you are all right, mr. cavanagh!" said the inspector. "i got the surprise of my life when we smashed the door in and found you tied up here!" "you came none too soon," i said feebly. "god knows how providence directed you here." "providence it was," replied bristol. "from the roof of wyatt's buildings--you know the spot?--i saw the second yellow devil coming. by god! they meant to have it to-night! they don't value their lives a brass farthing against that damned slipper!" "but how--" "along the telegraph-wires, mr. cavanagh! they cross wyatt's buildings and cross this house. it was a moonless night or we should have seen it at once! i watched him, saw him drop to this roof--and brought the men around to the front." "did he, that awful thing, escape?" "he dropped full forty feet into a tree--from the tree to the ground, and went off like a cat!" "earl dexter has escaped us," i said, "and he has the slipper!" "god help him!" replied bristol. "for by now he has that hell-pack at his heels! what a case! heavens above, it will drive me mad!" chapter xix a rapping at midnight inspector bristol finished his whisky at a gulp and stood up, a tall, massive figure, stretching himself and yawning. "the detective of fiction would be hard at work on this case, now," he said, smiling, "but i don't even pretend to be. i am at a standstill and i don't care who knows it." "you have absolutely no clue to the whereabouts of earl dexter?" "not the slightest, mr. cavanagh. you hear a lot about the machinery of the law, but as a matter of fact, looking for a clever man hidden in london is a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack. then, he may have been bluffing when he told you he had the prophet's slipper. he's already had his hand cut off through interfering with the beastly thing, and i really can't believe he would take further chances by keeping it in his possession. nevertheless, i should like to find him." he leaned back against the mantelpiece, scratching his head perplexedly. in this perplexity he had my sympathy. no such pursuit, i venture to say, had ever before been required of scotland yard as this of the slipper of the prophet. an organization founded in 1090, which has made a science of assassination, which through the centuries has perfected the malign arts, which, lingering on in a dark spot in syria, has suddenly migrated and established itself in london, is a proposition almost unthinkable. it was hard to believe that even the daring american cracksman should have ventured to touch that blood-stained relic of the prophet, that he should have snatched it away from beneath the very eyes of the fanatics who fiercely guarded it. what he hoped to gain by his possession of the slipper was not evident, but the fact remained that if he could be believed, he had it, and provided scotland yard's information was accurate, he still lurked in hiding somewhere in london. meanwhile, no clue offered to his hiding-place, and despite the ceaseless vigilance of the men acting under bristol's orders, no trace could be found of hassan of aleppo nor of his fiendish associates. "my theory is," said bristol, lighting a cigarette, "that even dexter's cleverness has failed to save him. he's probably a dead man by now, which accounts for our failing to find him; and hassan of aleppo has recovered the slipper and returned to the east, taking his gruesome company with him--god knows how! but that accounts for our failing to find him." i stood up rather wearily. although poor deeping had appointed me legal guardian of the relic, and although i could render but a poor account of my stewardship, let me confess that i was anxious to take that comforting theory to my bosom. i would have given much to have known beyond any possibility of doubt that the accursed slipper and its blood-lustful guardian were far away from england. had i known so much, life would again have had something to offer me besides ceaseless fear, endless watchings. i could have slept again, perhaps; without awaking, clammy, peering into every shadow, listening, nerves atwitch to each slightest sound disturbing the night; without groping beneath the pillow for my revolver. "then you think," i said, "that the english phase of the slipper's history is closed? you think that dexter, minus his right hand, has eluded british law--that hassan and company have evaded retribution?" "i do!" said bristol grimly, "and although that means the biggest failure in my professional career, i am glad--damned glad!" shortly afterward he took his departure; and i leaned from the window, watching him pass along the court below and out under the arch into fleet street. he was a man whose opinions i valued, and in all sincerity i prayed now that he might be right; that the surcease of horror which we had recently experienced after the ghastly tragedies which had clustered thick about the haunted slipper, might mean what he surmised it to mean. the heat to-night was very oppressive. a sort of steaming mist seemed to rise from the court, and no cooling breeze entered my opened windows. the clamour of the traffic in fleet street came to me but remotely. big ben began to strike midnight. so far as i could see, residents on the other stairs were all abed and a velvet shadow carpet lay unbroken across three parts of the court. the sky was tropically perfect, cloudless, and jewelled lavishly. indeed, we were in the midst of an indian summer; it seemed that the uncanny visitants had brought, together with an atmosphere of black eastern deviltry, something, too, of the eastern climate. the last stroke of the cathedral bell died away. other more distant bells still were sounding dimly, but save for the ceaseless hum of the traffic, no unusual sound now disturbed the archaic peace of the court. i returned to my table, for during the time that had passed i had badly neglected my work and now must often labour far into the night. i was just reseated when there came a very soft rapping at the outer door! no doubt my mood was in part responsible, but i found myself thinking of poe's weird poem, "the raven"; and like the character therein i found myself hesitating. i stole quietly into the passage. it was in darkness. how odd it is that in moments of doubt instinctively one shuns the dark and seeks the light. i pressed the switch lighting the hall lamp, and stood looking at the closed door. why should this late visitor have rapped in so uncanny a fashion in preference to ringing the bell? i stepped back to my table and slipped a revolver into my pocket. the muffled rapping was repeated. as i stood in the study doorway i saw the flap of the letter-box slowly raised! instantly i extinguished both lights. you may brand me as childishly timid, but incidents were fresh in my memory which justified all my fears. a faintly luminous slit in the door showed me that the flap was now fully raised. it was the dim light on the stairway shining through. then quite silently the flap was lowered. came the soft rapping again. "who's there?" i cried. no one answered. wondering if i were unduly alarming myself, yet, i confess, strung up tensely in anticipation that this was some device of the phantom enemy, i stood in doubt. the silence remained unbroken for thirty seconds or more. then yet again it was disturbed by that ghostly, muffled rapping. i advanced a step nearer to the door. "who's there?" i cried loudly. "what do you want?" the flap of the letter box began to move, and i formed a sudden determination. making no sound in my heelless turkish slippers i crept close up to the door and dropped upon my knees. thereupon the flap became fully lifted, but from where i crouched beneath it i was unable to see who or what was looking in; yet i hesitated no longer. i suddenly raised myself and thrust the revolver barrel through the opening! "who are you?" i cried. "answer or i fire!"--and along the barrel i peered out on to the landing. still no one answered. but something impalpable--a powder--a vapour--to this hour i do not know what--enveloped me with its nauseating fumes; was puffed fully into my face! my eyes, my mouth, my nostrils became choked up, it seemed, with a deadly stifling perfume. wildly, feeling that everything about me was slipping away, that i was sinking into a void, for ought i knew that of dissolution, i pulled the trigger once, twice, thrice... "my god!"--the words choked in my throat and i reeled back into the passage--"it's not loaded!" i threw up my arms to save myself, lurched, and fell forward into what seemed a bottomless pit. chapter xx the golden pavilion when i opened my eyes it was to a conviction that i dreamed. i lay upon a cushioned divan in a small apartment which i find myself at a loss adequately to describe. it was a yellow room, then, its four walls being hung with yellow silk, its floor being entirely covered by a yellow persian carpet. one lamp, burning in a frame of some lemon coloured wood and having its openings filled with green glass, flooded the place with a ghastly illumination. the lamp hung by gold chains from the ceiling, which was yellow. several low tables of the same lemon-hued wood as the lamp-frame stood around; they were inlaid in fanciful designs with gleaming green stones. turn my eyes where i would, clutch my aching head as i might, this dream chamber would not disperse, but remained palpable before me--yellow and green and gold. there was a niche behind the divan upon which i lay framed about with yellow wood. in it stood a golden bowl and a tall pot of yellow porcelain; i lay amid yellow cushions having golden tassels. some of them were figured with vivid green devices. to contemplate my surroundings assuredly must be to court madness. no door was visible, no window; nothing but silk and luxury, yellow and green and gold. to crown all, the air was heavy with a perfume wholly unmistakable by one acquainted with egypt's ruling vice. it was the reek of smouldering hashish--a stench that seemed to take me by the throat, a vapour damnable and unclean. i saw that a little censer, golden in colour and inset with emeralds, stood upon the furthermost corner of the yellow carpet. from it rose a faint streak of vapour; and i followed the course of the sickly scented smoke upward through the still air until in oily spirals it lost itself near to the yellow ceiling. as a sick man will study the veriest trifle i studied that wisp of smoke, pencilled grayly against the silken draperies, the carven tables, against the almost terrifying persistency of the yellow and green and gold. i strove to rise, but was overcome by vertigo and sank back again upon the yellow cushions. i closed my eyes, which throbbed and burned, and rested my head upon my hands. i ceased to conjecture if i dreamed or was awake. i knew that i felt weak and ill, that my head throbbed agonizingly, that my eyes smarted so as to render it almost impossible to keep them open, that a ceaseless humming was in my ears. for some time i lay endeavouring to regain command of myself, to prepare to face again that scene which had something horrifying in its yellowness, touched with the green and gold. and when finally i reopened my eyes, i sat up with a suppressed cry. for a tall figure in a yellow robe from beneath which peeped yellow slippers, a figure crowned with a green turban, stood in the centre of the apartment! it was that of a majestic old man, white bearded, with aquiline nose, and the fierce eagle eyes of a fanatic set upon me sternly, reprovingly. with folded arms he stood watching me, and i drew a sharp breath and rose slowly to my feet. there amid the yellow and green and gold, amid the abominable reek of burning hashish i stood and faced hassan of aleppo! no words came to me; i was confounded. hassan spoke in that gentle voice which i had heard only once before. "mr. cavanagh," he said, "i have brought you here that i might warn you. your police are seeking me night and day, and i am fully alive to my danger whilst i stay in your midst. but for close upon a thousand years the sheikh-al-jebal, lord of the hashishin, has guarded the traditions and the relics of the prophet, salla-'llahu 'ale yhi wasellem! i, hassan of aleppo, am sheikh of the order to-day, and my sacred duty has brought me here." the piercing gaze never left my face. i was not yet by any means my own man and still i made no reply. "you have been wise," continued hassan, "in that you have never touched the sacred slipper. had you lain hands upon it, no secrecy could have availed you. the eye of the hashishin sees all. there is a shaft of light which the true believer perceives at night as he travels toward el-medineh. it is the light which uprises, a spiritual fire, from the tomb of the prophet (salla-'llahu 'aleyhi wasellem!). the relics also are radiant, though in a lesser degree." he took a step toward me, spreading out his lean brown hands, palms downward. "a shaft of light," he said impressively, "shines upward now from london. it is the light of the holy slipper." he gazed intently at the yellow drapery at the left of the divan, but as though he were looking not at the wall but through it. his features worked convulsively; he was a man inspired. "i see it now!" he almost whispered--"that white light by which the guardians of the relic may always know its resting place!" i managed to force words to my lips. "if you know where the slipper is," i said, more for the sake of talking than for anything else, "why do you not recover it?" hassan turned his eyes upon me again. "because the infidel dog," he cried loudly, "who has soiled it with his unclean touch, defies us--mocks us! he has suffered the loss of the offending hand, but the evil ginn protect him; he is inspired by efreets! but god is great and mohammed is his only prophet! we shall triumph; but it is written, oh, daring infidel, that you again shall become the guardian of the slipper!" he spoke like some prophet of old and i stared at him fascinated. i was loth to believe his words. "when again," he continued, "the slipper shall be in the receptacle of which you hold the key, that key must be given to me!" i thought i saw the drift of his words now; i thought i perceived with what object i had been trapped and borne to this mysterious abode for whose whereabouts the police vainly were seeking. by the exercise of the gift of divination it would seem that hassan of aleppo had forecast the future history of the accursed slipper or believed that he had done so. according to his own words i was doomed once more to become trustee of the relic. the key of the case at the antiquarian museum, to which he had prophesied the slipper's return, would be the price of my life! but-"in order that these things may be fulfilled," he continued, "i must permit you to return to your house. so it is written, so it shall be. your life is in my hands; beware when it is demanded of you that you hesitate not in yielding up the key!" he raised his hands before him, making a sort of obeisance, i doubt not in the direction of mecca, drew aside one of the yellow hangings behind him and disappeared, leaving me alone again in that nightmare apartment of yellow and green and gold. a moment i stood watching the swaying curtain. utter silence reigned, and a sort of panic seized me infinitely greater than that occasioned by the presence of the weird sheikh. i felt that i must escape from the place or that i should become raving mad. i leapt forward to the curtain which hassan had raised and jerked it aside; it had concealed a door. in this door and about level with my eyes was a kind of little barred window through which shone a dim green light. i bent forward, peering into the place beyond, but was unable to perceive anything save a vague greenness. and as i peered, half believing that the whole episode was a dreadful, fevered dream, the abominable fumes of hashish grew, or seemed to grow, quite suddenly insupportable. through the square opening, from the green void beyond, a cloud of oily vapour, pungent, stifling, resembling that of burning indian hemp, poured out and enveloped me! with a gasping cry i fell back, fighting for breath, for a breath of clean air unpolluted with hashish. but every inhalation drew down into my lungs the fumes that i sought to escape from. i experienced a deathly sickness; i seemed to be sinking into a sea of hashish, amid bubbles of yellow and green and gold, and i knew no more until, struggling again to my feet, surrounded by utter darkness--i struck my head on the corner of my writing-table ... for i lay in my own study! my revolver, unloaded, was upon the table beside me. the night was very still. i think it must have been near to dawn. "my god!" i whispered, "did i dream it all? did i dream it all?" chapter xxi the black tube "there's no doubt in my mind," said inspector bristol, "that your experience was real enough." the sun was shining into my room now, but could not wholly disperse the cloud of horror which lay upon it. that i had been drugged was sufficiently evident from my present condition, and that i had been taken away from my chambers inspector bristol had satisfactorily proved by an examination of the soles of my slippers. "it was a clever trick," he said. "god knows what it was they puffed into your face through the letter box, but the devilish arts of ten centuries, we must remember, are at the command of hassan of aleppo! the repetition of the trick at the mysterious place you were taken to is particularly interesting. i should say you won't be in a hurry to peer through letter boxes and so forth in the future?" i shook my aching head. "that accursed yellow room," i replied, "stank with the fumes of hashish. it may have been some preparation of hashish that was used to drug me." bristol stood looking thoughtfully from the window. "it was a nightmare business, mr. cavanagh," he said; "but it doesn't advance our inquiry a little bit. the prophecy of the old man with the white beard--whom you assure me to be none other than hassan of aleppo--is something we cannot very well act upon. he clearly believes it himself; for he has released you after having captured you, evidently in order that you may be at liberty to take up your duty as trustee of the slipper again. if the slipper really comes back to the museum the fact will show hassan to be something little short of a magician. i shan't envy you then, mr. cavanagh, considering that you hold the keys of the case!" "no," i replied wearily. "poor professor deeping thought that he acted in my interests and that my possession of the keys would constitute a safeguard. he was wrong. it has plunged me into the very vortex of this ghastly affair." "it is maddening," said bristol, "to know that hassan and company are snugly located somewhere under our very noses, and that all scotland yard can find no trace of them. then to think that hassan of aleppo, apparently by means of some mystical light, has knowledge of the whereabouts of the slipper and consequently of the whereabouts of earl dexter (another badly wanted man) is extremely discouraging! i feel like an amateur; i'm ashamed of myself!" bristol departed in a condition of irritable uncertainty. my head in my hands, i sat for long after his departure, with the phantom characters of the ghoulish drama dancing through my brain. the distorted yellow dwarfs seemed to gibe apish before me. severed hands clenched and unclenched themselves in my face, and gleaming knives flashed across the mental picture. predominant over all was the stately figure of hassan of aleppo, that benignant, remorseless being, that terrible guardian of the holy relic who directed the murderous operations. earl dexter, the stetson man, with his tightly bandaged arm, his gaunt, clean-shaven face and daredevil smile, figured, too, in my feverish daydream; nor was that other character missing, the girl with the violet eyes whose beautiful presence i had come to dread; for like a sybil announcing destruction her appearances in the drama had almost invariably presaged fresh tragedies. i recalled my previous meetings with this woman of mystery. i recalled my many surmises regarding her real identity and association with the case. i wondered why in the not very distant past i had promised to keep silent respecting her; i wondered why up to that present moment, knowing beyond doubt that her activities were inimical to my interests, were criminal, i had observed that foolish pledge. and now my door-bell was ringing--as intuitively i had anticipated. so certain was i of the identity of my visitor that as i walked along the passage i was endeavouring to make up my mind how i should act, how i should receive her. i opened the door; and there, wearing european garments but a green turban ... stood hassan of aleppo! when i say that amazement robbed me of the power to speak, to move, almost to think, i doubt not you will credit me. indeed, i felt that modern london was crumbling about me and that i was become involved in the fantastic mazes of one of those oriental intrigues such as figure in the romance of abu zeyd, or with which most european readers have been rendered familiar by the glowing pages of "the thousand and one nights." "effendim," said my visitor, "do not hesitate to act as i direct!" in his gloved hand he carried what appeared to be an ebony cane. he raised and pointed it directly at me. i perceived that it was, in fact, a hollow tube. "death is in my hand," he continued; "enter slowly and i will follow you." still the sense of unreality held me thralled and my brain refused me service. like an hypnotic subject i walked back to my study, followed by my terrible visitor, who reclosed the door behind him. he sat facing me across my littered table with the mysterious tube held loosely in his grasp. how infinitely more terrifying are perils unknown than those known and appreciated! had a european armed with a pistol attempted a similar act of coercion, i cannot doubt that i should have put up some sort of fight; had he sat before me now as hassan of aleppo sat, with a comprehensible weapon thus laid upon his knees, i should have taken my chance, should have attacked him with the lamp, with a chair, with anything that came to my hand. but before this awful, mysterious being who was turning my life into channels unsuspected, before that black tube with its unknown potentialities, i sat in a kind of passive panic which i cannot attempt to describe, which i had never experienced before and have never known since. "there is one about to visit you," he said, "whom you know, whom i think you expect. for it is written that she shall come and such events cast a shadow before them. i, too, shall be present at your meeting!" his eagle eyes opened widely; they burned with fanaticism. "already she is here!" he resumed suddenly, and bent as one listening. "she comes under the archway; she crossed the courtyard--and is upon the stair! admit her, effendim; i shall be close behind you!" the door-bell rang. with the consciousness that the black tube was directed toward the back of my head, i went and opened the door. my mind was at work again, and busy with plans to terminate this impossible situation. on the landing stood a girl wearing a simple white frock which fitted her graceful figure perfectly. a white straw hat, of the new york tourist type, with a long veil draped from the back suited her delicate beauty very well. the red mouth drooped a little at the corners, but the big violet eyes, like lamps of the soul, seemed afire with mystic light. "mr. cavanagh," she said, very calmly and deliberately, "there is only one way now to end all this trouble. i come from the man who can return the slipper to where it belongs; but he wants his price!" her quiet speech served completely to restore my mental balance, and i noted with admiration that her words were so chosen as to commit her in no way. she knew quite well that thus far she might appear in the matter with impunity, and she clearly was determined to say nothing that could imperil her. "will you please come in?" i said quietly--and stood aside to admit her. exhibiting wonderful composure, she entered--and there, in the badly lighted hallway came face to face with my other visitor! it was a situation so dramatic as to seem unreal. away from that tall figure retreated the girl with the violet eyes--and away--until she stood with her back to the wall. even in the gloom i could see that her composure was deserting her; her beautiful face was pallid. "oh, god!" she whispered, all but inaudible--"you!" hassan, grasping the black rod in his hand, signed to her to enter the study. she stood quite near to me, with her eyes fixed upon him. i bent closer to her. "my revolver--in left-hand table drawer," i breathed in her ear. "get it. he is watching me!" i could not tell if my words had been understood, for, never taking her gaze from the sheikh of the assassins, she sidled into the study. i followed her; and hassan came last of all. just within the doorway he stood, confronting us. "you have come," he said, addressing the girl and speaking in perfect english but with a marked accent, "to open your impudent negotiations through mr. cavanagh for the return of the thrice holy relic to the museum! your companion, the man, who is inspired by the evil one, has even dared to demand ransom for the slipper from me!" hassan was majestic in his wrath; but his eyes were black with venomous hatred. "he has suffered the penalty which the koran lays down; he has lost his right hand. but the lord of all evil protects him, else ere this he had lost his life! move no closer to that table!" i started. either hassan of aleppo was omniscient or he had overheard my whispered words! "easily i could slay you where you stand!" he continued. "but to do so would profit me nothing. this meeting has been revealed to me. last night i witnessed it as i slept. also it has been revealed to me by erroohanee, in the mirror of ink, that the slipper of the prophet, salla-'llahu 'ale yhi wasellem! shall indeed return to that place accursed, that infidel eyes may look upon it! it is the will of allah, whose name be exalted, that i hold my hand, but it is also his will that i be here, at whatever danger to my worthless body." he turned his blazing eyes upon me. "to-morrow, ere noon," he said, "the slipper will again be in the museum from which the man of evil stole it. so it is written; obscure are the ways. we met last night, you and i, but at that time much was dark to me that now is light. the holy 'alee spoke to me in a vision, saying: 'there are two keys to the case in which it will be locked. secure one, leaving the other with him who holds it! let him swear to be secret. this shall be the price of his life!'" the black tube was pointed directly at my forehead. "effendim," concluded the speaker, "place in my hand the key of the case in the antiquarian museum!" hands convulsively clenched, the girl was looking from me to hassan. my throat felt parched, but i forced speech to my lips. "your omniscience fails you," i said. "both keys are at my bank!" blacker grew the fierce eyes--and blacker. i gave myself up for lost; i awaited death--death by some awful, unique means--with what courage i could muster. from the court below came the sound of voices, the voices of passers-by who so little suspected what was happening near to them that had someone told them they certainly had refused to credit it. the noise of busy fleet street came drumming under the archway, too. then, above all, another sound became audible. to this day i find myself unable to define it; but it resembled the note of a silver bell. clearly it was a signal; for, hearing it, hassan dropped the tube and glanced toward the open window. in that instant i sprang upon him! that i had to deal with a fanatic, a dangerous madman, i knew; that it was his life or mine, i was fully convinced. i struck out then and caught him fairly over the heart. he reeled back, and i made a wild clutch for the damnable tube, horrid, unreasoning fear of which thus far had held me inert. i heard the girl scream affrightedly, and i knew, and felt my heart chill to know, that the tube had been wrenched from my hand! hassan of aleppo, old man that he appeared, had the strength of a tiger. he recovered himself and hurled me from him so that i came to the floor crashingly half under my writing-table! something he cried back at me, furiously--and like an enraged animal, his teeth gleaming out from his beard, he darted from the room. the front door banged loudly. shaken and quivering, i got upon my feet. on the threshold, in a state of pitiable hesitancy, stood the pale, beautiful accomplice of earl dexter. one quick glance she flashed at me, then turned and ran! again the door slammed. i ran to the window, looking out into the court. the girl came hurrying down the steps, and with never a backward glance ran on and was lost to view in one of the passages opening riverward. out under the arch, statelily passed a tall figure--and inspector bristol was entering! i saw the detective glance aside as the two all but met. he stood still, and looked back! "bristol!" i cried, and waved my arms frantically. "stop him! stop him! it's hassan of aleppo!" bristol was not the only one to hear my wild cry--not the only one to dash back under the arch and out into fleet street. but hassan of aleppo was gone! chapter xxii the light of el-medineh bristol and i walked slowly in the direction of the entrance of the british antiquarian museum. it was the day following upon the sensational scene in my chambers. "there's very little doubt," said bristol, "that earl dexter has the slipper and that hassan of aleppo knows where dexter is in hiding. i don't know which of the two is more elusive. hassan apparently melted into thin air yesterday; and although the stetson man has never within my experience employed disguises, no one has set eyes upon him since the night that he vanished from his lodgings off the waterloo road. it's always possible for a man to baffle the police by remaining closely within doors, but during all the time that has elapsed dexter must have taken a little exercise occasionally, and the missing hand should have betrayed him." "the wonder to me is," i replied, "that he has escaped death at the hands of the hashishin. he is a supremely daring man, for i should think that he must be carrying the slipper of the prophet about with him!" "i would rather he did it than i!" commented bristol. "for sheer audacity commend me to the stetson man! his idea no doubt was to use you as intermediary in his negotiations with the museum authorities, but that plan failing, he has written them direct, thoughtfully omitting his address, of course!" we were, in fact, at that moment bound for the museum to inspect this latest piece of evidence. "the crowning example of the man's audacity and cleverness," added my companion, "is his having actually approached hassan of aleppo with a similar proposition! how did he get in touch with him? all scotland yard has failed to find any trace of that weird character!" "birds of a feather--" i suggested. "but they are not birds of a feather!" cried bristol. "on your own showing, hassan of aleppo is simply waiting his opportunity to balance dexter's account forever! i always knew dexter was a clever man; i begin to think he's the most daring genius alive!" we mounted the steps of the museum. in the hallway mostyn, the curator, awaited us. having greeted bristol and myself he led the way to his private office, and from a pigeon-hole in his desk took out a letter typewritten upon a sheet of quarto paper. bristol spread it out upon the blotting pad and we bent over it curiously. sir-i believe i can supply information concerning the whereabouts of the missing slipper of mohammed. as any inquiry of this nature must be extremely perilous to the inquirer and as the relic is a priceless one, my fee would be 10,000 pounds. the fanatics who seek to restore the slipper to the east must not know of any negotiations, therefore i omit my address, but will communicate further if you care to insert instructions in the agony column of times. faithfully, earl dexter bristol laughed grimly. "it's a daring game," he said; "a piece of barefaced impudence quite characteristic. "he's posing as a sort of private detective now, and is prepared for a trifling consideration to return the slipper which he stole himself! he must know, though, that we have his severed hand at the yard to be used in evidence against him." "is the burton room open to the public again?" i asked mostyn. "it is open, yes," he replied, "and a quite unusual number of visitors come daily to gaze at the empty case which once held the slipper of the prophet." "has the case been mended?" "yes; it is quite intact again; only the exhibit is missing." we ascended the stairs, passed along the assyrian room, which seemed to be unusually crowded, and entered the lofty apartment known as the burton room. the sunblinds were drawn, and a sort of dim, religious light prevailed therein. a group of visitors stood around an empty case at the farther end of the apartment. "you see," said mostyn, pointing, "that empty case has a greater attraction than all the other full ones!" but i scarcely heeded his words, for i was intently watching the movements of one of the group about the empty case. i have said that the room was but dimly illuminated, and this fact, together no doubt with some effect of reflected light, enhanced by my imagination, perhaps produced the phenomenon which was occasioning me so much amazement. remember that my mind was filled with memories of weird things, that i often found myself thinking of that mystic light which hassan of aleppo had called the light of el-medineh--that light whereby, undeterred by distance, he claimed to be able to trace the whereabouts of any of the relics of the prophet. bristol and mostyn walked on then; but i stood just within the doorway, intently, breathlessly watching an old man wearing an out-of-date inverness coat and a soft felt hat. he had a gray beard and moustache, and long, untidy hair, walked with a stoop, and in short was no unusual type of visitor to that institution. but it seemed to me, and the closer i watched him the more convinced i became, that this was no optical illusion, that a faint luminosity, a sort of elfin light, played eerily about his head! as bristol and mostyn approached the case the old man began to walk toward me and in the direction of the door. the idea flashed through my mind that it might be hassan of aleppo himself, hassan who had predicted that the stolen slipper should that day be returned to the museum! then he came abreast of me, passed me, and i felt that my surmise had been wrong. i saw bristol, from farther up the room, turn and look back. something attracted his trained eye, i suppose, which was not perceptible to me. but he suddenly came striding along. obviously he was pursuing the old man, who was just about to leave the apartment. seeing that the latter had reached the doorway, bristol began to run. the old man turned; and amid a chorus of exclamations from the astonished spectators, bristol sprang upon him! how it all came about i cannot say, cannot hope to describe; but there was a short, sharp scuffle, the crack of a well-directed blow ... and bristol was rolling on his back, the old man, hatless, was racing up the assyrian room, and everyone in the place seemed to be shouting at once! bristol, with blood streaming from his face, staggered to his feet, clutching at me for support. "after him, mr. cavanagh!" he cried hoarsely. "it's your turn to-day! after him! that's earl dexter!" mostyn waited for no more, but went running quickly through the assyrian room. i may mention here that at the head of the stairs he found the caped inverness which had served to conceal dexter's mutilated arm, and later, behind a piece of statuary, a wig and a very ingenious false beard and moustache were discovered. but of the stetson man there was no trace. his brief start had enabled him to make good his escape. as mostyn went off, and a group of visitors flocked in our direction, bristol, who had been badly shaken by the blow, turned to them. "you will please all leave the burton room immediately," he said. looks of surprise greeted his words; but with his handkerchief raised to his face, he peremptorily repeated them. the official note in his voice was readily to be detected; and the wonder-stricken group departed with many a backward glance. as the last left the burton room, bristol pointed, with a rather shaky finger, at the soft felt hat which lay at his feet. it had formed part of dexter's disguise. close beside it lay another object which had evidently fallen from the hat--a dull red thing lying on the polished parquet flooring. "for god's sake don't go near it!" whispered bristol. "the room must be closed for the present. and now i'm off after that man. step clear of it." his words were unnecessary; i shunned it as a leprous thing. it was the slipper of the prophet! chapter xxiii the three messages i stood in the foyer of the astoria hotel. about me was the pulsing stir of transatlantic life, for the tourist season was now at its height, and i counted myself fortunate in that i had been able to secure a room at this establishment, always so popular with american visitors. chatting groups surrounded me and i became acquainted with numberless projects for visiting the tower of london, the national gallery, the british museum, windsor castle, kew gardens, and the other sights dear to the heart of our visiting cousins. loaded lifts ascended and descended. bradshaws were in great evidence everywhere; all was hustle and glad animation. the tall military-looking man who stood beside me glanced about him with a rather grim smile. "you ought to be safe enough here, mr. cavanagh!" he said. "i ought to be safe enough in my own chambers," i replied wearily. "how many of these pleasure-seeking folk would believe that a man can be as greatly in peril of his life in fleet street as in the most uncivilized spot upon the world map? do you think if i told that prosperous new yorker who is buying a cigar yonder, for instance, that i had been driven from my chambers by a band of eastern assassins founded some time in the eleventh century, he would believe it?" "i am certain he wouldn't!" replied bristol. "i should not have credited it myself before i was put in charge of this damnable case." my position at that hour was in truth an incredible one. the sacred slipper of mohammed lay once more in the glass case at the antiquarian museum from which earl dexter had stolen it. now, with apish yellow faces haunting my dreams, with ghostly menaces dogging me day and night, i was outcast from my own rooms and compelled, in self-defence, to live amid the bustle of the astoria. so wholly nonplussed were the police authorities that they could afford me no protection. they knew that a group of scientific murderers lay hidden in or near to london; they knew that earl dexter, the foremost crook of his day, was also in the metropolis--and they could make no move, were helpless; indeed, as bristol had confessed, were hopeless! bristol, on the previous day, had unearthed the greek cigar merchant, acepulos, who had replaced the slipper in its case (for a monetary consideration). he had performed a similar service when the bloodstained thing had first been put upon exhibition at the museum, and for a considerable period had disappeared. we had feared that his religious pretensions had not saved him from the avenging scimitar of hassan; but quite recently he had returned again to his soho shop, and in time thus to earn a second cheque. as bristol and i stood glancing about the foyer of the hotel, a plain-clothes officer whom i knew by sight came in and approached my companion. i could not divine the fact, of course, but i was about to hear news of the money-loving and greatly daring graeco-moslem. the detective whispered something to bristol, and the latter started, and paled. he turned to me. "they haven't overlooked him this time, mr. cavanagh," he said. "acepulos has been found dead in his room, nearly decapitated!" i shuddered involuntarily. even there, amid the chatter and laughter of those light-hearted tourists, the shadow of hassan of aleppo was falling upon me. bristol started immediately for soho and i parted from him in the strand, he proceeding west and i eastward, for i had occasion that morning to call at my bank. it was the time of the year when london is full of foreigners, and as i proceeded in the direction of fleet street i encountered more than one oriental. to my excited imagination they all seemed to glance at me furtively, with menacing eyes, but in any event i knew that i had little to fear whilst i contrived to keep to the crowded thoroughfares. solitude i dreaded and with good reason. then at the door of the bank i found fresh matter for reflection. the assistant manager, mr. colby, was escorting a lady to the door. as i stood aside, he walked with her to a handsome car which waited, and handed her in with marks of great deference. she was heavily veiled and i had no more than a glimpse of her, but she appeared to be of middle age and had gray hair and a very stately manner. i told myself that i was unduly suspicious, suspicious of everyone and of everything; yet as i entered the bank i found myself wondering where i had seen that dignified, grayhaired figure before. i even thought of asking the manager the name of his distinguished customer, but did not do so, for in the circumstances such an inquiry must have appeared impertinent. my business transacted, i came out again by the side entrance which opens on the little courtyard, for this branch of the london county and provincial bank occupies a corner site. a ragged urchin who was apparently waiting for me handed me a note. i looked at him inquiringly. "for me?" i said. "yes, sir. a dark gentleman pointed you out as you was goin' into the bank." the note was written upon a half sheet of paper and, doubting if it was really intended for me, i unfolded it and read the following- mr. cavanagh, take the keys of the case containing the holy slipper to your hotel this evening without fail. hassan. "who gave you this, boy?" i asked sharply. "a foreign gentleman, sir, very dark--like an indian." "where is he?" "he went off in a cab, sir, after he give me the note." i handed the boy sixpence and slowly pursued my way. an idea was forming in my mind to trap the enemy by seeming acquiescent. i wondered if my movements were being watched at that moment. since it was more than probable, i returned to the bank, entered, and made some trivial inquiry of a cashier, and then came out again and walked on as far as the report office. i had not been in the office more than five minutes before i received a telegram from inspector bristol. it had been handed in at soho, and the message was an odd one. cavanagh, report, london. plot afoot to steal keys. get them from bank and join me 11 o'clock at astoria. have planned trap. bristol. this was very mysterious in view of the note so recently received by me, but i concluded that bristol had hit upon a similar plan to that which was forming in my own mind. it seemed unnecessarily hazardous, though, actually to withdraw the keys from their place of safety. pondering deeply upon the perplexities of this maddening case, i shortly afterward found myself again at the bank. with the manager i descended to the strong-room, and the safe was unlocked which contained the much-sought-for keys of the case at the antiquarian museum. "there are the keys, quite safe!--and by the way, this is my second visit here this morning, mr. cavanagh," said the manager, with whom i was upon rather intimate terms. "a foreign lady who has recently become a customer of the bank deposited some valuable jewels here this morning--less than an hour ago, in fact." "indeed," i said, and my mind was working rapidly. "the lady who came in the large blue car, a gray-haired lady?" "yes," was the reply, "did you notice her, then?" i nodded and said no more, for in truth i had no more to say. i had good reason to respect the uncanny powers of hassan of aleppo, but i doubted if even his omniscience could tell him (since i had actually gone down into the strong-room) whether when i emerged i had the keys, or whether my visit and seeming acceptance of his orders had been no more than a subterfuge! that the hashishin had some means of communicating with me at the astoria was evident from the contents of the note which i had received, and as i walked in the direction of the hotel my mind was filled with all sorts of misgivings. i was playing with fire! had i done rightly or should i have acted otherwise? i sighed wearily. the dark future would resolve all my doubts. when i reached the astoria, bristol had not arrived. i lighted a cigarette and sat down in the lounge to await his coming. presently a boy approached, handing me a message which had been taken down from the telephone by the clerk. it was as follows- tell mr. cavanagh, who is waiting in the hotel, to take what i am expecting to his chambers, and say that i will join him there in twenty minutes. inspector bristol. again i doubted the wisdom of bristol's plan. had i not fled to the astoria to escape from the dangerous solitude of my rooms? that he was laying some trap for the hashishin was sufficiently evident, and whilst i could not justly suspect him of making a pawn of me i was quite unable to find any other explanation of this latest move. i was torn between conflicting doubts. i glanced at my watch. yes! there was just time for me to revisit the bank ere joining bristol at my chambers! i hesitated. after all, in what possible way could it jeopardize his plans for me merely to pretend to bring the keys? "hang it all!" i said, and jumped to my feet. "these maddening conjectures will turn my brain! i'll let matters stand as they are, and risk the consequences!" i hesitated no longer, but passed out from the hotel and once more directed my steps in the direction of fleet street. as i passed in under the arch through which streamed many busy workers, i told myself that to dread entering my own chambers at high noon was utterly childish. yet i did dread doing so! and as i mounted the stair and came to the landing, which was always more or less dark, i paused for quite a long time before putting the key in the lock. the affair of the accursed slipper was playing havoc with my nerves, and i laughed dryly to note that my hand was not quite steady as i turned the key, opened my door, and slipped into the dim hallway. as i closed it behind me, something, probably a slight noise, but possibly something more subtle--an instinct--made me turn rapidly. there facing me stood hassan of aleppo. chapter xxiv i keep the appointment that moment was pungent with drama. in the intense hush of the next five seconds i could fancy that the world had slipped away from me and that i was become an unsubstantial thing of dreams. i was in no sense master of myself; the effect of the presence of this white-bearded fanatic was of a kind which i am entirely unable to describe. about hassan of aleppo was an aroma of evil, yet of majesty, which marked him strangely different from other men--from any other that i have ever known. in his venerable presence, remembering how he was sheikh of the assassins, and recalling his bloody history, i was always conscious of a weakness, physical and mental. he appalled me; and now, with my back to the door, i stood watching him and watching the ominous black tube which he held in his hand. it was a weapon unknown to europe and therefore more fearful than the most up-to-date of death-dealing instruments. hassan of aleppo pointed it toward me. "the keys, effendim," he said; "hand me the keys!" he advanced a step; his manner was imperious. the black tube was less than a foot removed from my face. that i had my revolver in my pocket could avail me nothing, for in my pocket it must remain, since i dared to make no move to reach it under cover of that unfamiliar, terrible weapon. the black eyes of hassan glared insanely into mine. "you will have placed them in your pocketcase," he said. "take it out; hand it to me!" i obeyed, for what else could i do? taking the case from my pocket, i placed it in his lean brown hand. an expression of wild exultation crossed his features; the eagle eyes seemed to be burning into my brain. a puff of hot vapour struck me in the face--something which was expelled from the mysterious black tube. and with memories crowding to my mind of similar experiences at the hands of the hashishin, i fell back, clutching at my throat, fighting for my life against the deadly, vaporous thing that like a palpable cloud surrounded me. i tried to cry out, but the words died upon my tongue. hassan of aleppo seemed to grow huge before my eyes like some ginn of eastern lore. then a curtain of darkness descended. i experienced a violent blow upon the forehead (i suppose i had pitched forward), and for the time resigned my part in the drama of the sacred slipper. chapter xxv the watcher in bank chambers at about five o'clock that afternoon inspector bristol, who had spent several hours in soho upon the scene of the murder of the greek, was walking along fleet street, bound for the offices of the report. as he passed the court, on the corner of which stands a branch of the london county and provincial bank, his eye was attracted by a curious phenomenon. there are reflectors above the bank windows which face the court, and it appeared to bristol that there was a hole in one of these, the furthermost from the corner. a tiny beam of light shone from the bank window on to the reflector, or from the reflector on to the window, which circumstance in itself was not curious. but above the reflector, at an acute angle, this mysterious beam was seemingly projected upward. walking a little way up the court he saw that it shone through, and cast a disc of light upon the ceiling of an office on the first floor of bank chambers above. it is every detective's business to be observant, and although many thousands of passersby must have cast their eyes in the same direction that day, there is small matter for wonder in the fact that bristol alone took the trouble to inquire into the mystery--for his trained eye told him that there was a mystery here. possibly he was in that passive frame of mind when the brain is particularly receptive of trivial impressions; for after a futile search of the soho cigar store for anything resembling a clue, he was quite resigned to the idea of failure in the case of hassan and company. he walked down the court and into the entrance of bank chambers. an inspection of the board upon the wall showed him that the first floor apparently was occupied by three firms, two of them legal, for this is the neighbourhood of the law courts, and the third a press agency. he stepped up to the first floor. past the doors bearing the names of the solicitors and past that belonging to the press agent he proceeded to a fourth suite of offices. here, pinned upon the door frame, appeared a card which bore the legend- the congo fibre company evidently the congo fibre company had so recently taken possession of the offices that there had been no time to inscribe their title either upon the doors or upon the board in the hall. inspector bristol was much impressed, for into one of the rooms occupied by the fibre company shone that curious disc of light which first had drawn his attention to bank chambers. he rapped on the door, turned the handle, and entered. the sole furniture of the office in which he found himself apparently consisted of one desk and an office stool, which stool was occupied by an office boy. the windows opened on the court, and a door marked "private" evidently communicated with an inner office whose windows likewise must open on the court. it was the ceiling of this inner office, unless the detective's calculation erred, which he was anxious to inspect. "yes, sir?" said the boy tentatively. bristol produced a card which bore the uncompromising legend: john henry smith. "take my card to mr. boulter, boy," he said tersely. the boy stared. "mr. boulter, sir? there isn't any one of that name here." "oh!" said bristol, looking around him in apparent surprise: "how long is he gone?" "i don't know, sir. i've only been here three weeks, and mr. knowlson only took the offices a month ago." "oh," commented bristol, "then take my card to mr. knowlson; he will probably be able to give me mr. boulter's present address." the boy hesitated. the detective had that authoritative manner which awes the youthful mind. "he's out, sir," he said, but without conviction. "is he?" rapped bristol. "well, i'll leave my card." he turned and quitted the office, carefully closing the door behind him. three seconds later he reopened it, and peering in, was in time to see the boy knock upon the private door. a little wicket, or movable panel, was let down, the card of john henry smith was passed through to someone unseen, and the wicket was reclosed! the boy turned and met the wrathful eye of the detective. bristol reentered, closing the door behind him. "see here, young fellow," said he, "i don't stand for those tricks! why didn't you tell me mr. knowlson was in?" "i'm very sorry, sir!"--the boy quailed beneath his glance--"but he won't see any one who hasn't an appointment." "is there someone with him, then?" "no." "well, what's he doing?" "i don't know, sir; i've never been in to see!" "what! never been in that room?" "never!" declared the boy solemnly. "and i don't mind telling you," he added, recovering something of his natural confidence, "that i am leaving on the 31st. this job ain't any use to me!" "too much work?" suggested bristol. "no work at all!" returned the boy indignantly. "i'm just here for a blessed buffer, that's what i'm here for, a buffer!" "what do you mean?" "i just have to sit here and see that nobody gets into that office. lively, ain't it? where's the prospects?" bristol surveyed him thoughtfully. "look here, my lad," he said quietly; "is that door locked?" "always," replied the boy. "does mr. knowlson come to that shutter when you knock?" "yes." "then go and knock!" the boy obeyed with alacrity. he rapped loudly on the door, not noticing or not caring that the visitor was standing directly behind him. the shutter was lowered and a grizzled, bearded face showed for a moment through the opening. bristol leant over the boy and pushed a card through into the hand of the man beyond. on this occasion it did not bear the legend "john henry smith," but the following- chief inspector bristol c.i.d. new scotland yard "good afternoon, mr. knowlson," said the detective dryly. "i want to come in!" there followed a moment of silence, from which bristol divined that he had blundered upon some mystery, possibly upon a big case; then a key was turned in the lock and the door thrown open. "come right in, inspector," invited a strident voice. "carter, you can go home." bristol entered warily, but not warily enough. for as the door was banged upon his entrance he faced around only in time to find himself looking down the barrel of a colt automatic. with his back to the door which contained the wicket, now reclosed, stood the man with the bearded face. the revolver was held in his left hand; his right arm terminated in a bandaged stump. but without that his steel-gray eyes would have betrayed him to the detective. "good god!" whispered bristol. "it's earl dexter!" "it is!" replied the cracksman, "and you've looked in at a real inconvenient time! my visitors mostly seem to have that knack. i'll have to ask you to stay, inspector. sit down in that chair yonder." bristol knew his man too well to think of opening any argument at that time. he sat down as directed, and ignoring the revolver which covered him all the time, began coolly to survey the room in which he found himself. in several respects it was an extraordinary apartment. the only bright patch in the room was the shining disc upon the ceiling; and the detective noted with interest that this marked the position of an arrangement of mirrors. a white-covered table, entirely bare, stood upon the floor immediately beneath this mysterious apparatus. with the exception of one or two ordinary items of furniture and a small hand lathe, the office otherwise was unfurnished. bristol turned his eyes again upon the daring man who so audaciously had trapped him--the man who had stolen the slipper of the prophet and suffered the loss of his hand by the scimitar of an hashishin as a result. when he had least expected to find one, fate had thrown a clue in bristol's way. he reflected grimly that it was like to prove of little use to him. "now," said dexter, "you can do as you please, of course, but you know me pretty well and i advise you to sit quiet." "i am sitting quiet!" was the reply. "i am sorry," continued dexter, with a quick glance at his maimed arm, "that i can't tie you up, but i am expecting a friend any moment now." he suddenly raised the wicket with a twitch of his elbow and, without removing his gaze from the watchful detective, cried sharply-"carter!" but there was no reply. "good; he's gone!" dexter sat down facing bristol. "i have lost my hand in this game, mr. bristol," he said genially, "and had some narrow squeaks of losing my head; but having gone so far and lost so much i'm going through, if i don't meet a funeral! you see i'm up against two tough propositions." bristol nodded sympathetically. "the first," continued dexter, "is you and cavanagh, and english law generally. my idea--if i can get hold of the slipper again--oh! you needn't stare; i'm out for it!--is to get the antiquarian institution to ransom it. it's a line of commercial speculation i have worked successfully before. there's a dozen rich highbrows, cranks to a man, connected with it, and they are my likeliest buyers--sure. but to keep the tone of the market healthy there's hassan of aleppo, rot him! he's a dangerous customer to approach, but you'll note i've been in negotiation with him already and am still, if not booming, not much below par!" "quite so," said bristol. "but you've cut off a pretty hefty chew nevertheless. they used to call you the stetson man, you used to dress like a fashion plate and stop at the big hotels. those days are past, dexter, i'm sorry to note. you're down to the skulking game now and you're nearer an advert for clarkson than stein-bloch!" "yep," said dexter sadly, "i plead guilty, but i think here's carneta!" bristol heard the door of the outer office open, and a moment later that upon which his gaze was set opened in turn, to admit a girl who was heavily veiled, and who started and stood still in the doorway, on perceiving the situation. never for one unguarded moment did the american glance aside from his prisoner. "the inspector's dropped in, carneta!" he drawled in his strident way. "you're handy with a ball of twine; see if you can induce him to stay the night!" the girl, immediately recovering her composure, took off her hat in a businesslike way and began to look around her, evidently in search of a suitable length of rope with which to fasten up bristol. "might i suggest," said the detective, "that if you are shortly quitting these offices a couple of the window-cords neatly joined would serve admirably?" "thanks," drawled dexter, nodding to his companion, who went into the outer office, where she might be heard lowering the windows. she was gone but a few moments ere she returned again, carrying a length of knotted rope. under cover of dexter's revolver, bristol stoically submitted to having his wrists tied behind him. the end of the line was then thrown through the ventilator above the door which communicated with the outer office and bristol was triced up in such a way that, his wrists being raised behind him to an uncomfortable degree, he was almost forced to stand upon tiptoe. the line was then secured. "very workmanlike!" commented the victim. "you'll find a large handkerchief in my inside breast pocket. it's a clean one, and i can recommend it as a gag!" very promptly it was employed for the purpose, and inspector bristol found himself helpless and constrained in a very painful position. dexter laid down his revolver. "we will now give you a free show, inspector," he said, genially, "of our camera obscura!" he pulled down the blinds, which bristol noted with interest to be black, but through an opening in one of them a mysterious ray of light--the same that he had noticed from fleet street--shone upon that point in the ceiling where the arrangement of mirrors was attached. dexter made some alteration, apparently in the focus of the lens (for bristol had divined that in some way a lens had been fixed in the reflector above the bank window below) and the disc of light became concentrated. the white-covered table was moved slightly, and in the darkness some further manipulation was performed. "observe," came the strident voice--"we now have upon the screen here a minute moving picture. this little device, which is not protected in any way, is of my own invention, and proved extremely useful in the arkwright jewel case, which startled chicago. it has proved useful now. i know almost as much concerning the arrangements below as the manager himself. in confidence, inspector, this is my last bid for the slipper! i have plunged on it. madame sforza, the distinguished italian lady who recently opened an account below, opened it for 500 pounds cash. she has drawn a portion, but a balance remains which i am resigned to lose. her motor-car (hired), her references (forged), the case of jewels which she deposited this morning (duds!)--all represent a considerable outlay. it's a nerve-racking line of operation, too. any hour of the day may bring such a visitor as yourself, for example. in short, i am at the end of my tether." bristol, ignoring the increasing pain in his arms and wrists, turned his eyes upon the white-covered table and there saw a minute and clear-cut picture, such as one sees in a focussing screen, of the interior of the manager's office of the london county and provincial bank! chapter xxvi the strong-room i wonder how often a sense of humour has saved a man from desperation? perhaps only the easterns have thoroughly appreciated that divine gift. i have interpolated the adventure of inspector bristol in order that the sequence of my story be not broken; actually i did not learn it until later, but when, on the following day, the whole of the facts came into my possession, i laughed and was glad that i could laugh, for laughter has saved many a man from madness. certainly the fates were playing with us, for at a time very nearly corresponding with that when bristol found himself bound and helpless in bank chambers i awoke to find myself tied hand and foot to my own bed! nothing but the haziest recollections came to me at first, nothing but dim memories of the awful being who had lured me there; for i perceived now that all the messages proceeded, not from bristol, but from hassan of aleppo! i had been a fool, and i was reaping the fruits of my folly. could i have known that almost within pistol shot of me the inspector was trussed up as helpless as i, then indeed my situation must have become unbearable, since upon him i relied for my speedy release. my ankles were firmly lashed to the rails at the foot of my bed; each of my wrists was tied back to a bedpost. i ached in every limb and my head burned feverishly, which latter symptom i ascribed to the powerful drug which had been expelled into my face by the uncanny weapon carried by hassan of aleppo. i reflected bitterly how, having transferred my quarters to the astoria, i could not well hope for any visitor to my chambers; and even the event of such a visitor had been foreseen and provided against by the cunning lord of the hashishin. a gag, of the type which dumas has described in "twenty years after," the poire d'angoisse, was wedged firmly into my mouth, so that only by preserving the utmost composure could i breathe. i was bathed in cold perspiration. so i lay listening to the familiar sounds without and reflecting that it was quite possible so to lie, undisturbed, and to die alone, my presence there wholly unsuspected! once, toward dusk, my phone bell rang, and my state of mind became agonizing. it was maddening to think that someone, a friend, was virtually within reach of me, yet actually as far removed as if an ocean divided us! i tasted the hellish torments of tantalus. i cursed fate, heaven, everything; i prayed; i sank into bottomless depths of despair and rose to dizzy pinnacles of hope, when a footstep sounded on the landing and a thousand wild possibilities, vague possibilities of rescue, poured into my mind. the visitor hesitated, apparently outside my door; and a change, as sudden as lightning out of a cloud, transformed my errant fancies. a gruesome conviction seized me, as irrational as the hope which it displayed, that this was one of the hashishin--an apish yellow dwarf, a strangler, the awful hassan himself! the footsteps receded down the stairs. and my thoughts reverted into the old channels of dull despair. i weighed the chances of bristol's seeking me there; and, eager as i was to give them substance, found them but airy--ultimately was forced to admit them to be nil. so i lay, whilst only a few hundred yards from me a singular scene was being enacted. bristol, a prisoner as helpless as myself, watched the concluding business of the day being conducted in the bank beneath him; he watched the lift descend to the strongroom--the spying apparatus being slightly adjusted in some way; he saw the clerks hastening to finish their work in the outer office, and as he watched, absorbed by the novelty of the situation, he almost forgot the pain and discomfort which he suffered... "this little peep-show of ours has been real useful," dexter confided out of the darkness. "i got an impression of the key of the strongroom door a week ago, and carneta got one of the keys of the safe only this morning, when she lodged her box of jewellery with the bank! i was at work on that key when you interrupted me, and as by means of this useful apparatus i have learnt the combination, you ought to see some fun in the next few hours!" bristol repressed a groan, for the prospect of remaining in that position was thus brought keenly home to him. the bank staff left the premises one by one until only a solitary clerk worked on at a back desk. his task completed, he, too, took his departure and the bank messenger commenced his nightly duty of sweeping up the offices. it was then that excitement like an anaesthetic dulled the detective's pain--indeed, he forgot his aching body and became merely a watchful intelligence. so intent had he become upon the picture before him that he had not noticed the fact that he was alone in the office of the congo fibre company. now he realized it from the absolute silence about him, and from another circumstance. the spying apparatus had been left focussed, and on to the screen beneath his eyes, bending low behind the desks and creeping, indian-like, around, toward the head of the stair which communicated with the strongroom and the apartment used by the messenger, came the alert figure of earl dexter! it may be a surprise to some people to learn that at any time in the day the door of a bank, unguarded, should be left open, when only a solitary messenger is within the premises; yet for a few minutes at least each evening this happens at more than one city bank, where one of the duties of the resident messenger is to clean the outer steps. dexter had taken advantage of the man's absence below in quest of scrubbing material to enter the bank through the open door. watching, breathless, and utterly forgetful of his own position, bristol saw the messenger, all unconscious of danger, come up the stairs carrying a pail and broom. as his head reached the level of the railings the stetson man neatly sand-bagged him, rushed across to the outer door, and closed it! given duplicate keys and the private information which dexter so ingeniously had obtained, there are many london banks vulnerable to similar attack. certainly, bullion is rarely kept in a branch storeroom, but the detective was well aware that the keys of the case containing the slipper were kept in this particular safe! he was convinced, and could entertain no shadowy doubt, that at last dexter had triumphed. he wondered if it had ever hitherto fallen to the lot of a representative of the law thus to be made an accessory to a daring felony! but human endurance has well-defined limits. the fading light rendered the ingenious picture dim and more dim. the pain occasioned by his position became agonizing, and uttering a stifled groan he ceased to take an interest in the robbery of the london county and provincial bank. fate is a comedian; and when later i learned how i had lain strapped to my bed, and, so near to me, bristol had hung helpless as a butchered carcass in the office of the congo fibre company, whilst, in our absence from the stage, the drama of the slipper marched feverish to its final curtain, i accorded fate her well-earned applause. i laughed; not altogether mirthfully. chapter xxvii the slipper someone was breaking in at the door of my chambers! i aroused myself from a state of coma almost death-like and listened to the blows. the sun was streaming in at my windows. a splintering crash told of a panel broken. then a moment later i heard the grating of the lock, and a rush of footsteps along the passage. "try the study!" came a voice that sounded like bristol's, save that it was strangely weak and shaky. almost simultaneously the inspector himself threw open the bedroom door--and, very pale and haggard-eyed, stood there looking across at me. it was a scene unforgettable. "mr. cavanagh!" he said huskily--"mr. cavanagh! thank god you're alive! but"--he turned--"this way, marden!" he cried, "untie him quickly! i've got no strength in my arms!" marden, a c.i.d. man, came running, and in a minute, or less, i was sitting up gulping brandy. "i've had the most awful experience of my life," said bristol. "you've fared badly enough, but i've been hanging by my wrists--you know dexter's trick!--for close upon sixteen hours! i wasn't released until carter, an office boy, came on the scene this morning!" very feebly i nodded; i could not talk. "the strong-room of your bank was rifled under my very eyes last evening!" he continued, with something of his old vigour; "and five minutes after the antiquarian museum was opened to the public this morning quite an unusual number of visitors appeared. "i saw the bank manager the moment he arrived, and learned a piece of news that positively took my breath away! i was at the museum seven minutes later and got another shock! there in the case was the red slipper!" "then," i whispered-"it hadn't been stolen?" "wrong! it had! this was a duplicate, as mostyn, the curator, saw at a glance! some of the early visitors--they were easterns--had quite surrounded the case. they were watched, of course, but any number of orientals come to see the thing; and, short of smashing the glass, which would immediately attract attention, the authorities were unprepared, of course, for any attempt. anyway, they were tricked. somebody opened the case. the real slipper of the prophet is gone!" "they told you at the bank--" "that you had withdrawn the keys! if dexter had known that!" "hassan of aleppo took them from me last night! at last the hashishin have triumphed." bristol sank into the armchair. "every port is watched," he said. "but--" chapter xxviii carneta "i am entirely at your mercy; you can do as you please with me. but before you do anything i should like you to listen to what i have to say." her beautiful face was pale and troubled. violet eyes looked sadly into mine. "for nearly an hour i have been waiting for this chance--until i knew you were alone," she continued. "if you are thinking of giving me up to the police, at least remember that i came here of my own free will. of course, i know you are quite entitled to take advantage of that; but please let me say what i came to say!" she pleaded so hard, with that musical voice, with her evident helplessness, most of all with her wonderful eyes, that i quite abandoned any project i might have entertained to secure her arrest. i think she divined this masculine weakness, for she said, with greater confidence-"your friend, professor deeping, was murdered by the man called hassan of aleppo. are you content to remain idle while his murderer escapes?" god knows i was not. my idleness in the matter was none of my choosing. since poor deeping's murder i had come to handgrips with the assassins more than once, but hassan had proved too clever for me, too clever for scotland yard. the sacred slipper was once more in the hands of its fanatic guardian. one man there was who might have helped the search, earl dexter. but earl dexter was himself wanted by scotland yard! from the time of the bank affair up to the moment when this beautiful visitor had come to my chambers i had thought dexter, as well as hassan, to have fled secretly from england. but the moment that i saw carneta at my door i divined that the stetson man must still be in london. she sat watching me and awaiting my answer. "i cannot avenge my friend unless i can find his murderer." eagerly she bent forward. "but if i can find him?" that made me think, and i hesitated before speaking again. "say what you came to say," i replied slowly. "you must know that i distrust you. indeed, my plain duty is to detain you. but i will listen to anything you may care to tell me, particularly if it enables me to trap hassan of aleppo." "very well," she said, and rested her elbows upon the table before her. "i have come to you in desperation. i can help you to find the man who murdered professor deeping, but in return i want you to help me!" i watched her closely. she was very plainly, almost poorly, dressed. her face was pale and there were dark marks around her eyes. this but served to render their strange beauty more startling; yet i could see that my visitor was in real trouble. the situation was an odd one. "you are possibly about to ask me," i suggested, "to assist earl dexter to escape the police?" she shook her head. her voice trembled as she replied-"that would not have induced me to run the risk of coming here. i came because i wanted to find a man who was brave enough to help me. we have no friends in london, and so it became a question of terms. i can repay you by helping you to trace hassan." "what is it, then, that dexter asks me to do?" "he asks nothing. i, carneta, am asking!" "then you are not come from him?" at my question, all her self-possession left her. she abruptly dropped her face into her hands and was shaken with sobs! it was more than i could bear, unmoved. i forgot the shady past, forgot that she was the associate of a daring felon, and could only realize that she was a weeping woman, who had appealed to my pity and who asked my aid. i stood up and stared out of the window, for i experienced a not unnatural embarrassment. without looking at her i said-"don't be afraid to tell me your troubles. i don't say i should go out of my way to be kind to mr. dexter, but i have no wish whatever to be instrumental in"--i hesitated--"in making you responsible for his misdeeds. if you can tell me where to find hassan of aleppo, i won't even ask you where dexter is--" "god help me! i don't know where he is!" there was real, poignant anguish in her cry. i turned and confronted her. her lashes were all wet with tears. "what! has he disappeared?" she nodded, fought with her emotion a moment, and went on unsteadily, "i want you to help me to find him for in finding him we shall find hassan!" "how so?" her gaze avoided me now. "mr. cavanagh, he has staked everything upon securing the slipper--and the hashishin were too clever for him. his hand--those eastern fiends cut off his hand! but he would not give in. he made another bid--and lost again. it left him almost penniless." she spoke of earl dexter's felonious plans as another woman might have spoken of her husband's unwise investments! it was fantastic hearing that confession of the stetson man's beautiful partner, and i counted the interview one of the strangest i had ever known. a sudden idea came to me. "when did dexter first conceive the plan to steal the slipper?" i asked. "in egypt!" answered carneta. "yes! you may as well know! he is thoroughly familiar with the east, and he learned of the robbery of professor deeping almost as soon as it became known to hassan. i know what you are going to ask--" "ahmad ahmadeen!" "yes! he travelled home as ahmadeen--the only time he ever used a disguise. oh! the thing is accursed!" she cried. "i begged him, implored him, to abandon his attempts upon it. day and night we were watched by those ghastly yellow men! but it was all in vain. he knew, had known for a long time, where hassan of aleppo was in hiding!" and i reflected that the best men at new scotland yard had failed to pick up the slightest clue! "the hashishin, of whom that dreadful man is leader, are rich, or have supporters who are rich. the plan was to make them pay for the slipper." "my god! it was playing with fire!" she sat silent awhile. emotion threatened to get the upper hand. then-"two days ago," she almost whispered, "he set out--to ... get the slipper!" "to steal it?" "to steal it!" "from hassan of aleppo?" i could scarcely believe that any man, single-handed, could have had the hardihood to attempt such a thing. "from hassan, yes!" i faced her, amazed, incredulous. "dexter had suffered mutilation, he knew that the hashishin sought his life for his previous attempts upon the relic of the prophet, and yet he dared to venture again into the very lions' den?" "he did, mr. cavanagh, two days ago. and--" "yes?" i urged, as gently as i could, for she was shaking pitifully. "he never came back!" the words were spoken almost in a whisper. she clenched her hands and leapt from the chair, fighting down her grief and with such a stark horror in her beautiful eyes that from my very soul i longed to be able to help her. "mr. cavanagh" (she had courage, this bewildering accomplice of a cracksman), "i know the house he went to! i cannot hope to make you understand what i have suffered since then. a thousand times i have been on the point of going to the police, confessing all i knew, and leading them to that house! o god! if only he is alive, this shall be his last crooked deal--and mine! i dared not go to the police, for his sake! i waited, and watched, and hoped, through two such nights and days ... then i ventured. i should have gone mad if i had not come here. i knew you had good cause to hate, to detest me, but i remembered that you had a great grievance against hassan. not as great, o heaven! not as great as mine, but yet a great one. i remembered, too, that you were the kind of man--a woman can come to..." she sank back into the chair, and with her fingers twining and untwining, sat looking dully before her. "in brief," i said, "what do you propose?" "i propose that we endeavour to obtain admittance to the house of hassan of aleppo--secretly, of course, and all i ask of you in return for revealing the secret of its situation is--" "that i let dexter go free?" almost inaudibly she whispered: "if he lives!" surely no stranger proposition ever had been submitted to a law-abiding citizen. i was asked to connive in the escape of a notorious criminal, and at one and the same time to embark upon an expedition patently burglarious! as though this were not enough, i was invited to beard hassan of aleppo, the most dreadful being i had ever encountered east or west, in his mysterious stronghold! i wondered what my friend, inspector bristol, would have thought of the project; i wondered if i should ever live to see hassan meet his just deserts as a result of this enterprise, which i was forced to admit a foolhardy one. but a man who has selected the career of a war correspondent from amongst those which fleet street offers, is the victim of a certain craving for fresh experiences; i suppose, has in his character something of an adventurous turn. for a while i stood staring from the window, then faced about and looked into the violet eyes of my visitor. "i agree, carneta!" i said. chapter xxix we meet mr. isaacs quitting the wayside station, and walking down a short lane, we came out upon watling street, white and dusty beneath the afternoon sun. we were less than an hour's train journey from london but found ourselves amid the kentish hop gardens, amid a rural peace unbroken. my companion carried a camera case slung across her shoulder, but its contents were less innocent than one might have supposed. in fact, it contained a neat set of those instruments of the burglar's art with whose use she appeared to be quite familiar. "there is an inn," she said, "about a mile ahead, where we can obtain some vital information. he last wrote to me from there." side by side we tramped along the dusty road. we both were silent, occupied with our own thoughts. respecting the nature of my companion's i could entertain little doubt, and my own turned upon the foolhardy nature of the undertaking upon which i was embarked. no other word passed between us then, until upon rounding a bend and passing a cluster of picturesque cottages, the yard of the vinepole came into view. "do they know you by sight here?" i asked abruptly. "no, of course not; we never made strategic mistakes of that kind. if we have tea here, no doubt we can learn all we require." i entered the little parlour of the inn, and suggested that tea should be served in the pretty garden which opened out of it upon the right. the host, who himself laid the table, viewed the camera case critically. "we get a lot of photographers down here," he remarked tentatively. "no doubt," said my companion. "there is some very pretty scenery in the neighbourhood." the landlord rested his hands upon the table. "there was a gentleman here on wednesday last," he said; "an old gentleman who had met with an accident, and was staying somewhere hereabouts for his health. but he'd got his camera with him, and it was wonderful the way he could use it, considering he hadn't got the use of his right hand." "he must have been a very keen photographer," i said, glancing at the girl beside me. "he took three or four pictures of the vinepole," replied the landlord (which i doubted, since probably his camera was a dummy); "and he wanted to know if there were any other old houses in the neighbourhood. i told him he ought to take cadham hall, and he said he had heard that the gate house, which is about a mile from here, was one of the oldest buildings about." a girl appeared with a tea tray, and for a moment i almost feared that the landlord was about to retire; but he lingered, whilst the girl distributed the things about the table, and carneta asked casually, "would there be time for me to photograph the gate house before dark?" "there might be time," was the reply, "but that's not the difficulty. mr. isaacs is the difficulty." "who is mr. isaacs?" i asked. "he's the jewish gentleman who bought the gate house recently. lots of money he's got and a big motor car. he's up and down to london almost every day in the week, but he won't let anybody take photographs of the house. i know several who've asked." "but i thought," said carneta, innocently, "you said the old gentleman who was here on wednesday went to take some?" "he went, yes, miss; but i don't know if he succeeded." carneta poured out some tea. "now that you speak of it," she said, "i too have heard that the gate house is very picturesque. what objection can mr. isaacs have to photographers?" "well, you see, miss, to get a picture of the house, you have to pass right through the grounds." "i should walk right up to the house and ask permission. is mr. isaacs at home, i wonder?" "i couldn't say. he hasn't passed this way to-day." "we might meet him on the way," said i. "what is he like?" "a jewish gentleman sir, very dark, with a white beard. wears gold glasses. keeps himself very much to himself. i don't know anything about his household; none of them ever come here." carneta inquired the direction of cadham hall and of the gate house, and the landlord left us to ourselves. my companion exhibited signs of growing agitation, and it seemed to me that she had much ado to restrain herself from setting out without a moment's delay for the gate house, which, i readily perceived, was the place to which our strange venture was leading us. i found something very stimulating in the reflection that, rash though the expedition might be, and, viewed from whatever standpoint, undeniably perilous, it promised to bring me to that secret stronghold of deviltry where the sinister hassan of aleppo so successfully had concealed himself. the work of the modern journalist had many points of contact with that of the detective; and since the murder of professor deeping i had succumbed to the man-hunting fever more than once. i knew that scotland yard had failed to locate the hiding-place of the remarkable and evil man who, like an efreet of oriental lore, obeyed the talisman of the stolen slipper, striking down whomsoever laid hand upon its sacredness. it was a novel sensation to know that, aided by this beautiful accomplice of a rogue, i had succeeded where the experts had failed! misgivings i had and shall not deny. if our scheme succeeded it would mean that deeping's murderer should be brought to justice. if it failed-well, frankly, upon that possibility i did not dare to reflect! it must be needless for me to say that we two strangely met allies were ill at ease, sometimes to the point of embarrassment. we proceeded on our way in almost unbroken silence, and, save for a couple of farm hands, without meeting any wayfarer, up to the time that we reached the brow of the hill and had our first sight of the gate house lying in a little valley beneath. it was a small tudor mansion, very compact in plan and its roof glowed redly in the rays of the now setting sun. from the directions given by the host of the vinepole it was impossible to mistake the way or to mistake the house. amid well-wooded grounds it stood, a place quite isolated, but so typically english that, as i stood looking down upon it, i found myself unable to believe that any other than a substantial country gentleman could be its proprietor. i glanced at carneta. her violet eyes were burning feverishly, but her lips twitched in a bravely pitiful way. clearly now my adventure lay before me; that red-roofed homestead seemed to have rendered it all substantial which hitherto had been shadowy; and i stood there studying the gate house gravely, for it might yet swallow me up, as apparently it had swallowed earl dexter. there, amid that peaceful kentish landscape, fantasy danced and horrors unknown lurked in waiting... the eminence upon which we were commanded an extensive prospect, and eastward showed a tower and flagstaff which marked the site of cadham hall. there were homeward-bound labourers to be seen in the lanes now, and where like a white ribbon the watling street lay across the verdant carpet moved an insect shape, speedily. it was a car, and i watched it with vague interest. at a point where a dense coppice spread down to the roadway and a lane crossed west to east, the car became invisible. then i saw it again, nearer to us and nearer to the gate house. finally it disappeared among the trees. i turned to carneta. she, too, had been watching. now her gaze met mine. "mr. isaacs!" she said; and her voice was less musical than usual. "his chauffeur, who learned his business in cairo, is probably the only one of his servants who remains in england." "what!" i began--and said no more. where the road upon which we stood wound down into the valley and lost itself amid the trees surrounding the gate house, the car suddenly appeared again, and began to mount the slope toward us! "heavens!" whispered carneta. "he may have seen us--with glasses! quick! let us walk back until the hill-top conceals us; then we must hide somewhere!" i shared her excitement. without a moment's hesitation we both turned and retraced our steps. twenty paces brought us to a spot where a stack of mangel wurzels stood at the roadside. "this will do!" i said. we ran around into the field, and crouched where we could peer out on the road without ourselves being seen. nor had we taken up this position a moment too soon. topping the slope came a light-weight electric, driven by a man who, in his spruce uniform, might have passed at a glance for a very dusky european. the car had a limousine back, and as the chauffeur slowed down, out from the open windows right and left peered the solitary occupant. he had the cast of countenance which is associated with the best type of jew, with clear-cut aquiline features wholly destitute of grossness. his white beard was patriarchal and he wore gold-rimmed pince-nez and a glossy silk hat. such figures may often be met with in the great money-markets of the world, and mr. isaacs would have passed for a successful financier in even more discerning communities than that of cadham. but i scarcely breathed until the car was past; and, beside me, my companion, crouching to the ground, was trembling wildly. fifty yards toward the village mr. isaacs evidently directed the man to return. the car was put about, and flashed past us at high speed down into the valley. when the sound of the humming motor had died to something no louder than the buzz of a sleepy wasp, i held out my hand to carneta and she rose, pale, but with blazing eyes, and picked up her camera case. "if he had detected us, everything would have been lost!" she whispered. "not everything!" i replied grimly--and showed her the revolver which i had held in my hand whilst those eagle eyes had been seeking us. "if he had made a sign to show that he had seen us, in fact, if he had once offered a safe mark by leaning from the car, i should have shot him dead without hesitation!" "we must not show ourselves again, but wait for dusk. he must have seen us, then, on the hilltop, but i hope without recognizing us. he has the sight and instincts of a vulture!" i nodded, slipping the revolver into my pocket, but i wondered if i should not have been better advised to have risked a shot at the moment that i had recognized "mr. isaacs" for hassan of aleppo. chapter xxx at the gate house from sunset to dusk i lurked about the neighbourhood of the gate house with my beautiful accomplice--watching and waiting: a man bound upon stranger business, i dare swear, than any other in the county of kent that night. our endeavour now was to avoid observation by any one, and in this, i think, we succeeded. at the same time, carneta, upon whose experience i relied implicitly, regarded it as most important that we should observe (from a safe distance) any one who entered or quitted the gates. but none entered, and none came out. when, finally, we made along the narrow footpath skirting the west of the grounds, the night was silent--most strangely still. the trees met overhead, but no rustle disturbed their leaves and of animal life no indication showed itself. there was no moon. a full appreciation of my mad folly came to me, and with it a sense of heavy depression. this stillness that ruled all about the house which sheltered the awful sheikh of the assassins was ominous, i thought. in short, my nerves were playing me tricks. "we have little to fear," said my companion, speaking in a hushed and quivering voice. "the whole of the party left england some days ago." "are you sure?" "certain! we learned that before earl made his attempt. hassan remains, for some reason; hassan and one other--the one who drives the car." "but the slipper?" "if hassan remains, so does the slipper!" from the knapsack, which, as you will have divined, did not contain a camera, she took out an electric pocket lamp, and directed its beam upon the hedge above us. "there is a gap somewhere here!" she said. "see if you can find it. i dare not show the light too long." darkness followed. i clambered up the bank and sought for the opening of which carneta had spoken. "the light here a moment," i whispered. "i think i have it!" out shone the white beam, and momentarily fell upon a black hole in the thickset hedge. the light disappeared, and as i extended my hand to carneta she grasped it and climbed up beside me. "put on your rubber shoes," she directed. "leave the others here." there in the darkness i did as she directed, for i was provided with a pair of tennis shoes. carneta already was suitably shod. "i will go first," i said. "what is the ground like beyond?" "just unkempt bushes and weeds." upon hands and knees i crawled through, saw dimly that there was a short descent, corresponding with the ascent from the lane, and turned, whispering to my fellow conspirator to follow. the grounds proved even more extensive than i had anticipated. we pressed on, dodging low-sweeping branches and keeping our arms up to guard our faces from outshoots of thorn bushes. our progress necessarily was slow, but even so quite a long time seemed to have elapsed ere we came in sight of the house. this was my first expedition of the kind; and now that my goal was actually in sight i became conscious of a sort of exultation hard to describe. my companion, on the contrary, seemed to have become icily cool. when next she spoke, her voice had a businesslike ring, which revealed the fact that she was no amateur at this class of work. "wait here," she directed. "i am going to pass all around the house, and i will rejoin you." i could see her but dimly, and she moved off as silent as an indian deer-stalker, leaving me alone there crouching at the extreme edge of the thicket. i looked out over a small wilderness of unkempt flower-beds; so much it was just possible to perceive. the plants in many instances had spread on to the pathways and contested survival with the flourishing weeds. all was wild--deserted--eerie. a sense of dampness assailed me, and i raised my eyes to the low-lying building wherein no light showed, no sign of life was evident. the nearer wing presented a verandah apparently overgrown by some climbing plant, the nature of which it was impossible to determine in the darkness. the zest for the nocturnal operation which temporarily had thrilled me succumbed now to loneliness. with keen anxiety i awaited the return of my more experienced accomplice. the situation was grotesque, utterly bizarre; but even my sense of humour could not save me from the growing dread which this seemingly deserted place poured into my heart. when upon the right i heard a faint rustling i started, and grasped the revolver in my pocket. "not a sound!" came in carneta's voice. "keep just inside the bushes and come this way. there is something i want to show you." the various profuse growths rendered concealment simple enough--if indeed any other concealment were necessary than that which the strangely black night afforded. just within the evil-smelling thicket we made a half circuit of the building, and stopped. "look!" whispered carneta. the word was unnecessary, for i was staring fixedly in the direction of that which evidently had occasioned her uneasiness. it was a small square window, so low-set that i assumed it to be that of a cellar, and heavily cross-barred. from it, out upon a tangled patch of vegetation, shone a dull red light! "there's no other light in the place," my companion whispered. "for god's sake, what can it be?" my mind supplied no explanation. the idea that it might be a dark room no doubt was suggested by the assumed role of carneta; but i knew that idea to be absurd. the red light meant something else. evidently the commencing of operations before all lights were out was irregular, for carneta said slowly-"we must wait and watch the light. there was formerly a moat around the gate house; that must be the window of a dungeon." i little relished the prospect of waiting in that swamp-like spot, but since no alternative presented itself i accepted the inevitable. for close upon an hour we stood watching the red window. no sound of bird, beast, or man disturbed our vigil; in fact, it would appear that the very insects shunned the neighbourhood of hassan of aleppo. but the red light still shone out. "we must risk it!" said carneta steadily. "there are french windows opening on to that verandah. ten yards farther around the bushes come right up to the wall of the house. we'll go that way and around by the other wing on to the verandah." any action was preferable to this nerve-sapping delay, and with a determination to shoot, and shoot to kill, any one who opposed our entrance, i passed through the bushes and, with carneta, rounded the southern border of that silent house and slipped quietly on to the verandah. kneeling, carneta opened the knapsack. my eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness, and i was just able to see her deft hands at work upon the fastenings. she made no noise, and i watched her with an ever-growing wonder. a female burglar is a personage difficult to imagine. certainly, no one ever could have suspected this girl with the violet eyes of being an expert crackswoman; but of her efficiency there could be no question. i think i had never witnessed a more amazing spectacle than that of this cultured girl manipulating the tools of the house breaker with her slim white fingers. suddenly she turned and clutched my arm. "the windows are not fastened!" she whispered. a strange courage came to me--perhaps that of desperation. for, ignoring the ominous circumstance, i pushed open the nearest window and stepped into the room beyond! a hissing breath from carneta acknowledged my performance, and she entered close behind me, silent in her rubber-soled shoes. for one thrilling moment we stood listening. then came the white beam from the electric lamp to cut through the surrounding blackness. the room was totally unfurnished! chapter xxxi the pool of death not a sound broke the stillness of the gate house. it was the most eerily silent place in which i had ever found myself. out into the corridor we went, noiselessly. it was stripped, uncarpeted. three doors we passed, two upon the left and one upon the right. we tried them all. all were unfastened, and the rooms into which they opened bare and deserted. then we came upon a short, descending stair, at its foot a massive oaken door. carneta glided down, noiseless as a ghost, and to one of the blackened panels applied an ingenious little instrument which she carried in her knapsack. it was not unlike a stethoscope; and as i watched her listening, by means of this arrangement, for any sound beyond the oaken door, i reflected how almost every advance made by science places a new tool in the hand of the criminal. no word had been spoken since we had discovered this door; none had been necessary. for we both knew that the place beyond was that from which proceeded the mysterious red light. i directed the ray of the electric torch upon carneta, as she stood there listening, and against that sombre oaken background her face and profile stood out with startling beauty. she seemed half perplexed and half fearful. then she abruptly removed the apparatus, and, stooping to the knapsack, replaced it and took out a bunch of wire keys, signing to me to hand her the lamp. as i crept down the steps i saw her pause, glancing back over her shoulder toward the door. the expression upon her face induced me to direct the light in the same direction. why neither of us had observed the fact before i cannot conjecture; but a key was in the lock! perhaps the traffic of the night afforded no more dramatic moment than this. the house which we were come prepared burglariously to enter was thrown open, it would seem, to us, inviting our inspection! looking back upon that moment, it seems almost incredible that the sight of a key in a lock should have so thrilled me. but at the time i perceived something sinister in this failure of the lord of the hashishin to close his doors to intruders. that carneta shared my doubts and fears was to be read in her face; but her training had been peculiar, i learned, and such as establishes a surprising resoluteness of character. quite noiselessly she turned the key, and holding a dainty pocket revolver in her hand, pushed the door open slowly! an odour, sickly sweet and vaguely familiar, was borne to my nostrils. carneta became outlined in dim, reddish light. bending forward slightly, she entered the room, and i, with muscles tensed nervously, advanced and stood beside her. i perceived that this was a cellar; indeed, i doubt not that in some past age it had served as a dungeon. from the stone roof hung the first evidence of eastern occupation which the gate house had yielded; in the form of an oriental lantern, or fanoos, of rose-coloured waxed paper upon a copper frame. its vague light revealed the interior of the hideous place upon whose threshold we stood. straight before us, deep set in the stone wall, was the tiny square window, iron-barred without, and glazed with red glass, the light from which had so deeply mystified us. within a niche in the wall, a little to the left of the window, rested an object which, at that moment, claimed our undivided attention the sight of which so wrought upon us that temporarily all else was forgotten. it was the red slipper of the prophet! "my god!" whispered carneta--"my god!"--and clutched at me, swaying dizzily. a few inches from our feet the floor became depressed, how deeply i could not determine, for it was filled with water, water filthy and slimy! the strange, nauseating odour had grown all but unsupportable; it seemingly proceeded from this fetid pool which, occupying the floor of the dungeon, offered a barrier, since its depth was unknown, of fully twelve feet between ourselves and the farther wall. there was a faint, dripping sound: a whispering, echoing drip-drip of falling water. i could not tell from whence it proceeded. almost supporting my companion, whose courage seemed suddenly to have failed her, i stared fascinatedly at that blood-stained relic. something then induced me to look behind; i suppose a warning instinct of that sort which is unexplainable. i only know that upholding carneta with my left arm, and nervously grasping my revolver in my right, i turned and glanced over my shoulder. very slowly, but with a constant, regular motion, the massive door was closing! i snatched away my arm; in my left hand i held the electric torch, and springing sharply about i directed the searching ray into the black gap of the stairway. a yellow face, a malignant oriental face, came suddenly, fully, into view! instantly i recognized it for that of the man who had driven hassan's car! acting upon the determination with which i had entered the gate house, i raised my revolver and fired straight between the evil eyes! to the fact that i dropped my left hand in the act of pulling the trigger with my right, and thus lost my mark, the servant of hassan of aleppo owed his escape. i missed him. he uttered a shrill cry of fear and went racing up the wooden stair. i followed him with the light and fired twice at the retreating figure. i heard him stumble and a second time cry out. but, though i doubt not he was hit, he recovered himself, for i heard his tread in the corridor above. propping wide the door with my foot, i turned to carneta. her face was drawn and haggard; but her mouth set in a sort of grim determination. "earl is dead!" she said, in a queer, toneless voice. "he died trying to get--that thing! i will get it, and destroy it!" before i could detain her, even had i sought to do so, she stepped into the filthy water, struggled to recover her foothold, and sank above her waist into its sliminess. without hesitation she began to advance toward the niche which contained the slipper. in the middle of the pool she stopped. what memory it was which supplied the clue to the identity of that nauseating smell, heaven alone knows; but as the girl stopped and drew herself up rigidly--then turned and leapt wildly back toward the door--i knew what occasioned that sickly odour! she screamed once, dreadfully--shrilly--a scream of agonizing fear that i can never forget. then, roughly i grasped her, for the need was urgent--and dragged her out on to the floor beside me. with her wet garments clinging to her limbs, she fell prostrate on the stones. a yard from the brink the slimy water parted, and the yellow snout of a huge crocodile was raised above the surface! the saurian eyes, hungrily malevolent, rose next to view! the extremity of our danger found me suddenly cool. as the thing drew its slimy body up out of the poor i waited. the jaws were extended toward the prostrate body, were but inches removed from it, dripped their saliva upon the soddened skirt--when i bent forward, and at a range of some ten inches emptied the remaining three loaded chambers of my revolver into the creature's left eye! upchurned in bloody foam became the water of that dreadful place.... as one recalls the incidents of a fevered dream, i recall dragging carneta away from the contorted body of the death-stricken reptile. a nightmare chaos of horrid, revolting sights and sounds forms my only recollection of quitting the dungeon of the slipper. i succeeded in carrying her up the stairs and out through the empty rooms on to the verandah; but there, from sheer exhaustion, i laid her down. i had no means of reviving her and i lacked the strength to carry her farther. having recharged my revolver, i stood watching her where she lay, wanly beautiful in the dim light. there was no doubt in my mind respecting the fate of earl dexter, nor could i doubt that the slipper in the dungeon below was a duplicate of the real one. it was a death-trap into which he had lured dexter and which he had left baited for whomsoever might trace the cracksman to the gate house. why hassan should have remained behind, unless from fanatic lust of killing, i could not imagine. when at last the fresher night air had its effect, and carneta opened her eyes, i led her to the gates, nor did she offer the slightest resistance, but looked dully before her, muttering over and over again, "earl, earl!" the gates were open; we passed out on to the open road. no man pursued us, and the night was gravely still. chapter xxxii six gray patches when the invitation came from my old friend hilton to spend a week "roughing it" with him in warwickshire i accepted with alacrity. if ever a man needed a holiday i was that man. nervous breakdown threatened me at any moment; the ghastly experience at the gate house together with carneta's grief-stricken face when i had parted from her were obsessing memories which i sought in vain to shake off. a brief wire had contained the welcome invitation, and up to the time when i had received it i had been unaware that hilton was back in england. moreover, beyond the fact that his house, "uplands," was near h--, for which i was instructed to change at new street station, birmingham, i had little idea of its location. but he added "wire train and will meet at h--"; so that i had no uneasiness on that score. i had contemplated catching the 2:45 from euston, but by the time i had got my work into something like order, i decided that the 6:55 would be more suitable and decided to dine on the train. altogether, there was something of a rush and hustle attendant upon getting away, and when at last i found myself in the cab, bound for euston, i sat back with a long-drawn sigh. the quest of the prophet's slipper was ended; in all probability that blood-stained relic was already eastward bound. hassan of aleppo, its awful guardian, had triumphed and had escaped retribution. earl dexter was dead. i could not doubt that; for the memory of his beautiful accomplice, carneta, as i last had seen her, broken-hearted, with her great violet eyes dulled in tearless agony--have i not said that it lived with me? even as the picture of her lovely, pale face presented itself to my mind, the cab was held up by a temporary block in the traffic--and my imagination played me a strange trick. another taxi ran close alongside, almost at the moment that the press of vehicles moved on again. certainly, i had no more than a passing glimpse of the occupants; but i could have sworn that violet eyes looked suddenly into mine, and with equal conviction i could have sworn to the gaunt face of the man who sat beside the violet-eyed girl for that of earl dexter! the travellers, however, were immediately lost to sight in the rear, and i was left to conjecture whether this had been a not uncommon form of optical delusion or whether i had seen a ghost. at any rate, as i passed in between the big pillars, "the gateway of the north," i scrutinized, and closely, the numerous hurrying figures about me. none of them, by any stretch of the imagination, could have been set down for that of dexter, the stetson man. no doubt, i concluded, i had been tricked by a chance resemblance. having dispatched my telegram, i boarded the 6:55. i thought i should have the compartment to myself, and so deep in reverie was i that the train was actually clear of the platforms ere i learned that i had a companion. he must have joined me at the moment that the train started. certainly, i had not seen him enter. but, suddenly looking up, i met the eyes of this man who occupied the corner seat facing me. this person was olive-skinned, clean-shaven, fine featured, and perfectly groomed. his age might have been anything from twenty-five to forty-five, but his hair and brows were jet black. his eyes, too, were nearer to real black than any human eyes i had ever seen before--excepting the awful eyes of hassan of aleppo. hassan of aleppo! it was, to that hour, a mystery how his group of trained assassins--the hashishin--had quitted england. since none of them were known to the police, it was no insoluble mystery, i admit; but nevertheless it was singular that the careful watching of the ports had yielded no result. could it be that some of them had not yet left the country? could it be-i looked intently into the black eyes. they were caressing, smiling eyes, and looked boldly into mine. i picked up a magazine, pretending to read. but i supported it with my left hand; my right was in my coat pocket--and it rested upon my smith and wesson! so much had the slipper of mohammed done for me: i went in hourly dread of murderous attack! my travelling companion watched me; of that i was certain. i could feel his gaze. but he made no move and no word passed between us. this was the situation when the train slowed into northampton. at northampton, to my indescribable relief (frankly, i was as nervous in those days as a woman), the oriental traveller stepped out on to the platform. having reclosed the door, he turned and leaned in through the open window. "evidently you are not concerned, mr. cavanagh," he said. "be warned. do not interfere with those that are!" the night swallowed him up. my fears had been justified; the man was one of the hashishin--a spy of hassan of aleppo! what did it mean? i craned from the window, searching the platform right and left. but there was no sign of him. when the train left northampton i found myself alone, and i should only weary you were i to attempt to recount the troubled conjectures that bore me company to birmingham. the train reached new street at nine, with the result that having gulped a badly needed brandy and soda in the buffet, i grabbed my bag, raced across--and just missed the connection! more than an hour later i found myself standing at ten minutes to eleven upon the h-platform, watching the red taillight of the "local" disappear into the night. then i realized to the full that with four miles of lonely england before me there hung above my head a mysterious threat--a vague menace. the solitary official, who but waited my departure to lock up the station, was the last representative of civilization i could hope to encounter until the gates of "uplands" should be opened to me! what was the matter with which i was warned not to interfere? might i not, by my mere presence in that place, unwittingly be interfering now? with the station-master's directions humming like a refrain in my ears, i passed through the sleeping village and out on to the road. the moon was exceptionally bright and unobscured, although a dense bank of cloud crept slowly from the west, and before me the path stretched as an unbroken thread of silvery white twining a sinuous way up the bracken-covered slope, to where, sharply defined against the moonlight sky, a coppice in grotesque silhouette marked the summit. the month had been dry and tropically hot, and my footsteps rang crisply upon the hard ground. there is nothing more deceptive than a straight road up a hill; and half an hour's steady tramping but saw me approaching the trees. i had so far resolutely endeavoured to keep my mind away from the idea of surveillance. now, as i paused to light my pipe--a never-failing friend in loneliness--i perceived something move in the shadows of a neighbouring bush. this object was not unlike a bladder, and the very incongruity of its appearance served to revive all my apprehensions. taking up my grip, as though i had noticed nothing of an alarming nature, i pursued my way up the slope, leaving a trail of tobacco smoke in my wake; and having my revolver secreted up my right coat-sleeve. successfully resisting a temptation to glance behind, i entered the cover of the coppice, and, now invisible to any one who might be dogging me, stood and looked back upon the moon-bright road. there was no living thing in sight, the road was empty as far as the eye could see. the coppice now remained to be negotiated, and then, if the station-master's directions were not at fault, "uplands" should be visible beyond. taking, therefore, what i had designed to be a final glance back down the hillside, i was preparing to resume my way when i saw something--something that arrested me. it was a long way behind--so far that, had the moon been less bright, i could never have discerned it. what it was i could not even conjecture; but it had the appearance of a vague gray patch, moving--not along the road, but through the undergrowth--in my direction. for a second my eye rested upon it. then i saw a second patch--a third--a fourth! six! there were six gray patches creeping up the slope toward me! the sight was unnerving. what were these things that approached, silently, stealthily--like snakes in the grass? a fear, unlike anything i had known before the quest of the prophet's slipper had brought fantastic horror into my life, came upon me. revolver in hand i ran--ran for my life toward the gap in the trees that marked the coppice end. and as i went something hummed through the darkness beside my head, some projectile, some venomous thing that missed its mark by a bare inch! painfully conversant with the uncanny weapons employed by the hashishin, i knew now, beyond any possibility of doubt, that death was behind me. a pattering like naked feet sounded on the road, and, without pausing in my headlong career, i sent a random shot into the blackness. the crack of the smith and wesson reassured me. i pulled up short, turned, and looked back toward the trees. nothing--no one! breathing heavily, i crammed my extinguished briar into my pocket--re-charged the empty chamber of the revolver--and started to run again toward a light that showed over the treetops to my left. that, if the man's directions were right, was "uplands"--if his directions were wrong--then... a shrill whistle--minor, eerie, in rising cadence--sounded on the dead silence with piercing clearness! six whistles--seemingly from all around me--replied! some object came humming through the air, and i ducked wildly. on and on i ran--flying from an unknown, but, as a warning instinct told me, deadly peril--ran as a man runs pursued by devils. the road bent sharply to the left then forked. overhanging trees concealed the house, and the light, though high up under the eaves, was no longer visible. trusting to providence to guide me, i plunged down the lane that turned to the left, and, almost exhausted, saw the gates before me--saw the sweep of the drive, and the moonlight, gleaming on the windows! none of the windows were illuminated. straight up to the iron gates i raced. they were locked! without a moment's hesitation i hurled my grip over the top and clambered up the bars! as i got astride, from the blackness of the lane came the ominous hum, and my hat went spinning away across the lawn!--the black cloud veiled the moon and complete darkness fell. then i dropped and ran for the house--shouting, though all but winded--"hilton! hilton! open the door!" sinking exhausted on the steps, i looked toward the gates--but they showed only dimly in the dense shadows of the trees. bzzz! buzz! i dropped flat in the portico as something struck the metal knob of the door and rebounded over me. a shower of gravel told of another misdirected projectile. crack! crack! crack! the revolver spoke its short reply into the mysterious darkness; but the night gave up no sound to tell of a shot gone home. "hilton! hilton!" i cried, banging on the panels with the butt of the weapon. "open the door! open the door!" and now i heard the coming footsteps along the hall within; heavy bolts were withdrawn--the door swung open--and hilton, pale-faced, appeared. his hand shot out, grabbed my coat collar; and weak, exhausted, i found myself snatched into safety, and the door rebolted. "thank god!" i whispered. "thank god! hilton, look to all your bolts and fastenings. hell is outside!" chapter xxxiii how we were reinforced hilton, i learned, was living the simple life at "uplands." the place was not yet decorated and was only partly furnished. but with his man, soar, he had been in solitary occupation for a week. "feel better now?" he asked anxiously. i reached for my tumbler and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. i could hear soar's footsteps as he made the round of bolts and bars, testing each anxiously. "thanks, hilton," i said. "i'm quite all right. you are naturally wondering what the devil it all means? well, then, i wired you from euston that i was coming by the 6:55." "h-post office shuts at 7. i shall get your wire in the morning!" "that explains your failing to meet me. now for my explanation!" "surrounding this house at the present moment," i continued, "are members of an eastern organization--the hashishin, founded in khorassan in the eleventh century and flourishing to-day!" "do you mean it, cavanagh?" "i do! one hassan of aleppo is the present sheikh of the order, and he has come to england, bringing a fiendish company in his train, in pursuit of the sacred slipper of mohammed, which was stolen by the late professor deeping---" "surely i have read something about this?" "probably. deeping was murdered by hassan! the slipper was placed in the antiquarian museum--" "from which it was stolen again!" "correct--by earl dexter, america's foremost crook! but the real facts have never got into print. i am the only pressman who knows them, and i have good reason for keeping my knowledge to myself! dexter is dead (i believe i saw his ghost to-day). but although, to the best of my knowledge, the accursed slipper is in the hands of hassan and company, i have been watched since i left euston, and on my way to 'uplands' my life was attempted!" "for god's sake, why?" "i cannot surmise, hilton. deeping, for certain reasons that are irrelevant at the moment, left the keys of the case at the museum in my perpetual keeping--but the case was rifled a second time--" "i read of it!" "and the keys were stolen from me. i am utterly at a loss to understand why the hashishin--for it is members of that awful organization who, without a doubt, surround this house at the present moment--should seek my life. hilton, i have brought trouble with me!" "it's almost incredible!" said hilton, staring at me. "why do these people pursue you?" ere i had time to reply soar entered, arrayed, as was hilton, in his night attire. soar was an ex-dragoon and a model man. "everything fast, sir," he reported; "but from the window of the bedroom over here--the room i got ready for mr. cavanagh--i thought i saw someone in the orchard." "eh?" jerked hilton--"in the orchard? come on up, cavanagh!" we all ran upstairs. the moonlight was streaming into the room. "keep back!" i warned. well within the shadow, i crept up to the window and looked out. the night was hot and still. no breeze stirred the leaves, but the edge of the frowning thunder cloud which i had noted before spread a heavy carpet of ebony black upon the ground. beyond, i could dimly discern the hills. the others stood behind me, constrained by the fear of this mysterious danger which i had brought to "uplands." there was someone moving among the trees! closer came the figure, and closer, until suddenly a shaft of moonlight found passage and spilled a momentary pool of light amid the shadows, i could see the watcher very clearly. a moment he stood there, motionless, and looking up at the window; then as he glided again into the shade of the trees the darkness became complete. but i watched, crouching there nervously, for long after he was gone. "for god's sake, who is it?" whispered hilton, with a sort of awe in his voice. "it's hassan of aleppo!" i replied. virtually, the house, with the capital of the midlands so near upon the one hand, the feverish activity of the black country reddening the night upon the other, was invested by fanatic easterns! we descended again to the extemporized study. soar entered with us and hilton invited him to sit down. "we must stick together to-night!" he said. "now, cavanagh, let us see if we can find any explanation of this amazing business. i can understand that at one period of the slipper's history you were an object of interest to those who sought to recover it; but if, as you say, the hashishin have the slipper now, what do they want with you? if you have never touched it, they cannot be prompted by desire for vengeance." "i have never touched it," i replied grimly; "nor even any receptacle containing it." as i ceased speaking came a distant muffled rumbling. "that's the thunder," said hilton. "there's a tremendous storm brewing." he poured out three glasses of whisky, and was about to speak when soar held up a warning finger. "listen!" he said. at his words, with tropical suddenness down came the rain. hilton, his pipe in his hand, stood listening intently. "what?" he asked. "i don't know, sir; the sound of the rain has drowned it." indeed, the rain was descending in a perfect deluge, its continuous roar drowning all other sounds; but as we three listened tensely we detected a noise which hitherto had seemed like the overflowing of some spout. but louder and clearer it grew, until at last i knew it for what it was. "it's a motor-car!" i cried. "and coming here!" added soar. "listen! it's in the lane!" "it certainly isn't a taxicab," declared hilton. "none of the men will come beyond the village." "that's the gate!" said soar, in an awed voice, and stood up, looking at hilton. "come on," said the latter abruptly, making for the door. "be careful, hilton!" i cried; "it may be a trick!" soar unbolted the front door, threw it open, and looked out. in the darkness of the storm it was almost impossible to see anything in the lane outside. but at that moment a great sheet of lightning split the gloom, and we saw a taxicab standing close up to the gateway! "help! open the gate!" came a high-pitched voice; "open the gate!" out into the rain we ran and down the gravel path. soar had the gate open in a twinkling, and a woman carrying a brown leather grip, but who was so closely veiled that i had no glimpse of her features, leapt through on to the drive. "lend a hand, two of you!" cried a vaguely familiar voice--"this way!" hilton and soar stepped out into the road. the driver of the cab was lying forward across the wheel, apparently insensible, but as hilton seized his arm he moved and spoke feebly. "for god's sake be quick, sir!" he said. "they're after us! they're on the other side of the lane, there!" with that he dropped limply into hilton's arms! he was dragged in on to the drive--and something whizzed over our heads and went sputtering into the gravel away up toward the house. the last to enter was the man who had come in the cab. as he barred the gate behind him he suddenly reached out through the bars and i saw a pistol in his hand. once--twice--thrice--he fired into the blackness of the lane. "take that, you swine!" he shouted. "take that!" as quickly as we could, bearing the insensible man, we hurried back to the door. on the step the woman was waiting for us, with her veil raised. a blinding flash of lightning came as we mounted the step--and i looked into the violet eyes of carneta! i turned and stared at the man behind me. it was earl dexter. three of the mysterious missiles fell amongst us, but miraculously no one was struck. amid the mighty booming of the thunder we reentered the houses and got the door barred. in the hall we laid down the unconscious man and stood, a strangely met company, peering at one another in the dim lamplight. "we've got to bury the hatchet, mr. cavanagh!" said dexter. "it's a case of the common enemy. i've brought you your bag!" and he pointed to the brown grip upon the floor. "my bag!" i cried. "my bag is upstairs in my room." "wrong, sir!" snapped the stetson man. "they are like as two peas in a pod, i'll grant you, but the bag you snatched off the platform at new street was mine! that's what i'm after; i ought to be on the way to liverpool. that's what hassan's after!" "the bag!" "you don't need to ask what's in the bag?" suggested dexter. "what is in the bag?" ask hilton hoarsely. "the slipper of the prophet, sir!" was the reply. chapter xxxiv my last meeting with hassan of aleppo i felt dazed, as a man must feel who has just heard the death sentence pronounced upon him. hilton seemed to have become incapable of speech or action; and in silence we stood watching carneta tending the unconscious man. she forced brandy from a flask between his teeth, kneeling there beside him with her face very pale and dark rings around her eyes. presently she looked up. "will you please get me a bowl of water and a sponge?" she said quietly. soar departed without a word, and no one spoke until he returned, bringing the sponge and the water, when the girl set to work in a businesslike way to cleanse a wound which showed upon the man's head. "she's a good nurse is carneta," said dexter coolly. "she was the only doctor i had through this"--indicating his maimed wrist. "if you will fetch my bag down, there's some lint in it." i hesitated. "you needn't worry," said dexter; "as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. you've handled the bag, and i'm not asking you to do any more." i went up to my room and lifted the grip from the chair upon which i had put it. even now i found it difficult to perceive any difference between this and mine. both were of identical appearance and both new. in fact, i had bought mine only that morning, my old one being past use, and being in a hurry, i had not left it to be initialled. as i picked up the bag the lightning flashed again, and from the window i could see the orchard as clearly as by sunlight. at the farther end near the wall someone was standing watching the house. i went downstairs carrying the fatal bag, and rejoined the group in the hall. "he will have to be got to bed," said carneta, referring to the wounded man; "he will probably remain unconscious for a long time." accordingly, we took the patient into one of the few furnished bedrooms, and having put him to bed left him in care of the beautiful nurse. when we four men met again downstairs, amazement had rendered the whole scene unreal to me. soar stood just within the open door, not knowing whether to go or to remain; but hilton motioned to him to stay. earl dexter bit off the end of a cigar and stood with his left elbow resting on the mantelpiece. his gaunt face looked gaunter than ever, but the daredevil gray eyes still nursed that humorous light in their depths. "mr. cavanagh," he said, "we're brothers! and if you'll consider a minute, you'll see that i'm not lying when i say i'm on the straight, now and for always!" i made no reply: i could think of none. "i'm a crook," he resumed, "or i was up to a while ago. there's a warrant out for me--the first that ever bore my name. i've sailed near the wind often enough, but it was desperation that got me into hot water about that!" he jerked his cigar in the direction of his grip, which lay now on the rug at his feet. "i lost a useful right hand," he went on--"and i lost every cent i had. it was a dead rotten speculation--for i lost my good name! i mean it! believe me, i've handled some shady propositions in the past, but i did it right in the sunlight! up to the time i went out for that damned slipper i could have had lunch with any detective from broadway to the strand! i didn't need any false whiskers and the ritz was good enough for the stetson man. what now? i'm 'wanted!' enough said." he tossed the cigar--he had smoked scarce an inch of it--into the empty grate. "i'm an aunt sally for any man to shy at," he resumed bitterly. "my place henceforth is in the dark. right! i've finished; the book's closed. from the time i quit england--if i can quit--i'm on the straight! i've promised carneta, and i mean to keep my word. see here--" dexter turned to me. "you'll want to know how i escaped from the cursed death-trap at hassan's house in kent? i'll tell you. i was never in it! i was hiding and waiting my chance. you know what was left to guard the slipper while the sheikh--rot him--was away looking after arrangements for getting his mob out of the country?" i nodded. "you fell into the trap--you and carneta. by god! i didn't know till it was all over! but two minutes later i was inside that place--and three minutes later i was away with the slipper! oh, it wasn't a duplicate; it was the goods! what then? carneta had had a sickening of the business and she just invited me to say yes or no. i said yes; and i'm a straight man onward." "then what were you doing on the train with the slipper?" asked hilton sharply. "i was going to liverpool, sir!" snapped the stetson man, turning on him. "i was going to try to get aboard the mauretania and then make terms for my life! what happened? i slipped out at birmingham for a drink--grip in hand! i put it down beside me, and mr. cavanagh here, all in a hustle, must have rushed in behind me, snatched a whisky and snatched my grip and started for h--!" a vivid flash of lightning flickered about the room. then came the deafening boom of the thunder, right over the house it seemed. "i knew from the weight of the grip it wasn't mine," said dexter, "and i was the most surprised guy in great britain and ireland when i found whose it was! i opened it, of course! and right on top was a waistcoat and right in the first pocket was a telegram. here it is!" he passed it to me. it was that which i had received from hilton. i had packed the suit which i had been wearing that morning and must previously have thrust the telegram into the waistcoat pocket. "providence!" dexter assured me. "because i got on the station in time to see hassan of aleppo join the train for h--! i was too late, though. but i chartered a taxi out on corporation street and invited the man to race the local! he couldn't do it, but we got here in time for the fireworks! mr. cavanagh, there are anything from six to ten hashishin watching this house!" "i know it!" "they're bareheaded; and in the dark their shaven skulls look like nothing human. they're armed with those damned tubes, too. i'd give a thousand dollars--if i had it!--to know their mechanism. well, gentlemen, deeds speak. what am i here for, when i might be on the way to liverpool, and safety?" "you're here to try to make up for the past a bit!" said a soft, musical voice. "mr. cavanagh's life is in danger." carneta entered the room. the light played in that wonderful hair of hers; and pale though she was, i thought i had never seen a more beautiful woman. "tell them," she said quietly, "what must be done." soar glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes and shifted uneasily. hilton stared as if fascinated. "now," rapped dexter, in his strident voice, "putting aside all questions of justice and right (we're not policemen), what do we want--you and i, mr. cavanagh?" "i can't think clearly about anything," i said dully. "explain yourself." "very well. inspector bristol, c.i.d., would want me and hassan arrested. i don't want that! what i want is peace; i want to be able to sleep in comfort; i want to know i'm not likely to be murdered on the next corner! same with you?" "yes--yes." "how can we manage it? one way would be to kill hassan of aleppo; but he wants a lot of killing--i've tried! moreover, directly we'd done it, another sheikh-al-jebal would be nominated and he'd carry on the bloody work. we'd be worse off than ever. right! we've got to connive at letting the blood-stained fanatic escape, and we've got to give up the slipper!" "i'll do that with all my heart!" "sure! but you and i have both got little scores up against hassan, which it's not in human nature to forget. but i've got it worked out that there's only one way. it may nearly choke us to have to do it, i'll allow. i'm working on the moslem character. mr. hilton, make up a fire in the grate here!" hilton stared, not comprehending. "do as he asks," i said. "personally, i am resigned to mutilation, since i have touched the bag containing the slipper, but if dexter has a plan--" "excuse me, sir," soar interrupted. "i believe there's some coal in the coal-box, but i shall have to break up a packing-case for firewood--or go out into the yard!" "let it be the packing-case," replied hilton hastily. accordingly a fire was kindled, whilst we all stood about the room in a sort of fearful uncertainty; and before long a big blaze was roaring up the chimney. dexter turned to me. "mr. cavanagh," said he, "i want you to go right upstairs, open a first-floor window--i would suggest that of your bedroom--and invite hassan of aleppo to come and discuss terms!" silence followed his words; we were all amazed. then-"why do you ask me to do this?" i inquired. "because," replied dexter, "i happen to know that hassan has some queer kind of respect for you--i don't know why." "which is probably the reason why he tried to kill me to-night!" "that's beside the question, mr. cavanagh. he will believe you--which is the important point." "very well. i have no idea what you have in mind but i am prepared to adopt any plan since i have none of my own. what shall i say?" "say that we are prepared to return the slipper--on conditions." "he will probably try to shoot me as i stand at the window." dexter shrugged his shoulders. "got to risk it," he drawled. "and what are the conditions?" "he must come right in here and discuss them! guarantee him safe conduct and i don't think he'll hesitate. anyway, if he does, just tell him that the slipper will be destroyed immediately!" without a word i turned on my heel and ascended the stairs. i entered my room, crossed to the window, and threw it widely open. hovering over the distant hills i could see the ominous thunder cloud, but the storm seemed to have passed from "uplands," and only a distant muttering with the faint dripping of water from the pipes broke the silence of the night. a great darkness reigned, however, and i was entirely unable to see if any one was in the orchard. like some mueddin of fantastic fable i stood there. "hassan!" i cried--"hassan of aleppo!" the name rang out strangely upon the stillness--the name which for me had a dreadful significance; but the whole episode seemed unreal, the voice that had cried unlike my voice. instantly as any magician summoning an efreet i was answered. out from the trees strode a tall figure, a figure i could not mistake. it was that of hassan of aleppo! "i hear, effendim, and obey," he said. "i am ready. open the door!" "we are prepared to discuss terms. you may come and go safely"--still my voice sounded unfamiliar in my ears. "i know, effendim; it is so written. open the door." i closed the window and mechanically descended the stairs. "mind it isn't a trap!" cried hilton, who, with the others, had overheard every word of this strange interview. "they may try to rush the door directly we open it." "i'll stand the chest behind it," said soar; "between the door and the wall, so that only one can enter at a time." this was done, and the door opened. alone, majestic, entered hassan of aleppo. he was dressed in european clothes but wore the green turban of a sherif. with his snowy beard and coal-black eyes he seemed like a vision of the prophet, of the prophet in whose name he had committed such ghastly atrocities. deigning no glance to soar nor to hilton, he paced into the room, passing me and ignoring carneta, where earl dexter awaited him. i shall never forget the scene as hassan entered, to stand looking with blazing eyes at the stetson man, who sat beside the fire with the slipper of mohammed in his hand! "hassan," said dexter quietly, "mr. cavanagh has had to promise you safe conduct, or as sure as god made me, i'd put a bullet in you!" the sheikh of the hashishin glared fixedly at him. "companion of the evil one," he said, "it is not written that i shall die by your hand--or by the hand of any here. but it has been revealed to me that to-night the gates of paradise may be closed in my face." "i shouldn't be at all surprised," drawled dexter. "but it's up to you. you've got to swear by mohammed--" "salla-'llahu 'aleyhi wasellem!" "that you won't lay a hand upon any living soul, or allow any of your followers to do so, who has touched the slipper or had anything to do with it, but that you will go in peace." "you are doomed to die!" "you don't agree, then?" "those who have offended must suffer the penalty!" "right!" said dexter--and prepared to toss the slipper into the heart of the fire! "stop! infidel! stop!" there was real agony in hassan's voice. to my inexpressible surprise he dropped upon his knee, extending his lean brown hands toward the slipper. dexter hesitated. "you agree, then?" hassan raised his eyes to the ceiling. "i agree," he said. "dark are the ways. it is the will of god..." dimly the booming of the thunder came echoing back to us from the hills. above its roll sounded a barbaric chanting to which the drums of angry heaven formed a fitting accompaniment. i heard soar shooting the bolts again upon the going of our strange visitor. faint and more faint grew the chanting, until it merged into the remote muttering of the storm--and was lost. the quest of the sacred slipper was ended. out with garibaldi mr. henty's historical tales. the cat of bubastes: a story of ancient egypt....5_s._ the young carthaginian: a story of the times of hannibal. ...6_s._ for the temple: a tale of the fall of jerusalem....6_s._ beric the briton: a story of the roman invasion....6_s._ the dragon and the raven: or, the days of king alfred....5_s._ wulf the saxon: a story of the norman conquest....6_s._ a knight of the white cross: the siege of rhodes....6_s._ in freedom's cause: a story of wallace and bruce....6_s._ the lion of st. mark: a story of venice in the 14th century....6_s._ st. george for england: a tale of cressy and poitiers....5_s._ a march on london: a story of wat tyler....5_s._ both sides the border: a tale of hotspur and glendower....6_s._ at agincourt: a tale of the white hoods of paris....6_s._ by right of conquest: or, with cortez in mexico....6_s._ st. bartholomew's eve: a tale of the huguenot wars....6_s._ by pike and dyke: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic....6_s._ by england's aid: or, the freeing of the netherlands....6_s._ under drake's flag: a tale of the spanish main....6_s._ the lion of the north: a tale of gustavus adolphus....6_s._ won by the sword: a tale of the thirty years' war....6_s._ when london burned: a story of the great fire....6_s._ orange and green: a tale of the boyne and limerick....5_s._ a jacobite exile: in the service of charles xii....5_s._ the bravest of the brave: or, with peterborough in spain....5_s._ bonnie prince charlie: a tale of fontenoy and culloden....6_s._ with clive in india: or, the beginnings of an empire....6_s._ with frederick the great: the seven years' war....6_s._ with wolfe in canada: or, the winning of a continent....6_s._ true to the old flag: the american war of independence....6_s._ held fast for england: a tale of the siege of gibraltar....5_s._ in the reign of terror: the french revolution....5_s._ no surrender! a tale of the rising in la vendée....5_s._ a roving commission: a story of the hayti insurrection....6_s._ the tiger of mysore: the war with tippoo saib....6_s._ at aboukir and acre: napoleon's invasion of egypt....5_s._ with moore at corunna: a tale of the peninsular war....6_s._ under wellington's command: the peninsular war....6_s._ with cochrane the dauntless: a tale of his exploits....6_s._ through the fray: a story of the luddite riots....6_s._ through russian snows: the retreat from moscow....5_s._ one of the 28th: a story of waterloo....5_s._ in greek waters: a story of the grecian war (1821)....6_s._ on the irrawaddy: a story of the first burmese war....5_s._ through the sikh war: a tale of the punjaub....6_s._ maori and settler: a story of the new zealand war....5_s._ with lee in virginia: a story of the american civil war....6_s._ by sheer pluck: a tale of the ashanti war....5_s._ for name and fame: or, through afghan passes....5_s._ the dash for khartoum: a tale of the nile expedition....6_s._ condemned as a nihilist: a story of escape from siberia....5_s._ london: blackie & son, limited; glasgow and dublin. [illustration: "frank engaged in a tough fight with the officer who held the flag"] out with garibaldi a story of the liberation of italy by g. a. henty author of "the lion of st. mark" "no surrender!" "st. george for england" "under wellington's command" &c. _with eight illustrations by w. rainey, r.i._ london blackie & son, limited, 50 old bailey, e.c glasgow and dublin 1901 preface the invasion of the kingdom of the two sicilies by garibaldi with a force of but a thousand irregular troops is one of the most romantic episodes ever recorded in military history. in many respects it rivals the conquest of mexico by cortez. the latter won, not by the greater bravery of his troops, but by their immense superiority in weapons and defensive armour. upon the contrary, garibaldi's force were ill-armed and practically without artillery, and were opposed by an army of a hundred and twenty thousand men carrying the best weapons of the time, and possessing numerous and powerful artillery. in both cases the invaders were supported by a portion of the population who had been reduced to a state of servitude, and who joined them against their oppressors. there is another point of resemblance between these remarkable expeditions, inasmuch as the leaders of both were treated with the grossest ingratitude by the monarchs for whom they had gained such large acquisitions of territory. for the leading incidents in the campaign i have relied chiefly upon garibaldi's autobiography and the personal narrative of the campaign by captain forbes, r.n. g. a. henty. contents chap. page i. awaiting the attack 11 ii. a desperate defence 31 iii. troubles 50 iv. a sudden summons 65 v. on the way 85 vi. the villa spinola 104 vii. the expedition sails 125 viii. palermo 143 ix. hard fighting 158 x. with bixio 178 xi. a hazardous expedition 197 xii. an ambuscade 216 xiii. across the straits 233 xiv. a discovery 252 xv. the advance from reggio 272 xvi. naples 292 xvii. the battle of the volturno 311 xviii. capua 330 illustrations page "frank engaged in a tough fight with the officer who held the flag" _frontis._ 145 "walking up and down the room like a caged lion" 35 "his assailant fell back and disappeared" 91 "the hinges of the door were broken off" 161 "in her excitement she fell on her knees" 205 "'silence, signors!' he said in a loud voice" 244 "it was not until nullo ordered four men to load ... that he would answer" 307 "he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder" 337 map showing position of the opposing forces round capua 313 plan of the battle of the volturno 319 out with garibaldi. chapter i. awaiting the attack. on april 29th, 1849, two men were seated in a room whose open windows commanded a view down the tiber. a sound of confused uproar rose from the city. "i am afraid, leonard," the elder of the two men said, "that the crisis is at hand. the news that the french are landing to-day at civita vecchia is ominous indeed. it is true that oudïnot has sent a message saying that the flag he has hoisted is that of peace and order. the people will not believe that he comes as an enemy; but, for my part, i have no doubt of it." "nor have i," the other replied. "it was bad enough that we had austria against us, sardinia powerless, and all the princelings of italy hostile; but that france, having proclaimed herself a republic, should now interfere to crush us and to put the pope back upon his throne is nothing short of monstrous. i feared that it would be so, but mazzini had so much faith in his influence with members of the french assembly that he has buoyed up the hopes of the populace, and even now the people generally believe that the french come as friends." "it is doubtless the influence of their new president, napoleon, that has turned the scale against us," the other said gloomily. "i do not suppose that he cares about the pope one way or the other, but it is his interest to pose as his champion. by so doing he will gain the good opinion of austria, of naples, and the ducal rulers of the italian states. even prussia, protestant as she is, would view with satisfaction the suppression of a rising like ours, for her throne well-nigh tottered in last year's explosion. russia, too, which perhaps more than any other power has reason to fear a popular rising, would feel grateful to napoleon for undertaking to crush free thought in rome. it is evident that the french president's move is a politic one. do you think that we shall fight, leonard?" "i fancy so. i have no belief in mazzini's courage, president though he may be. garibaldi is the popular hero, and i know him well enough to be sure that if he has but a handful of men to back him he will fight till the end. we had the odds as heavily against us when we were comrades-in-arms at rio, with but the susie and a merchantman with three or four guns against the whole brazilian navy, or when, with the italian volunteers, two hundred strong, we several times withstood the assault of five times our number. you will see we shall fight; but there can be no question what the end must be. we may repulse oudïnot's attack; but france could send any amount of reinforcements to him, while we have no friends to go to. it is well that your wife, muriel, and the boy were sent off a month since to leghorn, where, if we escape from what must happen here, we can join them and take ship for england." "i am sorry that you should be involved in this affair, leonard." "i am not sorry," the other said. "in the first place, after being here more than ten years, i have come to hate the tyranny and oppression, i don't say of the pope himself, but of his underlings, as much as you do. in the second place, i would fight by the side of garibaldi in almost any quarrel. i do not agree with him in his love for republics, but he has infected me with his hatred of tyrants and his burning patriotism. he is a glorious man; and after having been his comrade, i may almost say his brother, in adventures, hardships, and battles for two years, it would be strange indeed if i hesitated to join him in his crusade to rid italy of her tyrants. i am a soldier, and i own to a fondness for fighting when convinced that the cause is a just one. i know your opinions on the subject; but i suppose you do not propose to fight yourself?" "i do indeed, leonard. i do not say that i should be a match for a strong and active man in a bout with swords, though of course i learned the use of the rapier when a student, but at fifty i can at least use a musket as well as a younger man, and if rome fights i fight with her. ah, here comes garibaldi!" the door opened, and a man entered, whose appearance, even had he not been dressed in a red shirt, blue trousers of rough cloth, and a soft, broad-brimmed wide-awake, would have been remarked wherever he went. of middle height, he was exceptionally wide across the shoulders and deep in the chest; he wore his hair and beard long--both were of a golden yellow, giving a remarkably leonine look to his face; his eyes were blue, and the general expression of his face, when not angered, was pleasant and good-tempered, although marked also by resolution and firmness. at that time his name was comparatively little known in europe, although the extraordinary bravery and enterprise that he had shown at rio and monte video had marked him as a leader of guerilla warfare, possessing many characteristics that recalled the exploits of lord cochrane. it was only when, after his services had been declined by carlo alberto, king of sardinia, he was, with a few hundred followers, making his way to aid in the defence of venice against the austrians, that, on hearing that rome had risen, he hurried to aid the movement, and on his arrival there was greeted with enthusiasm by the populace, who had been informed by mazzini of his exploits. "you have heard the news?" he said as he entered. "yes; we were just talking it over," leonard percival said, "and conclude, as i suppose you do, that the french come as enemies." "there can be no doubt about it, my friend," garibaldi said. "if they had said that they came as enemies i might have doubted them; but after the evasive answer their general gave to the deputation mazzini sent them this morning, i have no question whatever that they will attack us to-morrow." "and you will fight?" "of course. we shall beat them, i think; in the end rome must fall, but our resistance will not have been in vain. the stand we shall make against tyranny will touch every heart throughout italy. it will show that, ground down as the people have been for centuries, the old fire of the romans is not extinct. this will be but the beginning. when it is seen that the despots cannot maintain their authority save by the aid of foreign powers, there will be revolt after revolt until italy is free. there were some grand lines you once told me as we sat round a camp fire, percival, that exactly express my thoughts." "i know what you mean," the englishman said. "they were byron's: for freedom's battle once begun, bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, though baffled oft, is ever won." "they are splendid and true," garibaldi said enthusiastically. "so shall it be with us. this is our first battle--we cannot hope to win it; but our guns will tell italy and europe that we have awoke at last, that, after being slaves so long that we had come to be looked upon as a people content to be ruled by despots, we are still men, and that, having once begun the fight for freedom, we will maintain it until freedom is won." "and now, what are your plans for to-morrow?" "as soon as the french are seen approaching the city the church bells will ring and the alarm be beaten in the streets. the word has been passed round that all are to assemble instantly. the troops that have been organised will first pour out; the rest will follow with such arms as they have. we shall simply rush upon the french. in such a fight there is no need for manoeuvring; and it is well that it is so, for there the french would be our superiors. we shall simply attack and drive them back. we may take it for granted that, being boastful creatures and believing that they have but to show themselves and we shall lay down our arms and implore their mercy, they will be wholly taken by surprise and disconcerted by our onslaught. can you recommend anything better, my friend?" "no. with such a force as yours, newly raised and wholly unused to discipline, it is probable that at the first engagement, and with the advantage of surprise, they will, as you say, drive back the french; but you will have to adopt different tactics afterwards: to stand on the defensive and prevent their entering the city as long as possible, and to defend every street and lane, as the spaniards did at saragossa. they may take the city at last, but at so terrible a cost of blood that we may be sure that when you rise again the french people will not allow another expedition to be undertaken for a cause in which they have no concern, and which would entail such heavy sacrifices." "will you have a separate command, percival? you have but to choose one, and it is yours." "i will fight by your side," the englishman said briefly. "i know that i shall get my full share of the work then." "and you, professor?" "i shall go out with the rest. the students have elected me their captain, and i shall, of course, lead them. it is a simple matter. i see the enemy in front, and i go at them. even i, a man of peace all my life, understand that. i shall have with me at least a dozen of my colleagues, and if i am shot they can direct our boys as well as i can." "good!" garibaldi said. "if i thought that you could keep the students in hand, and then dash into the thick of it if you see our men wavering anywhere, i should say do so; but i know that it would be impossible. they will long to be in the front rank and to set an example to others, and i shall feel confident that, wherever they may be, there will be no faltering. your chief difficulty will be in restraining their ardour. well, my friends, i have many things to arrange, so must be going. you will find me in my quarters at nine o'clock this evening, percival. the officers and the heads of the various quarters of the town are to meet me there at that hour, to arrange where the assembling-places are to be when the alarm is given, and the streets through which they must move when we see at which point the french are going to attack us." "i will come down with him," the professor said. "i will send word to my colleagues where to meet me an hour later, so that i can inform them of the arrangements." and with a nod garibaldi, who had been unanimously elected general of the roman forces, strolled away. leonard percival had been a captain in the british army, but having become tired of garrison life during the long peace, had sold out in 1837, and sailed for south america, where there were always opportunities for a man of action to distinguish himself. he took part in the struggle of rio grande for separation from brazil. here he first made the acquaintance of garibaldi, and shared with him in the many perilous adventures and desperate fights of that war. becoming disgusted with the factions and intrigues that were rampant at rio, he left the service of the little republic and returned to england. he was the second son of a wealthy english gentleman, who had viewed with much disapproval his leaving the army and undertaking the life of a soldier of fortune when there was no occasion for his doing so, as he had an allowance amply sufficient for him to live upon. his father was not much surprised when, after staying for a month at home, leonard told him that, having a taste for art, he had made up his mind to adopt it as a profession, and should go out to rome to study. this seemed to him better than wandering about the world fighting in quarrels in which he had no concern, and he had no valid reply to his son when the latter said,-"you see, father, you cannot expect me to spend my life in absolute laziness. i must be doing something. the life of a club lounger is the last i should choose. i have no liking for a country life--if i had i would go out to australia or canada and settle; but i know that in a few months i should be home again, for i could not stand a life of solitude. if you can suggest anything better i shall be ready, as far as possible, to be guided by your wishes." "you may as well have your own way, leonard. i suppose it will come to that in the end, and therefore you may as well do it first as last; and at any rate, a few months in rome will be a change for you, and i shall not be expecting by every post a communication saying that you have been killed." so captain percival went to rome, without any idea of staying there more than a year. his plans, however, were changed when he met and fell in love with muriel, the only child of professor forli, a man of almost european reputation for his learning and attainments. his wooing had been an uneventful one. his income was amply sufficient, in the professor's eyes, to keep his daughter in comfort, and, moreover, the master under whom leonard was studying gave an excellent account of his ability and industry, and in 1842 the marriage took place. previous to this leonard had obtained his father's consent to his intended marriage, although not his approval. "i consider that it is one more piece of folly," he wrote. "there was no reason in the world why you should not have settled at home and made a good marriage. i had specially hoped that this would have been the case, as tom still remains a bachelor. however, there are some redeeming points in the matter. i have, through a friend, who is a member of the athenæum, learned that professor forli's name is well known, and that he is considered one of the most learned men in italy. in the next place, the young lady's mother is, as you have told me, an englishwoman of good family, and her daughter is therefore only half an italian. from your description of her, allowing for the usual exaggeration in such cases, she takes after her mother, and might pass anywhere as of unmixed english blood, so i may hope that i shall not have black-haired, swarthy little grandchildren running about. i shall add a couple of hundred a year to your allowance, as i always intended to do when you married." a year later captain percival brought his wife home to england, and stayed there for some time; and here a son was born, who was christened frank, after his grandfather. whatever objections the latter might at first have felt to his son's marriage, they were altogether removed by this visit; neither in appearance nor in speech did his wife betray her foreign origin, for her mother had always conversed with her in english, and she spoke it without the slightest accent. she was now twenty, was strikingly handsome, and very graceful in her movements. he would gladly have kept her and his son with him; but when they had consented to her marriage, her parents had bargained that she should, at any rate, spend a large portion of her time with them, as they had no other children. moreover, her husband was now devoted to art, and although he had only been working for two years, his pictures were already beginning to attract attention. mr. percival was, therefore, obliged to content himself with the promise that they would come over every year for at least four months. the arrangement, however, was not carried out, for, a few months after their return to italy, mr. percival died suddenly. his death made no difference pecuniarily to his son, as he had settled upon him a sum sufficient to produce an income equal to that which he had before been allowed. his elder brother came out a year later, and stayed for a few weeks with him. "you must send this little chap over to england to be educated, leonard," he had said, "if you will persist in sticking in this rotten old city. i don't suppose i shall ever marry; and if not, of course some day he will come in for the property." "but why on earth shouldn't you marry, tom? you know what a trouble it was to our father that you did not do so--it was a real grievance to him." "well, i should really have been glad to oblige him; but somehow or other i never saw any girl whom i earnestly desired to make my wife, or, as i suppose you would call it, fell in love with. i very much prefer knocking about in my yacht, or travelling, to settling down. of course i always spent a month or two, twice a year, at my father's, and was in town three months in the season--that is to say, when i did not get sick of it. then i either went up the mediterranean or to the west indies, or knocked about round england for three or four months, and finished the year with a run up the nile, or out to india or china. now i feel even less inclined to marry than i did before, for if i did, it would simply mean eight months in the year down in the country, and four in london. of course, if i ever do fall in love--and at forty it is hardly likely--i shall marry; i don't bind myself in any way to remain single. anyhow, i am glad that you are married, and that, when i go, there will be another frank percival, who we must hope will be of a more settled disposition than either of us, to reign in the old place." so things had gone on quietly until, in 1848, the revolution in paris was followed by an upheaval all over europe. the ascent of pius ix. to the papal chair was hailed by the liberal party in italy as the commencement of a new era. he was accredited, and not unjustly, with liberal views, and it was believed that he would introduce reforms into the papal states, and act as a centre round which patriots could rally. unfortunately, the party of reform in italy was divided into two classes; of one of these the marquis d'azeglio was the leading spirit; he was a moderate reformer, and looked to a union of italy under a constitutional monarch. carlo alberto, the king of sardinia, seemed to him the only man who could assume that position, and for years d'azeglio had worked quietly to this end. a more violent spirit was however working with as much zeal and energy in another direction. mazzini was an extreme republican of the narrowest kind; he was in communication with men of the same type in france, and had formed secret societies all over italy. he and those with him were anxious to obtain the countenance and prestige which a pope of advanced liberal opinions would give to their party, and pius ix. was received with enthusiastic acclamations by the republican party of rome. but, liberally inclined as he was, he shrank from committing himself wholly to the reformers. he was a weak man; and although his vanity was gratified by his reception, and although he had sincerely desired to introduce broad reforms, he hesitated when called upon to carry those reforms into action. the king of sardinia had been pushed forward by the mazzinians, until he compromised himself, and made advances to the pope, when in 1847 austria violated the papal territories at ferrara. but the pope hesitated. his army was already near the frontier; but he declared that he had no intention of making war, and desired only to protect his territory. the news of the movement had reached monte video; and garibaldi, believing that the pope would stand forth as the champion for the freedom of italy, wrote, offering his services and those of his followers, the greater part of whom were italians who had been exiled for their political opinions. no answer was received from him; and garibaldi took the matter into his own hands, and with eighty-five italians sailed for europe. on arriving at alicante he learned that a revolution had broken out in paris, that carlo alberto had given his people a constitution, that lombardy and venice had risen, that the milanese had driven the austrians out of the city, that there were insurrections in vienna and berlin, that tuscany and rome were sending thousands of volunteers to fight in the national cause, and that even ferdinand of naples had promised his people a constitution. garibaldi was unavoidably detained for some time at nice, his native town, and before he was able to move a change had set in. the lombards and venetians had both quarrelled among themselves. mazzini's party were struggling against those who would have made carlo alberto king of italy. the piedmontese, after brilliant successes at first, were obliged to retreat. the roman volunteers had been forced to capitulate. garibaldi went to see the king, and offer to act with his volunteers in his service; but his application was slighted, and this threw him into the hands of the revolutionary party. it was a grievous mistake on the part of the king; but the latter could not forget that garibaldi had been a rebel against him, nor could garibaldi forget that it was the king who had sentenced him to death and had sent him into exile. he therefore hurried to milan, where he was received with enthusiasm. the king moved to the aid of milan, against which the austrians were advancing; but in that city the party of mazzini was predominant, and they refused to open the gates to him; and early in august the king came to terms with the austrians, and milan surrendered. for a time garibaldi's following alone maintained the war. carrying on a guerilla warfare, he, with fifteen hundred men, was surrounded by five thousand austrians, but he effected a marvellous retreat, and retired into switzerland. here he was taken ill, and was forced to rest for some months. he then went to genoa. the extraordinary skill and bravery which he had shown during the campaign induced the king of sardinia to offer him the rank of general in his army, that being the grade that he had held in monte video. but garibaldi refused, and with two hundred and fifty volunteers started for venice, which was besieged by the austrians. on hearing, however, of the rising in rome and the flight of the pope--who had now abandoned his liberal professions, and had thrown himself into the hands of austria--garibaldi changed his course, and his ranks being swollen as he marched along, he arrived at rome at the head of fifteen hundred men. here he met his comrade in the struggle at rio and monte video. during his six years' residence in rome captain percival had imbibed that hatred of the austrians and detestation of the despotisms under which the italian states groaned, that was felt by all with whom he came in contact, his father-in-law, professor forli, being one of the leaders of the liberal party in rome. his wife, too, was an enthusiast in the cause; and although he felt no sympathy whatever with mazzini and the revolutionary party, he was, even before the arrival of garibaldi, resolved to take up arms should rome be attacked. the presence of garibaldi still further confirmed this resolution; but as soon as he heard that a french expedition had set sail, he had insisted that his wife and child should leave the city, for he by no means shared the general belief that the french were coming as allies. her mother accompanied her to leghorn, for the professor was as anxious as percival that his wife and daughter should be in a place of safety. they were most reluctant to go, and only yielded when signor forli and captain percival declared that their presence in rome would hamper their movements and render it impossible for them to make their escape if the city should be taken, which both foresaw would be the case. they promised that when they found all was lost they would leave the city and join them at leghorn. madame forli was to take her maiden name again; and as two english ladies staying at an hotel at leghorn they would be safe from annoyance even if a french or austrian army marched through the town. the professor spoke english well, and once out of the city he and leonard would be able to pass as two english tourists travelling from naples to florence. had the pope sought refuge in capua or malta, events might have taken a very different turn; but he threw himself into the hands of the king of naples, and went the length of pronouncing him to be a model monarch, a pattern to the rest of europe, and this at a time when the disclosures that had been made respecting the horrible dungeons into which all neapolitans suspected of entertaining liberal views were thrown, were filling europe with horror. this change of front extinguished the hopes of those who had imagined that the pope would become the centre of liberal thought in italy, rendered the people of the papal dominions desperate, and vastly increased the party of mazzini and the extreme republicans. on february 9th a constituent assembly was held in rome, and the republic was proclaimed. garibaldi was appointed to defend the frontier. volunteers poured in from all parts of italy, and as the king of sardinia had again taken up arms, a force was moving forward to support him, when the news came of his defeat at novara, followed by his abdication and the succession of victor emmanuel to the throne. austria, naples, and spain were now eager to crush the revolution in rome; but the resolution of the romans was unshaken, and they still hoped to be able to maintain themselves with, as they expected, the aid of france. the terrible blow that had been inflicted on finding that the french were coming as enemies, instead of as friends, did not shake their determination, although it was now with a courage of despair rather than of hope that they prepared for the conflict. rome must fall; but at least it would prove itself worthy of its best traditions, and set an example that would not be lost upon the peoples of italy. anything, they felt, would be better than the reign of a pope in close alliance with the tyrant of naples; and the evening after the french landing saw rome tranquil and grimly determined. doubtless many of those who were resolved to fight till the last were buoyed up with the hope that in any case they would be able to make their escape when the action was over. rome covered a great extent of ground, and the french army was not of sufficient strength to form a cordon round it. captain percival had, a fortnight before, sent his finished and unfinished canvases and all his most valuable belongings down to civita vecchia, and had shipped them for england. he knew the reckless destruction carried out by an army after a successful assault, and that possibly, if it came to street to street fighting, a considerable portion of the city might be burnt. the professor had similarly sent away his very valuable collection of coins, books, and manuscripts. at nine o'clock they went down to the mansion that garibaldi occupied. a long discussion took place, and routes were decided upon for the various contingents to follow when the alarm was given. news had been brought in from time to time during the day as to the movements of the french, and the point at which they would probably assault was therefore now known. it would be either at the porta cavalleggieri or at the porta san pancrazio. captain percival and the professor returned to the former's house, where the professor had taken up his residence since his wife had gone to leghorn, and sat talking until a late hour. they were roused early the next morning by the ringing of the great bells of the cathedral, which were joined almost immediately by those of all the other churches in the city. captain percival had lain down fully dressed, and springing to his feet, he buckled on a sword, placed a brace of pistols in his belt, and then ran down to the porta san pancrazio, where, as he knew, garibaldi would take up his post. the general, indeed, had not slept at all, but, fearful that the french might attempt an assault under cover of darkness, kept watch round the western wall, along which he had posted the men he could most depend upon. even before the englishman joined garibaldi the roar of the guns on the wall told that the french were already advancing. "it is like old times, comrade," garibaldi said, with a strong grip of his hand, "only it is on a larger scale than we were accustomed to in south america. oudïnot is beginning with a blunder, for he is making for the porta cavalleggieri, which is flanked by the walls of the vatican. he is over-confident, and i do not imagine that he expects anything like a serious resistance. i think we shall certainly beat him back there, and that then he will attack us here. will you go to the other gate? all my old comrades know you, and, indeed, all the volunteers, as you have assisted to drill them." oudïnot, indeed, had believed that the force of regular troops he had with him would easily brush aside the resistance of a half-armed mob. captain percival hurried away. the volunteers were already gathered on the walls, and in every street the townspeople were hurrying out, armed with weapons of all kinds. on the roofs and at the windows of the houses women were clustered thickly, waving their handkerchiefs and scarves, and shouting words of encouragement and applause to the men. to the roar of cannon was now added the rattle of musketry. when he reached the gate he found a heavy column of volunteers drawn up there, while behind them was a dense crowd of excited citizens. from the wall he saw the french advancing; the leading regiment was but a few hundred yards away. they were moving steadily forward, apparently heedless of the cannon that thundered on their flank and face. the musketry they could afford to despise, for they were beyond the distance at which any accurate shooting was possible; and, indeed, the firing was of the wildest description, as comparatively few of the men had ever handled a gun until a few weeks previously. captain percival went up to the officer who was in command, and with whom he was well acquainted. although the massive walls still stood, the gates had long since disappeared, their places being occupied simply by barriers, where the duty on provisions and goods coming into the city was collected. "the men are clamouring to be let out," he said. "what do you think, captain percival?" "i should let them go soon. they are full of dash and enthusiasm at present, and would fight far better on the offensive than they would if they are kept stationary. i should keep them in hand till the french are within seventy or eighty yards of the gate. by that time they will be answering the fire from the walls, and even those in the front lines, whose muskets are still loaded, will only have time for one shot before our men are upon them. i should place three or four hundred of your steadiest men on the wall here, so that if the sortie is repulsed, they can cover the retreat by their fire." "i think that is good advice," the other said. "will you come down with me, and tell them that they shall go, but that they must not move till i give the order, and that no man is to fire until he is within ten yards of the enemy's line." it was difficult to make their voices heard above the crack of musketry and the shouts of the excited crowd; however, their words were passed from man to man, and so back among the people behind. now that they knew that they were to have their way, and that the critical movement was at hand, the shouting abated, and a stern look of determination settled on their faces. leonard percival joined a group of officers who were at the head of the volunteers, and the officer in command resumed his place on the wall, as it was all-important that, if the sortie were repulsed, he should lead his men down and oppose the entrance of the enemy until the retiring force had rallied. it was not long before a roll of musketry broke out, showing that the assailants were now returning the fire of the garibaldians on the wall. it grew louder and louder; and then, when the head of the french column was some eighty yards away, the officer on the wall gave the order, and the volunteers followed by the citizens poured out with a mighty shout. the french halted for a moment in surprise, not having dreamt that the defenders of the town would venture upon sallying out to attack them. then there was a scattered fire of musketry; but most of the barrels were already empty, and few of the balls took effect. without replying, the volunteers rushed forward, opening out as they ran to something like order. when within ten yards of the french bayonets every man delivered his fire, and then hurled himself upon the broken ranks. the struggle was a short one. the weight and impetuosity of the attack, supported as it was by a surging crowd of excited citizens, was irresistible, and the regiment broke and fled hastily to the shelter of the troops following it, leaving the ground strewn with dead and wounded. then the bugles at the gate rang out the order to the exulting crowd to retire. the officers threw themselves in front of the men, and with great difficulty checked the pursuit, and caused them to withdraw to their original position behind the wall. chapter ii. a desperate defence. after a short halt the french, having re-formed, changed their course and marched along parallel to the fortifications. captain percival had, on returning from the sortie, joined the officer on the wall, and watched alternately the movements of the french and the scene in the city. this was one of wild excitement--the men cheering and shouting, shaking each other by the hand, placing their hats on their bayonets, and waving them in answer to the wild applause of the women on the housetops. some, however, were not content at being called back, instead of being allowed to complete what they considered their partial victory; forgetting that they would have been met in a very different manner by the troops in support, who would have been prepared for the attack and would have reserved their fire until the last moment. as soon as it became evident that the french intended to make their next move against the gate of san pancrazio, the greater portion of the volunteers marched in that direction, captain percival accompanying them. "you have done well so far," garibaldi said, as he joined them. "now it will be our turn, and we shall have tougher work than you had, for they will be prepared. i suppose your loss was not heavy?" "very trifling indeed; there were but three dead brought in, and there were some ten or twelve wounded." "it was just the sort of action to raise the spirits of the men, and they are all in the humour for fighting. i shall therefore lead them out here. but we cannot hope to succeed with a rush as you did--they will be prepared for us this time; the best men would be killed before we reached them, and the mass behind, but few of whom have guns, would be simply massacred." the volunteers, who had undergone a rough sort of drill, were assembled before the french had concluded their preparations for an assault. garibaldi appointed captain percival to take charge of the gate, having with him two hundred of the volunteers, behind whom were the armed citizens. these clamoured to go out as before; but garibaldi raised his hand for silence, and then told them that he would not lead them to a useless massacre against an army of well-armed soldiers. "your duty," he said, "is to remain here. if we have to fall back, you will open to let us pass. we shall be ready to do our share when necessary; but the defence of the gate will be for a while entrusted to you. if the enemy force an entrance, fall upon them as you would upon wild beasts; their discipline and their arms would be of no great advantage in a hand-to-hand fight. each man must fight as he would were he protecting his family from a band of wolves--hatchet and pike must meet musket and bayonet, those who have knives must dive among the throng and use them fearlessly. it is a great charge that we entrust to you: we go out to fight; you will guard the city and all you hold dear." a loud cheer showed that he had struck the right chord, and the mob drew back as he led out some five thousand volunteers. these advanced to within musket-shot of the enemy, and then scattering, took shelter behind houses and cottages, walls and ruins. the french cannon opened fire as the movement was going on. these were answered by the guns on the walls, and as the french advanced a murderous fire was opened by their hidden foes. the battle raged for several hours. sometimes the french advanced close up to the position held by the garibaldians, but as soon as they did so, they were exposed also to the fire from the men on the walls; and in spite of captain percival's efforts, groups of men made their way down the road and joined the firing line, lying down until the moment should come when they could spring like wild cats upon the french. once or twice, when the assailants pressed back the garibaldians in spite of their efforts, they found themselves presently opposed by a crowd that seemed to leap from the ground, and who, with wild shouts, rushed upon them so furiously that they recoiled almost panic-struck before so unaccustomed an enemy. men were pulled down, and as garibaldi had given strict orders that no french soldier should be killed except when fighting, these were carried back triumphantly into the city. at last general oudïnot, seeing that his troops were making no progress, and that, even if they could force their way into the city, they would suffer terribly in street-fighting with such assailants, gave the order for his men to retire. this they did sullenly, while a roar of triumphant shouting rose from the volunteers, the men on the walls, and the crowd that covered every house and vantage-ground, from which a view of what was passing outside could be obtained. the italian loss was only about a hundred men killed and wounded, whereas the french lost three hundred killed and wounded and five hundred prisoners. so unprepared was the french general for such a resistance, that he had to undergo the humiliation of sending in to garibaldi to ask him to supply him with surgeons to dress the wounds of the french soldiers. during the fighting the french artillery had done far more injury to works of art in rome than they had inflicted upon the defenders, as the artillery played principally upon the dome of st. peter's and the vatican, both of which buildings were much damaged. the joy caused in rome by this victory was prodigious. fires blazed that night on all the hills, every house was illuminated, the people thronged the streets, shouting and cheering. they had, indeed, much to be proud of: five thousand almost undrilled volunteers had defeated seven thousand of the best troops of france. [illustration: "walking up and down the room like a caged lion"] the french retired at once to palo, on the road to civita vecchia. garibaldi gave his troops a few hours' rest, and then moved out to attack the french, and took up a most advantageous position. his troops were flushed with victory, while the french were cowed and dispirited; and he was on the point of attacking, when general oudïnot sent a messenger to treat for an armistice, and as a proof of his sincerity offered to give up ugo bassi, a priest who had remained by the side of a wounded man when the garibaldians had for a moment retired. garibaldi would peremptorily have refused the request, for he was confident that he should defeat and capture the whole of the french. mazzini, however, with his two associates in the triumvirate, still clung to the hope that the french would aid them, and determined to accept the armistice, fearing that were the whole french army destroyed, the national feeling would be so embittered that there would no longer be any hope whatever of an alliance. garibaldi protested, declaring that the armistice would but enable the french reinforcements to arrive. mazzini, however, persisted in the decision, and actually released the five hundred prisoners in exchange for the priest. the folly of this violent democrat sealed the fate of rome. had garibaldi been permitted to carry out his plans, the french army would have been destroyed or made prisoners to a man, and the enthusiasm that such a glorious victory would have excited throughout all italy would have aroused the whole population to burst their bonds. furious at this act of folly, garibaldi and his troops re-entered rome. he was greeted with enthusiasm by the people, but disliking such ovations, he slipped away with captain percival to the latter's house. professor forli had taken no part in the fighting outside the walls, but stationing himself with the troops that manned them, had kept up a vigorous fire whenever the enemy were within gunshot. after the repulse of the second attack he had returned home. "the stupidity of these people is incredible," garibaldi, who had scarcely spoken a word since he had turned back towards rome, burst out, waving aside the chair that the professor offered him, and walking up and down the room like a caged lion. "we held the french in the palms of our hands, and they have allowed them to escape. a fortnight, and we shall have three times their number to face, and you know what the result will be. i regard the cause as lost, thrown away by mazzini--a man who has never taken part in a battle, who kept himself shut up in the capital when the fighting was going on, a man of the tongue and not of action. it is too disgusting. i am a republican; but if a republic is to be in the hands of men like these, they will drive me to become a monarchist again. carlo alberto was weak, but he was at least a man; he staked his throne for the cause, and when it was lost, retired. mazzini stakes nothing, for he has a safe-conduct; if he loses, he will set to to intrigue again, careless who may fall or what may come to italy, if his own wild ideas cannot prevail; he desires a republic, but it is a republic that he himself shall manipulate. well, if it must be, it must. i am no statesman, but simply a fighting man. i shall fight till the last; and the failure must rest upon the head of him who has brought it about." "it is a bad business," captain percival said quietly. "i thoroughly agree with you, garibaldi, in all you say; but as you know of old, i am not much given to words. i began this thing, and shall go through with it. i think, as you do, the cause is lost; but every blow we strike will find an echo in italy, and a harvest will grow from the seeds some day. as to mazzini and his two companions, i am not surprised. when you stir up muddy water, the scum will at first rise to the top. so it was in the first throes of the french revolution, so it is here; the mob orators, the schemers, come to power, and there they remain until overthrown by men of heart and action. after robespierre and marat came napoleon, a great man whom i acknowledge i admire heartily, enemy though he was of england; after mazzini italy may find her great men. i know you do not like cavour; i admire him immensely. he is obliged to be prudent and cautious now; but when the time comes he will be regarded as the champion of free italy; and from what i have heard of him, the young king victor emmanuel will be a sovereign worthy of him." "i hope it may prove so," garibaldi said shortly; "at present the prospect does not seem to me a fair one. and you, professor?" "i shall carry out my plans, and when rome falls, as fall it doubtless will, i shall, if i escape, join my wife at leghorn, and go and establish myself in england. i have friends and correspondents there, and i have my son-in-law, who has promised me a home. here i could not stay--i am a marked man; and the day that the pope enters in triumph i should be consigned to a dungeon under st. angelo." "there should be no difficulty in escaping," garibaldi said. "with fifteen miles of wall it would need fifty thousand men to surround them; and the french will want all their strength at the point where they attack us." it was evident that some time must elapse before there would be any change in the situation at rome. mazzini was sending despatches to ledru rollin and the french assembly, imploring them to abstain from interference that would lead to the destruction of the roman republic; and until these could be acted upon, or, on the other hand, fresh troops arrived from france, matters would be at a standstill. in the meantime, danger threatened from another quarter; for the king of naples was preparing to move with ten thousand men to reinstate the pope. this force, with twenty pieces of cannon, had advanced as far as albano. three days after the battle, garibaldi told captain percival that he was about to start that evening with four thousand men to meet the neapolitan army, and asked him to accompany him. "the troops will not be warned till an hour before we set out. it is important that no whisper shall reach the enemy as to our intentions or strength." "i shall be glad to go with you," the englishman said. "after the way your men fought against the french, i have no doubt that they will make short work of the neapolitans, however great the odds against them. bomba is hated by his own subjects; and it is hardly likely that they will fight with any zeal in his cause. they are very different foes from the french." accordingly, at eight o'clock on the evening of may 4th, captain percival mounted and joined garibaldi and his staff, and they rode to tivoli, halting among the ruins of adrian's villa. the next morning scouts were sent off towards albano, and returned in the evening with the news that the neapolitans were still there, and showed no signs of any intention to advance, the news of the defeat of the french having, no doubt, greatly quenched king ferdinand's ardour. on the 8th the garibaldians moved to palestrina, and the general despatched a body of men to drive back the scattered parties of neapolitans who were raiding the country. this was done with little loss, the neapolitans in all cases retiring hastily when approached. garibaldi had information that evening that orders had been given for the main body of the enemy to advance and attack him on the following day. the information proved correct; and before noon the neapolitan force was seen approaching, seven thousand strong. garibaldi had no cannon with him, having set out in the lightest marching order. he distributed a portion of his force as skirmishers, keeping the rest in hand for the decisive moment. the neapolitan artillery opened fire, and the main body advanced in good order; but as soon as a heavy fire was opened by the skirmishers, much confusion was observed in their ranks. two other parties were at once sent out; and these, taking every advantage of cover, soon joined in the fray, opening a galling fire upon each flank. several times the neapolitans attempted to advance, urged on by their officers; but the skirmishing line in their front was strengthened from the reserves whenever they did so, until the whole of the garibaldians, with the exception of a thousand of the steadiest troops, were engaged, and an incessant fire was maintained against the heavy ranks of the enemy, whose artillery produced but little effect against their almost unseen foes. for three hours the conflict continued; then, as the garibaldian reserve advanced, the confusion among the enemy reached a point at which it could no longer be controlled, and ferdinand's army fled like a flock of sheep. garibaldi and his staff had exposed themselves recklessly during the fight, riding about among their troops, encouraging them, and warning them not to be carried away by their impetuosity into making an attack, until the enemy were thoroughly shaken and the orders issued for a general charge. a heavy fire was maintained upon the staff by the neapolitans; and it seemed to them that garibaldi had a charmed life, for although several of the staff fell, he continued to ride up and down as if altogether oblivious of the rain of bullets. he did not, however, escape unscathed, being wounded both in the hand and foot. the fugitives did not halt until they had crossed the frontier into neapolitan territory. the garibaldians remained for two or three days at palestrina; and seeing that the neapolitans showed no signs of an intention to advance again, returned by a rapid march to rome. mazzini's efforts had been to some extent successful. the french assembly declared that for france to aid in suppressing a people determined to obtain their freedom was altogether in contradiction with the condition on which the republic had been instituted, and sent m. de lesseps as an envoy to rome. napoleon, however, was of opinion that the reverse to the french arms must be wiped out, and on his own authority despatched large reinforcements to oudïnot. to the indignation of garibaldi's friends and of the greater part of the population of rome, it was found, on the return of the force to the capital, that, in spite of the brilliant successes that had been gained, mazzini and the demagogues had superseded him in his command, and had appointed colonel roselli over his head. this step was the result of their jealousy of the popularity that garibaldi had gained. his friends advised him not to submit to so extraordinary a slight; but the general simply replied that a question of this kind had never troubled him, and that he was ready to serve, even as a common soldier, under any one who would give him a chance of fighting the enemy of his country. on the 14th the neapolitan army again advanced and occupied palestrina; and the roman army, now ten thousand strong, marched out on the 16th. garibaldi, with two thousand men, moved in advance. although roselli was nominally in command of the army, he was conscious of garibaldi's greater abilities, and deferred, on all points, to the opinion of the man who was regarded by all as being still their commander-in-chief. when within two miles of velletri garibaldi met a strong column of neapolitans; these, however, after but a slight resistance, took to flight, and shut themselves up in the town. garibaldi sent back for reinforcements, but none arrived until too late in the day for the attack to be made; and in the morning it was found that the enemy had evacuated the place, the soldiers being so cowed by their superstitious fear of garibaldi that the officers in vain attempted to rally them, and they fled in a disorderly mob. the panic reached the other portion of the army, and before morning the whole had again crossed the frontier. garibaldi, at the head of his division, followed them up; and receiving authority to carry the war into the enemy's country, was marching upon naples, when he was recalled in all haste to aid in the defence of rome, oudïnot having given notice, in spite of a treaty agreed upon between m. de lesseps, on the part of the french assembly, and mazzini, that he would attack rome on monday, june 4th. oudïnot was, however, guilty of an act of gross treachery, for, relying upon his intimation, the city was lulled into a sense of security that no attack would be made until the day named, whereas before daybreak on the 3rd his troops stole up and took possession of the buildings just outside the gate of san pancrazio, and, before the roman troops could assemble, captured the porta molle, after a desperate resistance by a few men who had gathered together on the alarm being given. the firing was the first intimation that rome received of the treacherous manoeuvre of oudïnot. again the church bells pealed out, and the populace rushed to defend their walls. garibaldi felt that the occupation by the enemy of two great villas, a short distance from the wall, would enable them to place their batteries in such close proximity to the san pancrazio gate that it was necessary at all hazards to recapture them; and, with his brave lombard volunteers, he sallied out and attacked the french desperately. all day long the fight continued, both parties being strongly reinforced from time to time; but in fighting of this kind the discipline of the french soldiers, and the military knowledge of their officers, gave them a great advantage over the italians, who fought with desperate bravery, but without that order and community of effort essential in such a struggle. in vain did garibaldi and colonel medici, the best of his officers, expose themselves recklessly in their endeavours to get their men to attack in military order and to concentrate their efforts at the given point; in vain did the soldiers show a contempt for death beyond all praise. when night fell the french still held possession of the outposts they had gained, and the italians fell back within the walls. that night garibaldi held a council of war, at which captain percival was present. the latter and colonel medici were strongly of opinion that a renewal of the fighting of that day would be disastrous. the loss had already been very great, and it had been proved that, however valiantly they fought, the volunteers were unable to wrest the strong positions held by a superior force of well-disciplined men; for the french army now numbered forty thousand, while that of the defenders was but twelve thousand, and of these more than half had joined within the last three weeks. a series of such failures as those they had encountered would very quickly break the spirit of the young troops, and would but precipitate the end. these opinions prevailed, and it was decided that for the present they should remain on the defensive, maintaining a heavy cannonade from the walls, and making occasional sorties to harass the besiegers. in the meantime, the bridge across the tiber should be destroyed, and, if possible, mines should be driven to blow up the batteries that would be erected by the french under cover of the positions they held. these tactics were followed out. the french engaged upon the erection of the batteries were harassed by a continuous cannonade. sorties were frequently made, but these were ere long abandoned; the loss suffered on each occasion being so heavy that the troops no longer fought with the courage and enthusiasm that had so animated them during the first day's fighting. the attempt to blow up the bridge across the river by means of a barge loaded with explosives failed, and none of the defenders possessed the knowledge that would have enabled them to blow in the centres of the arches. the mines were equally unsuccessful, as the french countermined, and by letting in the water formed a streamlet that ran into the tiber, filled the italian works, and compelled the defenders to desist from their labours. nevertheless, the progress of the siege was hindered; and although it was certain that the city, if unaided, must fall ere long, mazzini still clung to the hope that the treaty made by lesseps and carried by him to paris would be recognised. this last hope was crushed by the arrival of a french envoy with the declaration that the french government disavowed any participation in the convention signed by m. de lesseps. even garibaldi now admitted that further resistance would only bring disaster upon the city, and cause an absolutely useless loss of life. mazzini and his two colleagues persisted in their resolution to defend the town to the last, even if the french laid it in ashes, and they even reproached garibaldi with cowardice. on the night of the 21st the french gained possession of the san pancrazio gate, having driven a passage up to it unnoticed by the defenders. they at once seized the wall and captured two bastions, after a desperate defence by garibaldi. they then planted cannon upon these and began to bombard the city. twelve guns were also planted in a breach that had been effected in the wall, and terrible havoc was made among the villas and palaces in the western part of the city. roselli proposed that the whole defending force should join in an attack on the french batteries; but to that garibaldi would not consent, on the grounds that these could not be carried without immense loss, and that, even if captured, they could not be held against the force the french would bring up to retake them. gradually the assailants pushed their way forward, encountering a determined resistance at the capture of the villa savorelli. on the evening of the 27th no fewer than four hundred of its defenders fell by bayonet wounds, showing how desperately they had contested every foot of the advance. on the morning of the 30th three heavy columns of french advanced simultaneously, and carried the barricades the romans had erected. garibaldi, with the most determined of his men, flung himself upon the enemy; and for a time the desperation with which they fought arrested the advance. but it was a last effort, and garibaldi sent to mazzini to say that further resistance was impossible. he was summoned before the triumvirate, and there stated that, unless they were resolved to make rome a second saragossa, there was no possible course but to surrender. in the end the triumvirate resigned, issuing a proclamation that the republic gave up a defence which had become impossible. the assembly then appointed garibaldi as dictator, and he opened negotiations with the french. so enthusiastic were the citizens that, in spite of the disasters that had befallen them, many were still in favour of erecting barricades in every street and defending every house. the majority, however, acquiesced in garibaldi's decision that further resistance would be a crime, since it would only entail immense loss of life and the destruction of the city. for three days negotiations were carried on, and then garibaldi, with four thousand men, left the city and marched for tuscany, while the french occupied rome. but in tuscany the patriots met with but a poor reception, for the people, though favourable, dared not receive them. the french had followed in hot pursuit; the austrians in tuscany were on the look-out for them; and at last, exhausted and starving, they took refuge in the little republic of san marino. here they were kindly received; but an austrian army was advancing, and the authorities of the republic were constrained to petition that the garibaldians, now reduced to but fifteen hundred men, should be allowed to capitulate, and that they themselves should not be punished for having given them refuge. these terms were granted, but the archduke insisted upon garibaldi himself surrendering. the general, however, effected his escape with his wife and twelve followers, embarking on board a fishing-boat, and they reached the mouth of the po; the rest of the band were permitted by the austrians to return to their homes. garibaldi, alone, with his dying wife, was able to conceal himself among some bushes near the river; his companions were all taken by the austrians and shot. nine other boats, laden with his followers, could not get off before the pursuing austrians arrived; and a heavy fire being directed upon them, they were forced to surrender. garibaldi's faithful wife, who had been his companion throughout all his trials, died a few days later. the austrian pursuit was so hot that he was forced to leave her body; and after many dangers, he reached genoa. he was not allowed to remain in sardinia; and from thence took ship to liverpool, and there embarked for new york. fortunately for captain percival, he and professor forli had, when on june 27th garibaldi himself recognised that all further resistance was useless, determined to leave the city. when he stated his decision to garibaldi, the latter warmly approved. "you have done all that could be done, comrade," he said; "it would be worse than folly for you to remain here, and throw away your life. would that all my countrymen had fought as nobly for freedom as you have done, for a cause that is not yours!" "i have a right to consider it so, having made rome my home for years, and being married to the daughter of a roman. however, we may again fight side by side, for assuredly this will not be the last time that an attempt will be made to drive out the despots; and i feel sure that italy will yet be free. i trust that you do not mean to stay here until it is too late to retire. you must remember that your life is of the greatest value to the cause, and that it is your duty, above all things, to preserve it for your country." "i mean to do so," garibaldi said. "as soon as all see that further resistance is useless, i shall leave rome. if i find that any spark of life yet remains in the movement, i shall try to fan it into flame; if not, i shall again cross the atlantic until my country calls for me." that evening captain percival and the professor left the town. there was no difficulty in doing so, as the whole french force was concentrated at the point of attack. the professor had exchanged his ordinary clothes for some of his companion's, and their appearance was that of two english tourists, when in the morning they entered ostia, at the mouth of the tiber, by the road leading from albano. as many fugitives from rome had, during the past month, embarked from the little port, and it was no unusual thing for english tourists to find their way down there, they had no difficulty in chartering a fishing-craft to take them to leghorn, it being agreed that they should be landed a mile or two from the town, so that they could walk into it without attracting any attention, as they would assuredly be asked for passports were they to land at the port. the voyage was altogether unattended by incident; and on landing they made a detour and entered the town from the west, sauntering quietly along, as if they had merely been taking a walk in the country. ten minutes later they entered the lodging that madame forli had taken, after staying for a few days at an hotel. great indeed was the joy which their arrival excited. the two ladies had been suffering terrible anxiety since the fighting began at rome, and especially since it was known that the french had obtained possession of one of the gates, and that a fierce struggle was going on. they were sure their husbands would keep their promise to leave the city when the situation became desperate; but it was too likely that captain percival might have fallen, for it was certain that he would be in the thick of the fighting by the side of garibaldi. it was, then, with rapturous delight that they were greeted, and it was found that both were unharmed. it was at once decided to start by a steamer that would leave the next day. both the ladies possessed passports: muriel that which had been made out for her husband and herself on their return from their visit to england; while her mother had one which the professor had obtained for both of them when the troubles first began, and he foresaw that it was probable he might have to leave the country. therefore no difficulty was experienced on this score; and when the party went on board the next day the documents were stamped without any questions being asked. not the least delighted among them to quit leghorn was frank, who was now four years old. he had found it dull indeed in their quiet lodging at leghorn, and missed his father greatly, and his grandfather also, for the professor was almost as fond of the child as its parents. there were but few passengers besides themselves, for in the disturbed state of italy, and, indeed, of all europe, there were very few english tourists in 1848; and even those who permanently resided in italy had for the most part left. the passengers, therefore, were, with the exception of the two ladies and captain percival, all italians, who were, like signor forli, leaving because they feared that the liberal opinions they had ventured to express--when it seemed that with the accession of a liberal pontiff to the papal chair better times were dawning for italy--would bring them into trouble now it was but too evident that the reign of despotism was more firmly established than ever. the steamer touched at genoa, and here the greater portion of her passengers left, among them professor forli's party. they took train to milan, where they stopped for a few days, crossed the alps by the st. gothard's pass, spent a fortnight in switzerland, and then journeyed through bâle, down the rhine to cologne, and thence to england. they were in no hurry, for time was no object to any of them, as they were well supplied with money; and after the excitement and trouble of the last few months, the quiet and absence of all cause for uneasiness was very pleasant to them. on their arrival at tom percival's town residence in cadogan place sad news awaited them. only a fortnight before, his yacht had been run down at sea, and he and the greater part of the crew had perished. chapter iii. troubles. the death of tom percival naturally made a great difference to his brother's position. he was now a large land-owner, with a fine place in the country and a house in town. the next nine years of his life were unmarked by any particular incident. signor forli and his wife were permanently established in cadogan place. the professor had never been accustomed to a country life, and in london he was able to indulge in all his former pursuits. he had always laid by a certain amount of his income, and could have lived in some comfort in london, as until the troubles began he had received, in addition to his modest salary as a professor, the rents of a property he possessed near naples, of which place he was a native. but neither captain percival nor his wife would hear of his setting up an establishment of his own. "we shall not be up in town above three months of the year at the outside," the former said; "and of course muriel will always want to have you with us for that time, for i know very well that you will seldom tear yourself from your work and come down and stay with us in the country. it will be far better for us that the house shall be always used, instead of being left for nine months in the year to caretakers. you can fit up the library with cases for your coins and manuscripts. you have already made the acquaintance of many of the scientific and learned men you formerly corresponded with, and will soon get a very pleasant society of your own. it will be better in all respects. you can shut up the rooms you don't use, while the servants whom i keep to look after the house must in any case be told to consider you as their master; and you can, if you choose, get a couple of italian servants as your own special domestics." and so, after much argument, it was settled, and for some years things went on to the satisfaction of all. when ten years old frank was sent to a preparatory school for harrow, and three years later to the great school itself. just at this time the professor determined to pay a visit to italy. since the fall of rome everything had gone on quietly there; and although persons suspected of liberal ideas had been seized and thrown into prison without any public inquiry, he considered that now that he had been settled in england for years, and had become a naturalised british subject, he could without any risk go over to make an effort to obtain a reversal of the confiscation of his property in the neapolitan territory. before starting he had called upon the official representative of the neapolitan government, and had been assured by him that his passport as a british subject would be respected, and that if he refrained from taking any part in politics he could travel in king ferdinand's territories without any fear of his movements being in any way interfered with. up to this time captain percival and his wife had been strongly against the proposed visit, but after the professor had received this official assurance they believed with him that he could in perfect safety undertake the journey. he wrote on his arrival at naples, stating that he had, as soon as he landed, called upon one of the ministers, and reported to him the assurance that the envoy in london had given him, and had been told that, while expressing no opinion upon the probability of his obtaining a reversal of the confiscation of his estate, there could be no objection whatever to his endeavouring to do so, but that he did not think the government would authorise his establishing himself permanently in the kingdom, as his well-known political opinions would naturally render him obnoxious. he had given his assurance that he had no intention whatever of remaining beyond the time necessary for the purpose for which he had come; that he had now permanently settled in england, and had only come over for the purpose that he had specified; and that on no account would he hold any political discussions with such personal friends as he had in italy, or give any expression whatever of his own views. he wrote that, as he had said before starting, he did not intend to call upon any of his former acquaintances, as, if he did so, it might bring them into discredit with the government. no other letter was received from him. after waiting for three weeks, captain percival wrote to the proprietor of the hotel from which the previous letter was dated, asking if he was still there, and if not, if he was aware of his present address. the answer was received in due time, saying that professor forli had gone out one morning, a week after his arrival, with the intention, he believed, of visiting his former estate, but that he had not returned. two days later a person had arrived bearing a letter from him, saying that he had changed his plans and should not return to naples, and requesting that his luggage and all personal effects should be handed over to the bearer, who would discharge the amount owing for his bill. he had complied with the request, and had since received no communication from professor forli. captain percival went at once to call upon the minister for foreign affairs, stated the whole circumstances to him, and the assurance that the professor had received from the neapolitan envoy before starting, and said that he felt sure that, in spite of his assurance and the protection of his passport as a british subject, his father-in-law had been seized and thrown into prison. "if that is the case, a serious wrong has been committed," the minister said. "but we cannot assume that without some proof. he may have been seized by some brigands, who by a ruse have obtained possession of his effects; possibly the person now in possession of the estate, fearing that he might be ousted from it, has taken these means for suppressing a claimant who might be dangerous. however, what you have told me is sufficient for me to commence action, by making a complaint to the neapolitan government that a british subject, duly furnished with a passport, is missing, and requesting that measures shall at once be taken to ascertain what has become of him." correspondence went on for three or four months, the neapolitan government protesting that they had made inquiries in every direction, but had obtained no clue whatever as to professor forli's movements from the time when he left his hotel, and disclaiming any knowledge whatever of him. it was now january 1858, and lord palmerston, who was then prime minister, took the case up warmly, and captain percival had several interviews with him. "i quite agree with you, sir," the minister said, "that he is probably in a neapolitan dungeon; but at present we have no absolute proof of it; if we had i should summon ferdinand to release him under a threat of war." "i am quite ready to go out, sir, to make personal inquiries; and if you could obtain for me an order to visit the various jails and fortresses in the neapolitan territories, i may succeed in finding him." "i will obtain for you such an order," lord palmerston said decidedly. "if they refuse my request, i shall be forced to the conclusion that they are afraid of your finding him there--not that i think it is likely you will do so. indeed i regard it as certain that he would be removed from any prison before you arrived there, or if still there, that his dungeon would not be shown to you. at the same time, you would be doing good work. already there have been some terrible disclosures as to the state of the neapolitan prisons. these, however, have chiefly been made by men who have been confined there, and have been denounced as calumnies by the neapolitan government; but coming from you, armed with the authority of our foreign office, they could not but make a profound impression. they might force the authorities to ameliorate the present state of things, and would certainly enlist the sympathy of the british public with the cause with which professor forli was associated, and for which i am aware you yourself fought." a fortnight later captain percival was again sent for by the foreign minister. "here," the latter said, "is a royal order from the king of naples for you to view any or all the prisons in his dominions without let or hindrance, in order to assure yourself that professor forli is not an inmate of any of them." two days later captain percival started. on arriving at naples, he first called upon the neapolitan minister, who expressed himself with some indignation on the fact that the assurance of the government that they knew nothing of professor forli's disappearance had been doubted; but stated that they were ready to offer him any facility in his search. before commencing this, captain percival went out to the professor's estate, near capua, and saw the proprietor, who assured him that he had neither seen nor heard anything of its late owner; and although his assertions would have weighed but little if unsupported, captain percival's investigations in the town and of several persons upon the estate all tended to show that the professor had not been seen there. his appearance was familiar to many, and he could hardly have visited the place without being recognised. captain percival went to see several of signor forli's old friends, upon whom he would almost certainly have called before going to the estate, and from whom, indeed, he would have received far more information as to its condition than he would have obtained by direct application to a man who could not but have regarded him with hostility; none of them, however, had heard of his return to italy. after stopping two or three days there, he returned to naples and began his inspection of the prisons. the royal order being presented, he was everywhere received courteously, allowed to inspect them from the lowest dungeons to the attics under the roofs, and also to hold conversations with the prisoners. he had no idea that he would actually find the professor; his great hope was that he should learn from prisoners that he had been confined there, as this would enable the british government to demand his instant release. terrible as had been the descriptions he had heard of the treatment of the prisoners and the state of the jails, they fell far short of the reality; and he not only sent detailed reports to the government, but also to _the times_, which published them in full. they were copied into every paper in the kingdom, and created a general feeling of indignation and disgust. failing to obtain the smallest information as to the professor at naples, captain percival then went down to salerno, and left there with the intention of visiting the prisons in calabria and at reggio, and afterwards of crossing into sicily and trying the gaols there. four days after he left salerno, the servant he had engaged in naples returned to the town with the news that the carriage had been attacked by brigands, and that his master, who always carried a brace of pistols, had offered a desperate resistance, but had been killed. the horses had been taken out of the carriage, and they and captain percival's luggage had been carried off to the hills. he himself had been allowed to return. the governor of salerno at once sent the man to naples; the news was officially communicated to the british envoy, who telegraphed at once to london. a message was returned, saying that an official communication would be addressed to the government, and in the meantime he was to send down one of the officers of the embassy to inquire into the whole matter. he was to request the neapolitan government to furnish an escort from salerno, and was also to demand that steps should be taken to pursue and bring the brigands to justice. the secretary of the legation had no difficulty in obtaining the order for an escort; and taking with him the servant who had brought the news, proceeded to the place where the affair had occurred. the carriage was found overthrown by the roadside. there were two or three bullet-holes in it; there was a dark patch evidently caused by blood in the road close by; and a few yards away was a bloodstained cap, which the servant recognised as being that of captain percival. following up a track which led off the main road from here, they came upon some fragments of letters, among them one on which were the words, "your loving wife, muriel." for two or three days the hills on each side of the track were searched, but no sign whatever was found of captain percival's body. in the meantime, a strong force of carabinieri searched the mountains, and three weeks after the return to naples of the search party from the legation, came the news that they had surprised and killed a notorious brigand leader with three of his followers, and had taken prisoner a fourth. this man was sent to naples, and there questioned by a judicial official in the presence of the secretary of the legation. he acknowledged that he had been one of the party, consisting of their leader and seven followers, who had attacked the englishman's carriage. they had not intended to kill him, but to carry him off for ransom; he, however, resisted so desperately that he was shot. although very seriously wounded, they had carried him up to the mountains, believing that he would recover, and that they might still make money out of him. the man himself had been sent down to salerno to ascertain whether the authorities were taking any steps to hunt down his capturers. as soon as he learned that a strong force of carabinieri had been ordered out in pursuit, he had returned to the hut occupied by his chief. he found that during his absence the prisoner had died. he had never asked where he had been buried, for it was a matter that did not concern him. the contents of the portmanteau had been divided among the party; he was himself now wearing the boots and one of the shirts of the dead man. that was all he knew. the captain of the carabinieri testified that he had found an english portmanteau and many articles, some of which bore the initials "l. p." upon them; there was a brace of handsome pistols of english make, which were used by the chief of the brigands in the fight; and in a cupboard among other things was the royal order for captain percival to visit his majesty's prisons. a diligent search had been made in the neighbourhood of the hut, but the grave of the english gentleman had not been discovered. in due time the brigand was placed on trial, and was sentenced to imprisonment for life; and so the matter ended, save for the two widowed women and frank. it had been a heavy blow indeed for the lad, who was passionately attached to his father, and had also loved the professor, who had always been extremely fond of him. he was at home for easter when the terrible news arrived. neither his mother nor grandmother expressed a doubt that his father had been murdered; and when the news of the confession of one of the band and the discovery of captain percival's belongings in the hut of the brigands arrived, they gave up all hope of ever seeing him again. madame forli, however, while not doubting that captain percival had been killed, believed that the neapolitan government were at the bottom of the matter. "i know what the methods of the neapolitans are," she said; "and the sensation caused by leonard's letters to the papers here may have decided them to put an end by any method to further revelations, and they may very well have employed these brigands to carry out their purpose. every one knows that in many cases these men are in alliance with the officers of the police; and the latter are well paid to wink at their doings, and even to furnish them with information of the persons worth robbing, and to put them on their guard when, as occasionally happens, a raid is made by the carabinieri in the mountains. a capture is hardly ever effected; and while there is little chance of a political prisoner once shut up in their dungeons making his escape, notorious brigands frequently succeed in doing so. nobody dares to speak of their suspicions; but there can be little doubt that the prison officials are bribed to connive at their escape, knowing well enough that the government will not trouble over the matter, while on the other hand the escape of a political prisoner brings disgrace and punishment upon all the prison officials." "i cannot think--i will not think so, mother," muriel exclaimed; "for were it so, the same treatment might be given to him that has, we have no doubt, befallen my father. a thousand times better that leonard should have been killed, than that he should drag out his existence in such utter misery as that which he has described as being the lot of prisoners in the dungeons of bomba. the brigands may have been set on by their government. that is possible--i can believe that iniquitous government to be guilty of anything--but whether leonard was attacked merely for plunder, or for ransom, or by the connivance of the government, i cannot and will not doubt that he is dead; the story of one of the band can leave no doubt of this, and it is confirmed by his servant, who saw him fall. never try to shake my confidence in that, mother. it was almost more than i could bear to think of my father as confined in one of those dungeons; if i thought for a moment that leonard could be there too, i believe that i should lose my reason." frank returned to school after the short holidays. his mother thought that it would be better so, as the routine of work and play would give him little time for moping over his loss. he worked harder than he had ever done at school before; but obtained leave off cricket, and spent his time out of school in long walks with one or other of his chums. after the summer holiday he was himself again. he was quieter than he had been, and held aloof from fun and mischief, but joined in the sports vigorously, and regained the ground he had lost, and came to be regarded as likely some day to be one of the representatives of the school. when it seemed that the search for the body of captain percival had failed, mrs. percival wrote to the secretary of the legation in naples, saying that she would be glad if her husband's courier would come over to see her. "i naturally wish to know," she said, "as much as i can of the last movements of my husband from the only person who was with him; and i would willingly bear the expenses of his journey both ways, and pay him fifty pounds. i did not receive any letter from my husband during the fortnight preceding his death, and want to learn as much as possible about him." the secretary, on receiving the letter, sent the note to the chief of the police, in whose charge the man had been while the investigations were proceeding; an answer was returned saying that the man beppo paracini was not now in his charge, but that perhaps he could find him in the course of a few hours, and would, on doing so, send him to the legation at once. instead of seeing the man himself, however, the officer went to the director of the secret police. "as this affair has been in your department rather than in mine, signor, i thought it best to bring you this note i have just received from the british legation before taking any steps in the matter." the official read the note through. "you have done quite right," he said. "the affair has been a very troublesome one, and now that it has practically come to an end, it would not do to take any false step in the matter. you shall hear from me in the course of the day." he sat thinking deeply for some minutes after the other had left him, then he touched a bell. "luigi," he said, when a man entered, "go and fetch beppo paracini; if he is not in, find where he has gone and follow him." half an hour later the courier entered. when before the court he had been dressed in the fashion affected by his class; now he was in dark, quiet clothes, and might have been taken for an advocate or notary. "beppo," he said, "i thought that we had finished with that troublesome affair of the englishman; but there is again occasion for your services in the same direction. here is a letter from the secretary of the british legation saying that he wishes to see you, for that the signora percival has written to him to say that she is anxious to learn more of the last days of her husband, and is willing to pay your expenses to england and to give you fifty pounds for your services, if you would be willing to go to her for a few days. i regard this as a fortunate circumstance. the woman's husband and her father have been constant enemies of the kingdom. percival was a bosom friend of garibaldi; her father was also his friend, though not to the same degree. ever since they established themselves in england his family, who are unfortunately rich, have befriended italian exiles. "forli was acquainted with all his compatriots in london, who, like himself, were men of education and position, and had escaped from justice. in that house any plot that was on foot, especially if garibaldi was a leading spirit in it, would certainly be known. no doubt the loss of her husband will make this woman more inveterate against us than ever. i have often wished that i could establish an agent in her house, to keep me informed of what was going on there, who visited it, whether any meetings and consultations were held there, from whom they received letters, and the purport of them, but i have never before seen my way to it. the woman forli is herself english, and consequently since her husband's death no italian servants have been kept in the house. this letter gives me the opportunity i have desired. i wish you to go to the british legation, and to express your willingness to accept the offer that is made, and if possible to obtain a situation in the house. "you could represent that you were anxious to obtain a place of any kind in england, for that, owing to the part that you have taken in the search for percival's body--a search which brought about the death of the brigand rapini and the breaking up of his band--your life was no longer safe there from the vengeance of his associates. you can say that before you became a courier you were in the service of several noble families--of course you will be provided with excellent testimonials--and as it was your zeal in her late husband's behalf that had brought you into this strait, it is quite possible that she may offer you a post in the household. you can declare that you do not desire high wages, but simply a shelter. you will, of course, report yourself on arriving in london to the head of our secret agents there, and will act generally under his directions. i need not say that you will be well paid." "i will gladly accept the mission, signor, for, to say the truth, i am not without some apprehensions such as you suggest. i have changed my appearance a good deal; still, i cannot flatter myself that i could not be detected by any one on the search for me, and i do think that some of rapini's band, knowing that i was with the carabinieri, may have vowed vengeance on me; and, as you know, signor, a man so threatened cannot calculate on a very long life." "that is so, beppo. then we may consider the matter settled. if you cannot succeed in obtaining a position in the house of this family, i shall instruct my agent in london to utilise your services there, at any rate for the next six months. after that time you may return without much risk, for when it is found that you have disappeared from all your former haunts, the search for you is not likely to last long. at any rate, you might as well mention to those who have known you as a courier, that you intend to establish yourself either in paris or berlin. for as you speak both french and german as well as english, that would in any case be the course that a prudent man would adopt, after being mixed up in an affair that ended badly for the brigands. well, in the first place, you had better go at once to the legation and accept their terms. come here at eleven o'clock to-morrow, and i will give you further instructions." thus it happened that when frank came home next time from school, he was surprised at having the door opened to him by a grave-looking servant in plain clothes, who said in english, with a very slight foreign accent: "the signora percival is in the drawing-room, sir. i will see to your baggage and settle with the cabman." "whom have you got hold of now, mother?" he said, after the first greeting--"an italian? isn't he a fearfully respectable-looking man? looks like a clergyman got up as a valet." "he was your dear father's courier, frank. i sent for him to come over here, as i wished to learn all about your father's last days. the poor fellow was in fear of his life, owing to the evidence that he had given against the brigands. william had given me notice that he was going to leave only the day before; and as beppo had served in several noble families, who had given him splendid testimonials, and was afraid to return to italy, i was very glad to take him in william's place, especially as he only asked the same wages i paid before. i congratulate myself on the change, for he is quite the beau-ideal of a servant--very quiet in the house, ready to do anything, gets on well with the other servants, and is able to talk in their own language to any of his countrymen who come here, either as visitors or as exiles in need of assistance. he has, indeed, saved me more than once from impostors; he has listened to their stories, and having been a courier, and knowing every town in italy, on questioning them he found out that their whole story was a lie." "that is all right, mother; if you like him, that is everything. i own that i liked william; i am sorry that he has gone. i shall be some time getting accustomed to this chap, for he certainly is fearfully grave and respectable." chapter iv. a sudden summons. one saturday early in march, 1860, frank, now sixteen years of age, on starting for the football ground, was told that the house-master wished to see him, and he at once went into his study. "percival, i have received a note from your mother, asking me to let you out till monday morning. she says that she particularly wants to see you, and will be glad if you will start at once. of course i will do so; you had better catch the next train, if you can." "what in the world can the mater want to see me in such a hurry for?" frank said to himself in a rather discontented tone as he left the master's study. "it is a frightful nuisance missing the match this afternoon! i don't know what hawtrey will say when i tell him that i cannot play. ah! here he is." "what is up, percival?" "i am awfully sorry to say that i have just received a message from my mater calling me up to town at once. i have no idea what it is about; but it must be something particular, for i told her when i wrote to her last that this was going to be the toughest match of the season; still, of course i must go." "i see that, percival. it is a terrible nuisance; you are certainly the third best in the house, and now i shall have to put fincham in, i suppose, and i am afraid that will mean the loss of the match." "he is as strong as i am, hawtrey." "yes; he is strong enough and heavy enough, but he is desperately slow. however, i must make the best of him." frank hurried upstairs, and in ten minutes came down again, dressed. he ran the greater part of the way to the station, and just caught the up train. the disappointment over the football match was forgotten now. thinking it over, he had come to the conclusion that either his mother or grandmother must have been taken seriously ill. it could hardly be his mother, for it was she who had written; still, she might have managed to do that, even if she had met with some sort of accident, if it was not too serious. if not she, it must be the signora, as he generally called her, and as he was very fond of her, he felt that her loss would be a heavy one indeed. his anxiety increased as he neared london; and as soon as the train stopped at euston he jumped out, seized the first hansom, and told the cabman to drive fast to cadogan place. he leaped out, handed his fare to the cabman, ran up the steps, and knocked at the door. "is every one well, beppo?" he asked breathlessly, as the servant opened it. "yes, sir," the footman replied, in his usual calm and even voice. "thank god for that!" he exclaimed. "where is my mother?" "in the dining-room, sir, with the signora." frank ran upstairs. "mother, you have given me quite a fright," he said. "from your message i thought that some one must have been suddenly taken ill, or you would never have sent for me when you knew that we played in the final ties for the house championship to-day. i have been worrying horribly all the way up to town." "i forgot all about your match, frank," his mother said. "i have had a letter that put it out of my head entirely." "a letter, mother?" "yes, frank; from your hero, garibaldi." "what is it about, mother?" frank exclaimed excitedly, for he had heard so much of the italian patriot from his father, and of their doings together in south america and the siege of rome, that his admiration for him was unbounded. "sit down, frank, and i will tell you all about it. the letter was addressed to your dear father. garibaldi, being in caprera, probably has but little news of what is passing at naples. he had heard of my father's disappearance, but was apparently in ignorance of what has happened since." she took out the letter and read: "'my dear comrade and friend,- "'when i last wrote to you it was to condole with you on the disappearance of that true patriot and my good friend, professor forli. i hope that long ere this he has been restored to you; but if, as i fear, he has fallen into the clutches of the rascally government of naples, i am afraid that you will never hear of him again. several times, when you have written to me, you have told me that you were prepared to join me when i again raised the flag of italian independence, though you held aloof when france joined us against austria. you did rightly, for we were betrayed by the french as we were at rome, and my birthplace, nice, has been handed over to them. you also said that you would help us with money; and, as you know, money is one of our chief requisites. the time has come. i am convinced that the population of the neapolitan territories are now reduced to such a state of despair by the tyranny of their government that they will be ready to hail us as deliverers. "'my plan is this: i am sure a thousand or so of the men who fought with me in the alps will flock to my standard, and with these i intend to effect a landing in sicily. if i capture palermo and messina i think i can rely upon being joined by no small number of men there, and by volunteers from all parts of italy; five thousand men in all will be sufficient, i think--at any rate, that number collected, i shall cross to the mainland and march upon naples. you may think that the adventure is a desperate one, but that is by no means my opinion; you know how easily we defeated the neapolitan troops in 1848. i believe that we shall do so still more easily now, for certainly very many of them must share in the general hatred of the tyrant. come, dear friend, and join us; the meeting-place is called the villa spinola, which is a few miles from genoa. "'i do not anticipate any great interference from cavour; he will run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, as your proverb has it. he dare not stop us; for i am convinced that such is the state of public opinion in italy, that it might cost his master his crown were he to do so. on the other hand, he would be obliged to assume an attitude of hostility, or he would incur the anger of austria, of the papacy, and possibly of france; therefore i think that he will remain neutral, although professing to do all in his power to prevent our moving. i am promised some assistance in money, but i am sure that this will fall short of the needs. we must buy arms not only for ourselves, but to arm those who join us; we must charter or buy steamers to carry us to sicily. once there, i regard the rest as certain. come to me with empty hands, and you will receive the heartiest welcome as my dear friend and comrade; but if you can aid us also with money, not only i, but all italy, will be grateful to you. i know that you need no inducement, for your heart is wholly with us, and all the more so from this disappearance of madame's father, doubtless the work of the tyrants. need i say that our first step in every town and fortress we capture will be to release all political prisoners confined there?--and it may be that among these we will find professor forli. turr will be with me, baron stocco of calabria, bixio, and tuckory; and madame carroli has written to tell me that she places her three sons at my disposal in the place of their brave brother, and will, moreover, supply me with money to the utmost of her power. come, then, dear friend, aid me with your arm and counsel, and let us again fight side by side in the cause of liberty.'" frank leapt to his feet. "you will let me go in my father's place, mother, will you not? many of those who will follow garibaldi will be no older than myself, and probably not half so strong; none can hate the tyranny of naples more than i do. it is the cause for which my father and grandfather fought; and we now have greater wrongs than they had to avenge." "that is what i thought you would say, frank," his mother said sadly. "'tis hard indeed to part with a son after having lost father and husband; but my father was an italian patriot, my husband fought for italy; in giving you up i give up my all; yet i will not say you nay. so fierce is the indignation in england at the horrors of the tyrants' prisons that i doubt not many english will, when they hear of garibaldi's landing in sicily, go out to join him; and if they are ready in the cause only of humanity to risk their lives, surely we cannot grudge you in the cause not only of humanity, but of the land of our birth." "i feel sure that father would have taken me, had he been here," frank said earnestly. "i believe he would, frank. i know that he shared to the full my father's hatred of the despots who grind italy under their heel; and besides the feeling that animated him, one cannot but cherish the hope that my father may still be found alive in one of those ghastly prisons. of course my mother and i have talked the matter over. we both lament that your studies should be interrupted; but it can be for a few months only, and probably you will be able to return to harrow when the school meets again after the long holiday--so that, in fact, you will only lose three months or so." "that makes no odds one way or another, mother. in any case, i am not likely to be a shining light in the way of learning." "no--i suppose not, frank; and with a fine estate awaiting you, there is no occasion that you should be, though of course you will go through oxford or cambridge. however, we need not think of that now." "and will you be sending him any money, mother?" "certainly. your father put by a certain sum every year in order that he might assist garibaldi when the latter again raised the flag of freedom in italy--a cause which was sacred in his eyes. at the time he left england, this fund amounted to £10,000; and as he never knew when the summons from garibaldi might arrive, he transferred it to my name, so that he need not come back to england, should a rising occur before his return. so you will not go empty-handed." "that will be a splendid gift, mother. i suppose i shall not go back to school before i start?" "no, frank. since you are to go on this expedition, the sooner you start the better. i shall write to your headmaster, and tell him that i am most reluctantly obliged to take you away from school for a few months; but that it is a matter of the greatest importance, and that i hope he will retain your name on the books and permit you to return when you come back to england." "if he won't, mother, it will not matter very much. of course i should like to go back again; but if they won't let me, i shall only have to go to a coach for a year or two." "that is of little consequence," his mother agreed; "and perhaps, after going through such an exciting time, you will not yourself care about returning to school again. you must not look upon this matter as a mere adventure, frank; it is a very, very perilous enterprise, in which your life will be risked daily. were we differently situated, i should not have dreamt of allowing you to go out; but we have identified ourselves with the cause of freedom in italy. your grandfather lost everything--his home, his country, and maybe his life; and your father, living as he did in rome, and married to the daughter of an italian, felt as burning a hatred for the oppression he saw everywhere round him as did the italians themselves; perhaps more so, for being accustomed to the freedom englishmen enjoy, these things appeared to him a good deal more monstrous than they did to those who had been used to them all their lives. he risked death a score of times in the defence of rome; and he finally lost his life while endeavouring to discover whether my father was a prisoner in one of the tyrants' dungeons. thus, although in all other respects an english boy--or italian only through your grandfather--you have been constantly hearing of italy and its wrongs, and on that point feel as keenly and strongly as the son of an italian patriot would do. i consider that it is a holy war in which you are about to take part--a war that, if successful, will open the doors of dungeons in which thousands, among whom may be my father, are lingering out their lives for no other cause than that they dared to think, and will free a noble people who have for centuries been under the yoke of foreigners. therefore, as, if this country were in danger, i should not baulk your desire to enter the army, so now i say to you, join garibaldi; and even should you be taken from me, i shall at least have the consolation of feeling that it was in a noble cause you fell, and that i sent you, knowing that my happiness as well as your life hung upon the issue. i want you to view the matter then, my boy, not in the light of an exciting adventure, but in the spirit in which the crusaders went out to free the holy sepulchre, in which the huguenots of france fought and died for their religion." "i will try to do so, mother," frank said gravely; "at any rate, if the cause was good enough for my father and grandfather to risk their lives for, it is good enough for me. but you know, mother," he went on, in a changed voice, "you can't put an old head on to young shoulders; and though i shall try to regard it as you say, i am afraid that i shan't be able to help enjoying it as a splendid adventure." his mother smiled faintly. "i suppose that is boy nature. at any rate, i am sure that you will do your duty, and there is certainly no occasion for your doing it with a sad face; and bear in mind always, frank, that you are going out not so much to fight, as to search every prison and fortress that may be captured, to question every prisoner whether he has heard or known any one answering the description of your grandfather, or--or----" and her lip quivered, and her voice broke. "or, mother?"--and he stood surprised as mrs. percival burst suddenly into tears, and the signora, rising from her seat, went hastily to her, and put her arm round her neck. it was a minute or two before mrs. percival took her hands from her face, and went on,-"i was going to say, frank, or of your father." frank started, as if he had been suddenly struck. "my father," he repeated, in a low tone. "do you think, mother--do you think it possible? i thought there was no doubt as to how he was killed." "i have never let myself doubt," mrs. percival went on. "whenever the thought has come into my mind during the past two years i have resolutely put it aside. it would have been an agony more than i could bear to think it possible that he could be alive and lingering in a dungeon beyond human aid. never have i spoken on the subject, except to my mother, when she first suggested the possibility; but now that there is a chance of the prison doors being opened, i may let myself not hope--it can hardly be that--but pray that in god's mercy i may yet see him again." and as she again broke down altogether, frank, with a sudden cry, threw himself on his knees beside her, and buried his face in his arms on her lap, his whole figure shaken by deep sobs. mrs. percival was the first to recover her composure, and gently stroked his hair, saying: "you must not permit yourself to hope, my boy; you must shut that out from your mind as i have done, thinking of it only as a vague, a very vague and distant possibility." "but how, mother, could it be?" he asked presently, raising his head. "did we not hear all about his being killed, how beppo saw him shot, and how one of the band testified that he was dead and buried?" "so it seemed to me, frank, when my mother first pointed out to me that all this might be false, and that just as the government of naples declared they were absolutely ignorant as to your grandfather's disappearance when it appeared to us a certainty that it was due to their own act, so they would not hesitate a moment to get rid of your father, whose letters as to the state of their prisons were exciting an intense feeling against them in every free country. she said it would be easy for them to bribe or threaten his servant into telling any tale they thought fit; he or some other agent might have informed the banditti that a rich englishman would be passing along the road at a certain time, and that the government would be ready to pay for his capture and delivery to them. the prisoner taken may have been promised a large sum to repeat the story of the englishman having died and been buried. it was all possible, and though i was determined not to think of him as a prisoner, my mother, who knew more of these things than i did, and how matters like this were managed in italy, thought that it was so. still to my mind there were, and still are, reasons against hope, for surely the neapolitan government would have preferred that the brigands should kill him, rather than that they themselves should have the trouble of keeping him in prison." "possibly they would have preferred that," signora forli said, speaking for the first time. "they knew that he was an englishman, and doubtless learned that he carried loaded pistols, and may have reckoned confidently upon his resisting and being killed, and may have been disappointed because the brigands, hoping for a large ransom, carried him off wounded." "but even then," mrs. percival said, "they could have sent up their agents to the brigands and paid them to finish their work." "yes, possibly that is what they did do; but though i have never spoken to you on the subject since you told me not to, i have thought it over many and many times, and it seems to me that they would scarcely do so, for they might thus put themselves into the power of these bandits. any one of the band might make his way to naples, go to the british legation, and under the promise of a large sum of money and protection denounce the whole plot. it seems to me more likely that they would send an agent to the chief brigand, and pay him a sum of money to deliver the captive up to men who would meet him at a certain place. it is probable that the chief would, on some excuse or other, get rid of all his band but two or three, hand over the prisoner, and share the money only with those with him, and when the others returned, tell them that the prisoner had died and that they had buried him. then the carabinieri would use every effort to kill those who were in the secret, and being in earnest for once, they probably did kill the chief and those with him. "probably the man who gave his evidence was not one of the party at all, but some prisoner charged with a minor offence, who was promised his liberty as the price of telling the story that he was taught. if leonard had been killed and buried, as they stated, his grave must surely have been found--the earth must still have been fresh; and, indeed, nothing is more unlikely than that the brigands should have taken any extraordinary trouble to hide the body, as they could not have anticipated that any vigorous search would be made for it. for these reasons i have all along believed that leonard did not come to his end as was supposed. he may have been killed afterwards by those into whose hands he was delivered; but even this does not seem likely, for one of them might betray the secret for a large reward. he may have died in a dungeon, as so many thousands have done; but i believe firmly that he did not, as reported, die in the brigands' hut. i have never since spoken on the subject to your mother, frank, for i agreed with what she said, that it would be better to think of him as dead than in a dungeon, from which, as was shown in the case of your grandfather, there was no chance of releasing him. now, however, if garibaldi is successful, as every prison will be searched, and every political prisoner freed, there is a prospect that, if he is still alive, he may be restored to us." frank, with the natural hope of youth, at once adopted the signora's view; but his mother, although she admitted that it might possibly be true, still insisted that she would not permit herself to hope. "it may be that god in his mercy will send him back to me; but, though i shall pray night and day that he will do so, it will be almost without hope that my prayer will be granted,--were i to hope, it would be like losing him again if he were not found. now let us talk of other matters. the sooner you start the better, frank; you will not have many preparations to make. the garibaldian outfit is a simple one--a red shirt, trousers of any colour, but generally blue, a pair of gaiters and one of thick, serviceable boots, a wide-awake, or, in fact, any sort of cap with perhaps a red feather, a well-made blanket wound up and strapped over one shoulder like a scarf, a red sash for the waist, a cloak or great-coat strapped up and worn like a knapsack, and a spare shirt and a pair of trousers are all the outfit that you require. you had better take a good rifle with you, and of course a pair of pistols. all the clothes you can buy out there, and also a sword, for no doubt garibaldi will put you on his staff." "in that case i shall not want the rifle, mother." "no; and if you do you can buy one there. in a town like genoa there are sure to be shops where english rifles can be bought, and you might have difficulty in passing one through the customs--luggage is rigorously examined on the frontier and at the ports. a brace of pistols, however, would be natural enough, as any english traveller might take them for protection against brigands if he intended to go at all out of beaten tracks. as to the money, i shall go to the bank on monday, and request them to give me bills on some firm in genoa or turin. garibaldi will find no difficulty in getting them cashed. i should say that your best course will be to go through paris and as far as the railway is made, then on by diligence over mont cenis to turin, and after that by railway to genoa. in that way you will get there in three or four days, whereas it would take you a fortnight by sea." "then it seems to me, mother, that there is nothing at all for me to get before i start, except a brace of pistols; but of course i must have my clothes up from harrow." "i will write for them at once, frank. it would be better that you should not go down--you would find it difficult to answer questions put to you as to why you are leaving; and of course this enterprise of garibaldi must be kept a profound secret. one cannot be too prudent in a case like this, for if a whisper got abroad the italian government would be compelled to stop him." "you will not see beppo here when you come back," mrs. percival said to frank on monday evening. "i gave him notice this afternoon." "what for, mother? anyhow, i am not sorry, for i have never liked him." "i know that you have not, frank, and i begin to think that you were right. my maid said to me this morning that, though she did not like to speak against a fellow-servant, she thought it right to tell me that when i am out of the house and before i get up of a morning he is often in the drawing-room and dining-room, in neither of which he has any business; and that when she went up yesterday evening--you know that she is a very quiet walker--she came upon him standing outside the drawing-room door when we were chatting together, and she thought, though of this she was not quite sure, that he had his ear at the keyhole. he knocked and came in the instant he saw her, as if he had only that moment arrived there; but she had caught sight of him before he saw her, and was certain that he was listening. "of course, she might have been mistaken; but thinking it over, it seems to me that she was probably right, for once or twice since he has been here, it has struck me that the papers in my cabinet were not in precisely the same order as i had left them. you know that i am very methodical about such matters; still, i might each time, when i took them out, have omitted to return them in exactly the same order as before, though i do not think it likely that i could have done so. however, i thought nothing of it at the time; but now that i hear that he has been spying about the rooms and listening at the door, i cannot but connect the two things together, and it may be that the man has been acting as an agent for the neapolitan government. you know, when we were talking the matter over on saturday, my mother suggested that it was possible that the courier had been in league with the brigands. possibly he may also be an agent of the government; and there was so great a stir made at that time that i cannot regard it as impossible, knowing how she and i are heart and soul with the italian patriots, that he was sent over to watch us." "i think it not only possible but probable," signora forli put in. "i know that in italy the police have spies in every household where they suspect the owner of holding liberal opinions; and knowing that our house was frequented by so many exiles, they may have very well placed this man here. i regret now that at the time this man came over at your mother's request, we listened to his plausible tale and took him into our service, but i had not at that time any strong suspicions that the attack on your father was a preconcerted one, and i should hardly have mentioned the idea to your mother had it occurred to me. however, it is of no use thinking over that now; the great point is to consider how it will affect your plan." "in what way, signora?" frank asked in surprise; and mrs. percival added, "i don't see what you mean, mother." "i mean this, dear: if this man is a spy, you may be quite sure that he has had false keys made, by which he can open your cabinet, your drawers, and your writing-desk. it is quite probable that he knows garibaldi's handwriting, for, knowing that the general was a great friend of your father, he would almost certainly be furnished with a specimen of it; and, if that was the case, we may take it for granted that wherever you put any letter from garibaldi, he would get at it and read it. that in itself can do comparatively little harm, for rumours of the general's proposed expedition are already current. but he will know that, immediately on receipt of that letter, you sent for frank. doubtless there are other neapolitan spies over here, and every movement you have made since will, in that case, have been watched, and you will have been seen to go to the bank to-day. it is not likely that they would know how much we have drawn out, for your conversation was with the manager in his private room; but knowing your devotion to garibaldi's cause, they might well suppose that the amount would be a considerable one. we have made no secret of the fact that frank will start the day after to-morrow to travel in italy for a time; and he will guess that frank is the bearer of this money to garibaldi--possibly, as it seems that he listened at the doors, he may even have heard you tell frank how much you were going to send. yesterday evening we were talking over how the bills had best be concealed, and he may have heard that also; if he did, you may be pretty sure that they will never reach garibaldi, unless our plans for their concealment are changed." "you frighten me, mother." "i don't know that there is anything to be frightened about," the signora said. "i do not for a moment suppose that he contemplates any actual attack upon frank; though he will, i am convinced, try to get the money--partly, no doubt, for its own sake, partly because its loss would be a serious blow to garibaldi. after the disappearance of his grandfather, and the commotion there was over the death or disappearance of his father, an attack upon frank would appear to be a sequel of these affairs, and would cause such general indignation that the ministry would take the matter up in earnest, and the result would be far more disastrous for the government of naples than could be caused by any amount of money reaching garibaldi, whom they must regard as an adventurer who could give them some trouble, but who could not hope for success. therefore, i do not think that there is any danger whatever of personal injury to frank; but i do think there is grave fear that the money will be stolen on the way. if our suspicions are well founded as to beppo, no doubt two or three of these agents will travel with him. if he stops to sleep at an hotel, his room would be entered and his coat carried off; he may be chloroformed when in a train and searched from head to foot; his baggage may be stolen on the way, but that would only be the case if they do not find the bills on his person or where we agreed last night to hide them." "i dare not let him go," mrs. percival said, in a trembling voice. "why, mother," frank said almost indignantly, "you don't suppose, now that i am warned, i shall be fool enough to let these fellows get the best of me? i will carry a loaded pistol in each pocket; i will not sleep in an hotel from the time i start till i have handed the bills to garibaldi, and will take care always to get into a carriage with several other passengers. if i hadn't had fair warning, i dare say i should have been robbed; but i have no fear whatever on the subject now that we have a suspicion of what may occur. but if you think it would be safer, i do not see why you could not send the bills by post to an hotel at genoa." signora forli shook her head. "that would not do," she said. "you do not know what these neapolitan spies are capable of. if they find that you have not the money with you, they would follow you to your hotel at genoa, bribe the concierge there to hand over any letter that came addressed to you, or steal it from the rack where it would be placed, while his attention was turned elsewhere. however, i have an old friend at genoa, the countess of mongolfiere; we exchange letters two or three times a year. she is, of course, a patriot. i will, if your mother agrees with me, enclose the bills in an envelope addressed to you, put that in another with a letter saying that you will call at her house when you arrive at genoa, and request her to hand the letter to you. i will say that it vitally concerns the cause, and beg her to place it under lock and key in some safe receptacle until you arrive." "that is an excellent idea, mother," mrs. percival said, "and would seem to meet the difficulty." frank rose from his seat quietly, stepped noiselessly to the door, and suddenly threw it open. to his surprise his mother's maid was sitting in a chair against it, knitting. "it is all right, hannah," he said, as she started to her feet. "i did not know you were there. i thought that fellow might be listening again," and he closed the door. "i asked her to sit there this evening, frank," mrs. percival said. "i knew that we should be talking this matter over, and thought it better to take the precaution to ensure our not being overheard." "quite right, mother; i am glad you did so. then you think that that plan will answer?" "yes, i think so; but you must be sure and take care of yourself, just as if you had the money about you." "that i will, mother; you can rely upon that." "and above all," signora forli said, "you must beware, when you go to the countess for the money, that you take every possible precaution. call in the daytime, go in a carriage and drive straight from her place to the villa spinola; better still, go first to garibaldi, tell him where the money is, and ask him to send three of his officers to your hotel on the following morning. then take a carriage, drive to the countess's, and take it to the general with four of you in the carriage. they would not dare to attack you in broad daylight." "that is an excellent plan," mrs. percival said, in a tone of great relief. "certainly, if they do manage to search him on the way, and find that he has not got the bills upon him, they will watch him closely at genoa, where, no doubt, they will get the assistance of some of francisco's agents. there are sure to be plenty of them in genoa at present; but however many of them there may be, they would not venture to attack in daylight four men driving along what is no doubt a frequented road, more especially as they would know that three of them were garibaldi's men, which is as much as to say desperate fellows, and who would, no doubt, like yourself, be armed with pistols." "we had better take one more precaution," signora forli said. "it is believed that you are going to start on thursday morning. your packing can be done in five minutes; and i think that it would be a good plan for you to have everything ready to-night, and send mary out for a hansom to-morrow morning, so that you could, when it comes up to the door, go straight down, get into it, and drive to the station. i don't say that they might not be prepared for any sudden change of our plans; but at least it would give you a chance of getting a start of them that they can never recover--at any rate, not until you get to paris." "how could they catch me there?" frank said. "francisco's agents here might telegraph to his agents in paris, and they might be on the look-out for you when you arrived, and take the matter up. you were going _viâ_ calais. let me look at the bradshaw." "yes," she said, after examining its pages; "the train for the tidal boat leaves at the same time as the dover train. if, when you get into the cab, you say out loud, 'victoria,' so that beppo may hear it, you can then, when once on your way, tell the cabman to take you to charing cross. in that way, if there is any one on the look-out when the calais train comes in, they will be thrown altogether off the scent." "it seems ridiculous, all these precautions," frank said, with a laugh. "my dear, no precautions are ridiculous when you have francisco's agents to deal with. now, i will write my letter to the countess at once, so that she may get it before your arrival there. you will, of course, go out and post it yourself." chapter v on the way. after posting the letter, frank made several small purchases, and was more than an hour away. on his return he saw a cab standing at the door. as he approached, beppo came out with a portmanteau, handed it up to the driver, jumped in, and was driven off. "so beppo has gone, mother," he said, as he joined her in the drawing-room. "yes. he came in directly you had left. he said that his feelings had been outraged by a servant being placed at the door. he could not say why she was there, but thought it seemed as if he was doubted. he could not but entertain a suspicion that she was placed there to prevent any one listening at the keyhole; after such an insult as that he could not remain any longer in the house. i said that he was at liberty to leave instantly, as his wages had been paid only three days ago. he made no reply, but bowed and left. mary came up and told me ten minutes later that he had brought his portmanteau down, left it in the hall, and gone out, she supposed, to fetch a cab. i heard the vehicle drive up just now, and the front door closed half a minute ago." signora forli came into the room as she was speaking. "mary tells me that beppo has gone. it is a comfort that he is out of the house. when you once begin to suspect a man, the sooner he is away the better. at the same time, frank, there can be no doubt that his going will not increase your chances of reaching genoa without being searched. i should say that he had made up his mind to leave before you did, and he was glad that the fact of mary being at the door gave him a pretext for his sudden departure. in the first place, he could conduct the affair better than any one else could do, as he knows your face and figure so well. then, too, he would naturally wish to get the credit of the matter himself, after being so long engaged in it. of course, you may as well carry out the plan we arranged, to start in the morning; but you may feel absolutely certain that, whatever you may do, you will not throw him off your track. he must know now that he is suspected of being a neapolitan agent, and that you will very likely change your route and your time of starting. "i regard it as certain that the house will be watched night and day, beginning from to-morrow morning, an hour or so before the trains leave. there will be a vehicle with a fast horse close at hand, possibly two, so that one will follow your cab, and the other drive at once to some place where beppo is waiting. as likely as not he will go viâ calais. if you go that way, so much the better; if not, he will only have to post himself at the station at paris. it is likely enough that during the last day or two he has had one or two men hanging about here to watch you going in and out, and so to get to know you well, and will have one at each of the railway stations. he may also have written to the agents in paris to have a look-out kept for you there." "but how could they know me?" "he would describe you closely enough for that; possibly he may have sent them over a photograph." frank got up and went to a side table, on which a framed photograph that had been taken when he was at home at christmas, usually stood. "you are right," he said; "it has gone." then he opened an album. "the one here has gone, too, mother. are there any more of them about?" "there is one in my bedroom; you know where it hangs. it was there this morning." "that has gone, too, mother," he said, when he returned to the room. "so you see, muriel, i was right. the one from the album may have been taken yesterday, and a dozen copies made of it; so that, even if you give them the slip here, frank, you will be recognised as soon as you reach paris." "well, mother, it is of no use bothering any more about it. i have only to travel in carriages with other people, and they cannot molest me; at worst they can but search me, and they will find nothing. they cannot even feel sure that i have anything on me; for now that beppo knows he is suspected of listening at doors, he will consider it possible that we may have changed our plans about where we shall hide the money. it is not as if they wanted to put me out of the way, you know; you and the signora agreed that that is certainly the last thing they would do, because there would be a tremendous row about it, and they would gain no advantage by it; so i should not worry any further, mother. i do not think there is the slightest occasion for uneasiness. i will just go by calais, as i had intended, and by the train i had fixed on; that in itself will shake beppo's belief that i have the money with me, for he would think that if i had it i should naturally try some other way." "at any rate," mrs. percival said, "you shall not go by the line that we had intended. you would be obliged to travel by diligence from dole to geneva, thence to chambery, and again by the same method over the alps to susa. you shall go straight from paris to marseilles; boats go from there every two or three days to genoa." "very well, mother; i don't care which it is. certainly there are far fewer changes by that line; and to make your mind easy, i will promise you that at marseilles, if i have to stop there a night, i will keep my bedroom door locked, and shove something heavy against it; in that way i can't be caught asleep." "well, i shall certainly feel more comfortable, my dear boy, than i should if you were going over the alps. of course, the diligence stops sometimes and the people get out, and there would be many opportunities for your being suddenly seized and gagged and carried off." "they would have to be very sudden about it," frank laughed. "i do think, mother, that you have been building mountains out of molehills. beppo may not be a spy, after all; he may have heard you talking of this ten thousand pounds, and the temptation of trying to get it may be too much for him. he will know now that i shall be on my guard, and that, even if i have the money on my person, his chance of getting it is small indeed. i believe that you and the signora have talked the matter over till you have frightened yourselves, and built up a wonderful story, based only on the fact that mary thought that she caught beppo listening at the door." "how about the photographs?" mrs. percival asked. "possibly he has a hidden affection for me," frank laughed, "and has taken these as mementos of his stay here. well, don't say anything more about it, mother; i am not in the least nervous, and with a brace of loaded pistols in my pocket and the fair warning that i have had, i do not think i need be afraid of two or three of these miserable neapolitan spies." accordingly, frank started by the morning mail, as they had arranged. the carriage was full to dover; and at calais he waited on the platform until he saw an english gentleman with two ladies enter a compartment, and in this he took a vacant corner seat. on his arrival at paris he drove across at once to the terminus of the railway to marseilles, breakfasted there, and sat in the waiting-room reading till the door on to the platform opened, and an official shouted, "passengers for melun, sens, dijon, macon, lyons, and marseilles." there was a general movement among those in the waiting-room. frank found that there was no fear of his being in a compartment by himself, for only one carriage door was opened at a time, and not until the compartment was full was the next unlocked. he waited until he saw his opportunity, and was the first to enter and secure a corner seat. in a short time it filled up. he had slept most of the way between calais and paris, feeling absolutely certain that he would not be interfered with in a carriage with three english fellow-passengers. it was twelve o'clock now, and he would not arrive at marseilles until seven the next morning, and he wondered where all his fellow-passengers, who were packed as closely as possible, were going, for although he did not wish to be alone, it was not a pleasant prospect to be for eighteen hours wedged in so tightly that he could scarcely move. then he wondered whether any of the men who might be following were also in the train. he had quite come to the conclusion that his mother and grandmother had frightened themselves most unnecessarily; but he admitted that this was natural enough, after the losses they had had. at dijon several passengers got out, but others took their places; and so the journey continued throughout the day. the carriage was generally full, though once or twice there were for a time but five besides himself. he read most of the way, for although he spoke italian as fluently as english, he could not converse in french. when tired of reading he had several times dozed off to sleep, though he had determined that he would keep awake all night. at ten o'clock in the evening the train arrived at lyons. here there was a stop of twenty minutes, and he got out and ate a hearty meal, and drank two or three cups of strong coffee. he was not surprised to find, on returning to his carriage, that all the passengers with two exceptions had left it. these had got in at macon, and were evidently men of good circumstances and intimate with each other; he had no suspicions whatever of them, for it was certain that men who had any intention of attacking him would appear as strangers to each other. at vienne both left the carriage. frank was not sorry to see them do so. "if there are really fellows watching me," he said to himself, "the sooner they show themselves and get it over the better; it is a nuisance to keep on expecting something to take place when as likely as not nothing will happen at all." he examined his pistols. they were loaded but not capped, and he now put caps on the nipples, and replaced them in his pocket. just before they had left vienne a man had come to the window as if intending to enter, but after glancing in for a moment had gone to another carriage. [illustration: "his assailant fell back and disappeared"] "that is rather queer," frank thought. "as i am alone here, there was plenty of room for him. perhaps he had made a mistake in the carriage. at any rate, they won't catch me napping." the strong coffee that he had taken at lyons had sharpened his faculties, and he never felt more awake than he did after leaving vienne. he sat with his eyes apparently closed, as if asleep, with a warm rug wrapped round his legs. an hour later he saw a face appear at the opposite window. at first it was but for an instant; a few seconds later it appeared again and watched him steadily; then the man moved along to the door and another joined him. frank without moving cocked the pistol in his right-hand pocket, and took a firm hold of the butt with his finger on the trigger. the door opened noiselessly, and the second man thrust in an arm holding a pistol; so it remained for half a minute. frank was convinced that there was no intention of shooting if it could be avoided, and remained perfectly still; then the arm was withdrawn, and another man, holding a knife in one hand and a roll of something in the other, entered. in a moment frank's right arm flew up and his pistol cracked out: his assailant fell back and disappeared through the open door. frank sprang to his feet as he fired, and stood with his pistol levelled towards the window, where the head of the second man had disappeared as his comrade fell backwards. "he knows i have the best of him now," frank muttered to himself; "i don't think that he will have another try." advancing cautiously, he pulled the door to, lowered the window, and putting a hand out without exposing his head, turned the handle, and then drew up the window again. his foot struck against something as he backed to his seat in the corner. as he still kept his eyes fixed on the window, he paid no attention to this for a minute or two; then he became conscious of a faint odour. "i expect that is chloroform or ether or something of that sort," he said, as he lowered the window next to him; and then, still keeping an eye on the door opposite, moved a step forward and picked up a large handkerchief, steeped in a liquid of some sort or other. he was about to open the window and throw it out, when an idea struck him. "i had better keep it," he said: "there may be a beastly row over the business, and this handkerchief may be useful in confirming my story." he therefore put it up on the rack, lowered the window a few inches, and did the same to the one opposite to it. then wrapping the handkerchief up in two or three newspapers he had bought by the way, to prevent the liquid from evaporating, he sat down in his corner again. he felt confident that the attack would not be renewed, now he was found to be on the watch and armed. it was probable that the two men were alone, and the one remaining would hardly venture single-handed to take any steps whatever against one who was certain to continue to be vigilant. he had no doubt that he had killed the man he fired at, and that, even if the wound had not been instantly fatal, he would have been killed by his fall from the train. "it seems horrid," he muttered, "to have shot a man; but it was just as much his life or mine as it would have been in battle. i hope no one heard the shot fired. i expect that most of the passengers were asleep; and if any one did hear it, he might suppose that a door had come open, or had been opened by a guard, and had been slammed to. of course, the man's body will be found on the line in the morning, and i expect there will be some fuss over it; but i hope we shall all be out of the train and scattered through the town before any inquiries are set on foot. if they traced it to me, i might be kept at marseilles for weeks. of course, i should be all right; but the delay would be a frightful nuisance. there is one thing,--the guard looked at my ticket just before the train started from the last station, and would know that i was alone in the carriage." in a few minutes the speed of the train began to slacken. he knew that the next station was valence. he closed his eyes and listened as the train stopped. as soon as it did so, he heard a voice from the next carriage shouting for the guard. then he heard an animated conversation, of which he was able to gather the import. "the sound of a gun," the guard said. "nonsense; you must have been dreaming!" "i am sure i was not," a voice said indignantly. "it seemed to me as if it was in the next carriage." the guard came to frank's window. "ah, bah!" he said. "there is only one passenger there, an englishman. he was alone when we left vienne, and he is sound asleep now." "perhaps he is dead." it was possible, and therefore the guard opened the door. "are you asleep, monsieur?" frank opened his eyes. "my ticket?" he asked drowsily. "why, i showed it you at vienne." "pardon, monsieur," the guard said. "i am sorry that i disturbed you. it was a mistake," and he closed the door, and said angrily to the man who had called him: "it is as i said. you have been asleep; and i have woke the english gentleman up for nothing." a minute later the train moved on again. "so far so good," frank said. "i should think that i am all right now. we shall be in at seven, and it will not be daylight till half-past six; and as i fancy that we must have been about midway between vienne and vallence when that fellow fell out, it is not likely that his body will be found for some time. they are sure to have chosen some point a good way from any station to get out of their own carriage and come to mine. even when they find him, they are not likely to make out that he has been shot for some time afterwards. i hit him in the body, somewhere near the heart, i fancy; i did not feel sure of hitting him if i fired at his head, for the carriage was shaking about a good deal. it will probably be thought at first that he has either fallen or jumped out of his carriage. i suppose, when he is found, he will be carried to the nearest station, and put in somewhere till a doctor and some functionaries come, and an inquiry is held; and as he probably has been badly cut about the head and face, his death will be put down to that cause at first. indeed, the fact that he was shot may not be found out till they prepare him for burial. i suppose they will take off his clothes then, as they will want to keep them for his identification, if any inquiries should ever be made about him. at any rate, i may hope to have got fairly away from marseilles before the matter is taken up by the police, and even then the evidence of the guard that i was alone will prevent any suspicion falling especially on me." he had no inclination for sleep, and although he felt certain that he would not again be disturbed, he maintained a vigilant watch upon both windows until, a few minutes after the appointed time, the train arrived at marseilles. having only the small portmanteau he carried with him, he was not detained more than two or three minutes there, took a _fiacre_ and drove to the hôtel de marseilles, which his bradshaw told him was close to the steamboat offices. after going upstairs and having a wash, he went down again, carefully locking the door after him and putting the key in his pocket. he then had some coffee and rolls, and while taking these, obtained from the waiter a time-table of the departures of the various steamers from the port, and found, to his great satisfaction, that one of the rubattino vessels would leave for genoa at twelve o'clock. as soon as the steamboat offices were open he engaged a berth, walked about marseilles for an hour, returned at ten to the hotel, took a hearty lunch, and then drove down to the port. on questioning the steward he found that there were not many passengers going, and with a tip of five francs secured a cabin to himself; having done this, he went on deck again and watched the passengers arriving. they were principally italians; but among them he could not recognise the face of the agent who had levelled a pistol at him. both men had, indeed, worn black handkerchiefs tied across their faces below their eyes and covering their chins, and the broad-brimmed hats they wore kept their foreheads and eyes in shadow; and although he watched his fellow-passengers with the faint hope of discovering by some evil expression on his face his last night's assailant, he had no real belief that he should, even under the most favourable circumstances, recognise him again. two or three of the men wore beards, and seemed to belong to the sailor class--probably men who had landed from a french ship, after perhaps a distant voyage, and were now returning home. he saw no more of these, as they at once went forward. there were only eight other passengers in the saloon; seven of these were italians, of whom three were evidently friends. two of the others had, frank gathered from their talk, just returned from brazil; the sixth was an old man, and the seventh a traveller for a firm of silk or velvet manufacturers in genoa. the three friends talked gaily on all sorts of subjects; but nothing that frank gathered, either from their conversation on deck or at dinner, gave any clue as to their occupation. they had evidently met at marseilles for the first time after being separated for a considerable period--one had been in england, one at paris, and one at bordeaux; their ages were from twenty-three to twenty-six. their names were, as he learned from their talk, maffio, sarto, and rubini. before the steamer had left the port half an hour, one of them, seeing that frank was alone, said to him as he passed, in broken english,-"it is warmer and pleasanter here, monsieur, than it is in london." "it is indeed," frank replied, in italian; "it was miserable weather there, when i left the day before yesterday." "_per bacco!_" the young man said, with a laugh, "i took you to be english. allow me to congratulate you on your admirable imitation of----" "i am english, signor--that is, i was born of english parents; but i first saw light in rome, and my grandfather was an italian." this broke the ice, and they chatted together pleasantly. "we are going to genoa. and you?" "i also am going to genoa, and perhaps"--for he had by this time quite come to a conclusion on the subject--"on the same errand as yourselves." the others looked at him in some little surprise, and then glanced at one another. that this young englishman should be going upon such an expedition as that upon which they were bound, seemed to be out of the question. "you mean on pleasure, signor?" one of them said, after a pause. "if excitement is pleasure, which no doubt it is--yes. i am going to visit an old friend of my father's; he is living a little way out of the town at the villa spinola." the others gave a simultaneous exclamation of surprise. "that is enough, signor," the one called rubini said, holding out his hand; "we are comrades. though how a young english gentleman should come to be of our party, i cannot say." the others shook hands as warmly with frank; and he then replied,-"no doubt you are surprised. my father fought side by side with the man i am now going to see, in the siege of rome, so also did my grandfather; and both have since paid by their lives for their love of italy. my name is percival." "the son of the captain percival who was murdered while searching in naples for signor forli?" one of them exclaimed. "the same. so, gentlemen, you can perhaps understand why i am going to the villa spinola, and why, young as i am, i am as eager to take part in this business as you yourselves can be." "yes, indeed; your father's name is honoured among us as one of our general's friends and companions in south america, and as one of his comrades at rome; still more, perhaps, for his fearless exposure of the horrors of the tyrants' dungeons. however, it were best that we should say no more on the subject at present. it is certain that the general's presence at genoa is causing uneasiness both at rome and naples. rumours that he intends to carry out some daring enterprise have appeared in newspapers, and no doubt neapolitan spies are already watching his movements, and it may be there are some on board this ship. our great fear is that victor emmanuel's government may interfere to stop it; but we doubt whether he will venture to do so--public opinion will be too strong for him." "no one can overhear us just at present," frank said. "certainly the neapolitan spies are active. my mother's house is frequented by many leading exiles; and we have reason to believe that it has been watched by a spy for some time past. i know that i have been followed, under the idea, perhaps, that i am carrying important papers or documents from the general's friends there. an attempt was made last night to enter the carriage, in which i was alone, by two men, one of whom was armed with a pistol, and the other had a handkerchief soaked with chloroform. fortunately, i was on my guard, and shot the fellow who was entering with the handkerchief; he fell backwards out of the carriage; i heard nothing more of the other one, and for aught i know he may be on board now." "you did well indeed!" sarto said warmly. "i was in the next carriage to you. i did not hear the sound of your pistol-shot--i was fast asleep; but we were all woke up by a fellow-passenger who declared he heard a gunshot. when we reached valence he called the guard, who said that he must have been dreaming, for there was only a young englishman in the next carriage, and he knew that when it left the last station he was alone. when the train went on we all abused the fellow soundly for waking us with his ridiculous fancies; but it seems that he was right after all. you say there was another. what became of him?" "i saw nothing more of him. he may be on board, for aught i know, for they had black handkerchiefs tied over their faces up to the eyes, and as their hats were pulled well down, i should not know him if i saw him." "well, you have struck the first blow in the war, and i regard it as a good omen; but you must be careful to-night, for if the fellow is on board he is likely to make another attempt; and this time, i should say, he would begin by stabbing you. are you in a cabin by yourself?" "yes." "then one of us will sit up by turns. you must have had a bad night indeed, while we slept without waking, except when i was aroused by that fellow making such a row." "oh, i could not think of that!" "it must be done," rubini said earnestly. "however, i will lay the mattress of the spare bed of your cabin against the door, and lie down on it--that will do just as well. it will be impossible then to open the door; and if any one tries to do so, i shall be on my feet in a moment. i shall sleep just as well like that as in my berth. i have slept in much more uncomfortable places, and am sure to do so again before this business is over." "thank you very much. i will not refuse so kind an offer, for i doubt greatly whether i could keep awake to-night." "now let us say no more about it, for we may be quite sure that the man is still on your track, and there may be other neapolitan agents on board. we cannot be too careful. it may be that old man who was sitting facing us at the table, it may be that little fellow who looks like the agent of a commercial house, and it may be one of the two men who say they come from south america; there is no telling. but at any rate, let us drop the subject altogether. we have said nothing at present that even a spy could lay hold of, beyond the fact that you are going to the villa spinola, which means to garibaldi." they did not go up on deck again after dinner, but sat chatting in the saloon until nine o'clock, when frank said that he could keep his eyes open no longer. after allowing him time to get into his berth, rubini came in, took off his coat and waistcoat, pulled the mattress and bedding from the other bunk, and lay down on it with his head close to the door. "will you take one of my pistols, rubini?" for by this time they called each other simply by their surnames. "no, thank you; if the scoundrel tries to open the door and finds that he cannot do so, you may be sure that he will move off at once. he has been taught that you are handy with your weapons." frank was sleeping soundly when he was woke by rubini's sharp challenge, "who goes there?" it was pitch dark, and he was about to leap from his bunk, when rubini said,-"it is no use getting up. by the time i got this bed away and opened the door, the fellow would be at the other end of the boat. we may as well lie quiet. he is not likely to try again; and, indeed, i should not care about going outside the door, for it is pitch dark, and he might at the present moment be crouching outside in readiness to stab you as you came out. however, he is more likely to be gone now, for directly he heard us talking he would know that his game was up." he struck a match. "it is just two o'clock," he said; "we may as well have four hours' more sleep." in a few minutes frank was sound asleep again, and when he awoke it was daylight. looking at the watch, he found that it was seven o'clock. "seven o'clock, rubini!" he said. the italian sat up and stretched his arms and yawned. "i have had a capital night. however, it is time to get up; we must turn out at once. we can't be far from genoa now; we are due there at eight o'clock, so we shall just have comfortable time for a wash and a cup of coffee before going ashore." frank dressed hastily, and then ran up on deck, where he stood admiring the splendid coast, and the town of genoa climbing up the hill, with its churches, campaniles, and its suburbs embedded in foliage. they were just entering the port when maffio came up to him. "coffee is ready," he said. "you had better come down and take it while it is hot. we shall have the custom-house officers off before we land, so there is no hurry." after making a meal on coffee with an abundance of milk, rolls and butter, frank went up again. he then, at the advice of rubini, drew the charges of his pistols and placed them in his portmanteau. "we must go ashore in a boat," sarto said. "i have just heard the captain say that the wharves are so full that he may not be able to take the vessel alongside for a couple of hours." "are you going anywhere in particular when you land?" frank asked. "we all belong to genoa, and have friends here. why do you ask?" "could you spare me an hour of your time to-day? i should not ask you, but it is rather important." "certainly; we are all at your service," rubini said in some surprise. "at what hour shall we meet you, and where?" "i am going to the hotel europa. any time will suit me, so that it is a couple of hours before dusk. i will tell you what it is when you meet me; it is better not to speak of it here." the young men consulted together. "we will go to our friends," rubini said, "take our things there and spend an hour, and will call upon you, if convenient, at eleven o'clock." "thank you; and you will see, when i have explained my reason for troubling you, that i have not done so wantonly." they landed at the step of the customs. "have you anything to declare?" the official asked frank, after his passport had been examined and stamped. "i have nothing but this small portmanteau, which contains only clothes and a brace of pistols. i suppose one can land with them on payment of duty." "certainly, monsieur; but why should an englishman want them?" "i intend to make a walking tour through italy"--speaking as before in english; "and there are parts of the country where, after dark, i should feel more comfortable for having them in my pockets." "you are strange people, you englishmen," the officer said; "but, after all, you are not far wrong, though it seems to me that it would be wiser to give up what you carry about you than to make a show of resistance which would end in getting your throat cut." he glanced at the pistols, named the amount of duty chargeable; and when this was paid, frank nodded to his companions, who were being much more rigorously examined, took one of the vehicles standing outside the custom-house, and drove to the hotel europa. chapter vi. the villa spinola after taking a room and seeing his portmanteau carried up there, frank went out for an hour and looked at the shops in the principal street; then he returned to the hotel, and stood at the entrance until his three friends arrived. he had again loaded his pistols and placed them in his pocket, and had engaged an open vehicle that was now standing at the door. "let us start at once," he said; "gentlemen, if you will take your places with me, i will explain the matter to you as we drive along." they took their seats. "drive to the strada de livourno," he said to the coachman; "i will tell you the house when we get there. now, my friends," he went on, as the carriage started, "i will explain what may seem singular to you. my mother has sent out a letter which contained, i may say, a considerable sum to be used by the general for the purposes of this expedition. it had been intended that i should bring it; but when we discovered that there was a spy in the house, and that our cabinets had been ransacked and our conversation overheard, it was thought almost certain that an attempt would be made to rob me of the letter on the way. finally, after much discussion, it was agreed to send the letter by post to the care of the countess of mongolfiere, who is an old friend of signora forli, my grandmother; she was convinced that i should be watched from the moment i landed, and advised me not to go to see the countess until i could take three of garibaldi's followers with me, and that after accompanying me to her house, they should drive with me to the villa spinola. now you will understand why i have asked you to give up a portion of your first day to come to aid me." "i think your friends were very right in giving you the advice, percival. after the two attempts that have been made--i will not say to kill you--but to search you and your luggage, it is certain that francisco's agents must have obtained information that you were carrying money, and perhaps documents of importance, and that they would not take their eyes off you until either they had gained their object or discovered that you had handed the parcel over to the general. i have no doubt that they are following you now in some vehicle or other." on arrival at the villa of the countess of mongolfiere, frank sent in his card, and on this being taken in, was at once invited to enter. the countess was a lady of about the same age as signora forli. "i am glad to see you, signor percival," she said. "i have received the letter from madame forli with its enclosure." "i have brought you another note from her, madame la contessa," he said, presenting it, "as a proof of my identity; for the matter is of importance, as you may well suppose, from the manner in which this letter was sent to you, instead of by the post direct to me." "so i supposed, signor. signora forli said that it concerned the good of the cause; and the manner in which she begged me to lock it up at once on my receiving it, was sufficient to show that it either contained money for the cause or secrets that the agents of the foes of freedom would be glad to discover. the mere fact that she gave no particulars convinced me that she considered it best that i should be in the dark, so that, should the letter fall into other hands, i could say truly that i had not expected its arrival, and knew nothing whatever of the matter to which it related." "it contains drafts for a considerable sum of money, signora, for the use of garibaldi. the general, being ignorant of my father's death, had written to him, asking him to join him, and recalling his promise to assist with money. my father, unfortunately, could no longer give personal service, but as he had for years put by a certain portion of his income for this purpose, my mother had it in her power to send this money. it was intended that i should bring it; but we found that all our doings were watched, and that, therefore, there was considerable danger of my being followed and robbed upon the way; and signora forli then suggested that she should send it direct to you, as possibly a letter addressed to me here might fall into the hands of the neapolitan agents." "it was a very good plan," the countess said. "and have you been molested on the way?" "attempts have been made on two occasions--once in the train on my way to marseilles, and once on board the steamer coming here." "you must be careful even now, signor. if you are watched as closely as it would seem, you may be robbed before you can hand this letter over to the general. there is nothing at which these men will hesitate in order to carry out their instructions. you might be arrested in the streets by two or three men disguised as policemen, and carried away and confined in some lonely place; you might be accused of a theft and given in charge on some trumped-up accusation, in order that your luggage and every article belonging to you might be thoroughly searched, before you could prove your entire innocence. i can quite understand that, when you first started, the object was simply to search for any papers you might be carrying, and if this could be done without violence it would be so effected, although, if murder was necessary, they would not have hesitated at it; and even now, guessing as they will that you have come here, directly you have landed, to obtain some important document, they would, if they could find an opportunity, do anything to obtain it, before you can deliver it to garibaldi." "i quite feel that, signora, and have three young garibaldian officers waiting in a carriage below for me, and they will drive with me to the villa spinola." "that will make you perfectly safe," and she then rose from her seat, opened a secret drawer in an antique cabinet, and handed him the letter. "now, signor percival," she said, "this has been a visit of business, but i hope that when you have this charge off your mind you will, as the grandson of my old friend signora forli, come often to see me while you are here. i am always at home in the evening, and it will be a great pleasure to me to hear more of her than she tells me in her letters." thanking the countess for her invitation, and saying that he should certainly avail himself of it, he went down and again took his place in the carriage. "have you found all as you wished?" sarto asked. "yes; i have the letter in my pocket." "that is good news. knowing what these secret agents are able to accomplish, i did not feel at all sure that they might not in some way have learned how the money was to be sent, and have managed to intercept the letter." having given instructions to the driver where to go, they chatted as they drove along of the proposed expedition. "none of us know yet," rubini said, "whether it is against the papal states or naples. we all received the telegram we had for some time been hoping for, with the simple word 'come.' however, it matters not a bit to us whether we first free the pope's dominions or francisco's." "will you go in with me to see garibaldi?" "no; we have already received orders that, until we are called upon, it is best that we should remain quietly with our families. were a large number of persons to pay visits to him, the authorities would know that the time was close at hand when he intended to start on an expedition of some kind. the mere fact that we have come here to stay for a time with our friends is natural enough; but we may be sure that everything that passes at the villa is closely watched. it is known, i have no doubt, that an expedition is intended, and cavour may wait to prevent it from starting, until the last moment; therefore i should say that it is important that no one should know on what date garibaldi intends to sail until the hour actually arrives. how we are to get ships to carry us, how many are going, and how we are to obtain arms, are matters that don't concern us. we are quite content to wait until word comes to us, 'be at such a place, at such an hour.'" "i would give something to know which among the men we are passing are those who have been on your track," sarto remarked. "it would be such a satisfaction to laugh in their faces and to shout, 'have you had a pleasant journey?' or, 'we congratulate you,' or something of that sort." "they feel sore enough without that," maffio said. "they are unscrupulous villains; but to do them justice, they are shrewd ones, and work their hardest for their employers, and it is not very often that they fail; and you have a right to congratulate yourself that for once they have been foiled. it is certainly a feather in your cap, percival, that you and your friends have succeeded in outwitting them." they had now left the city and were driving along the coast road towards the villa spinola. there were only a few people on the road. "you see, it is well that we came in force," sarto remarked; "for had you been alone, the carriage might very well have been stopped, and yourself seized and carried off, without there being any one to notice the affair. i have no doubt that even now there is a party somewhere behind a wall or a hedge, in waiting for you; they would probably be sent here as soon as you landed, and would not be recalled, as, until you left the house of the countess, all hope that you would drive along this road alone would not be at an end." "we shall call and see you this evening, and we all hope that you will use our homes as your own while you are staying here," rubini said. "we can introduce you to numbers of our friends, all of our way of thinking, and will do our best to make your stay at genoa as pleasant as possible. it may be some time before all is ready for a start, and until that is the case you will have nothing to do, and certainly garibaldi will not want visitors." "i shall be pleased indeed to avail myself of your kindness," frank said. "it will be a great pleasure to me to see something of italian society, and i should find time hang very heavy on my hands at the hotel, where there are, i know, very few visitors staying at present." "that is the villa," rubini said, pointing to a large house surrounded by a high wall. "will you take my vehicle back?" "no; we shall walk. i should advise you to keep the carriage, however long you may stay here. these fellows will be very sore at finding they have failed, after all the trouble they have taken in the matter. i don't say that they will be watching for you; but if they should come across you in a lonely spot, i think it is very probable that they would not hesitate to get even with you with the stab of a knife between your shoulders." alighting, frank rang at the bell. his friends stood chatting with him until a man, after looking through a grill in the gate, came out; and then, feeling that their mission was safely accomplished, they started for their walk back in high spirits. "i do not know whether the general is in at present, signor," the man said, as frank was about to enter. "may i ask your business?" "if you will take this card to him, i am sure that he will see me." in three minutes the gates were opened. frank entered on foot, and would have left the carriage outside; but the porter said,-"it had better come in, signor; carriages standing at a gate attract attention." garibaldi was seated in a room with two men, who were, as frank afterwards learned, bixio and crispi. garibaldi had risen from his seat and was looking inquiringly at the door as the lad entered. "welcome, signor percival! you have come, doubtless, on the part of my dear friend your father. has he not come with you? i trust that he is but delayed." "i come on the part of my mother, general," frank replied. "i lost my father more than a year ago." "and i had not heard of it!" the general exclaimed. "alas! alas! for my friend and comrade; this is indeed a heavy blow to me. i looked forward so much to seeing him. oh, how many friends have i lost in the past two years! and so your mother has sent you to me?" "she bade me give you this letter, general." the letter was not a long one. mrs. percival briefly told how her husband had set out to endeavour to find where professor forli was imprisoned, how he had been attacked and killed by brigands, and how she, knowing what her husband's wishes would have been, had sent her son. "he is young," she said, "but not so young as many of those who have fought under you. he is as eager and enthusiastic in the cause of italian liberty as was his father, having, as you may well suppose, learned the tale from my husband and myself, and my father and mother. as you will see, he speaks italian as well as english, and i pray you, for the sake of my husband, to take him on your staff; or, if that cannot be, he will shoulder a musket and march with you. he does not come empty-handed. my husband has for years laid by a certain amount to be used in the good cause when the time came. he will tell you where it is to be obtained, and how. i wish you success with all my heart, and if the prayers of two widowed women will avail aught, you will have them daily. it is my only son i give you, and a widow cannot give more. the money is from my husband; the boy is from me." garibaldi's eyes filled with tears as he read the letter. "your mother is a noble woman indeed! how could she be otherwise, as the daughter of forli and the wife of my brave comrade? surely you will be most welcome to me, young man--welcome if you came only as your mother's gift to italy." frank opened the envelope, which was directed to himself, and took out five slips of thin paper. "these are bills, general," he said, handing them to him. "they are drawn upon a bank at genoa, and are each for two thousand pounds." "francs, you must mean, surely?" garibaldi said. "no, general; they are english pounds." exclamations of surprise and gratification broke from garibaldi and his two companions. "this is a royal gift!" the former cried. "my brave comrade is not here to help us; but he has sent us a wonderful proof of his love for the cause. it is noble!--it is superb! this will indeed be aid to us," he went on, holding out his two hands to frank. "we are strong in men, we are strong in brave hearts, but money is scarce with us, though many have given all that they possess. i know, lad, how you english object to be embraced,--were it not for that, i would take you to my heart; but a hand-clasp will say as much." the two officers were almost as much excited as garibaldi himself, for this gift would remove one of the obstacles that lay in their way. by means of a subscription contributed in small amounts by patriots all over italy for the purchase of arms, twelve thousand good muskets had been bought and stored at milan, together with ammunition. when, a few days before frank's arrival, crispi, with some other of garibaldi's officers, had gone to fetch them, they found that cavour had placed a guard of royal troops over the magazine, with orders that nothing whatever was to be taken out. heavy though the blow had been, the garibaldian agents were already at work buying arms, but with no hope of collecting more than sufficient for the comparatively small force that would sail for sicily. even this addition of funds would not avail to supply that deficiency, as it was very difficult for the general's agents, closely watched as they now were, to purchase military weapons. for some time the conversation turned entirely upon the steps to be taken, now that the war-chest had been so unexpectedly replenished. then garibaldi put aside the papers on which he had been taking notes, and said,-"enough for the time, signor percival. i shall, of course, write myself to your good mother, expressing my heartfelt thanks, and telling her that if success attends us, she can be happy in the knowledge that it will be largely due to her. you will, naturally, yourself write home and tell her what joy her gift occasioned, how much it added to our hopes and relieved us of our difficulties. tell her that i have appointed you as a lieutenant on my staff, and that i shall trust you as i trusted your noble father." "i thank you greatly, general; i hope to prove myself worthy of your confidence." "and now, sir, will you advise me as to your own movements?" "i have put up at the hotel europa." "at present it will be best for you to stay there. we are anxious that there should be no appearance of any gathering here, and my friends will not assemble until all the preparations are completed. how did you come over here?" "i drove, general; the carriage is waiting for me." "then it must wait for awhile; or, better still, it can carry my two friends here to the town, where they have much to do. in future it will be best for you to walk over; 'tis but a short distance, and i know that you english are good walkers. of course, the authorities know that i am here; there is no concealment about that. as long as they do not see any signs of preparations for a movement, they will leave me alone. as probably your prolonged stay at the hotel may excite curiosity, it is well that you should visit the galleries and palaces, and take excursions in the neighbourhood. it may be as well, too, that you should mention casually at the _table-d'hôte_ that you know me, as your father was a great friend of mine when we were together in south america, which will account for your paying visits here frequently. we know that we are being closely looked after by government spies, and must therefore omit no precaution. now i wish you to take lunch with me, as i have many questions to ask you. i had heard, of course, of signor forli being missing, and of the correspondence between your government and that of naples on the subject." frank went out and told the driver that he should not be returning for some time, but that two gentlemen would go back in the carriage in a few minutes. "as i took the carriage from the hotel, the hire will, of course, be charged in my bill; but here are a couple of francs for yourself." in two or three minutes the italian officers came out, and thanking frank for the accommodation, drove away, while the lad himself re-entered the villa. "the meal is ready," garibaldi said, when he entered the room where he had left him. "it is very pleasant to me to turn my thoughts for once from the subject of my expedition." the meal was a very simple one, though the general had ordered one or two extra dishes in honour of his guest. "now," he said, when they had sat down, and the servant had retired, "tell me first of all about the loss of my dear friend." frank related the story of his father going out to search for signor forli, and how he had been captured and killed by brigands. as the general listened, his kindly face grew stern and hard, but he did not speak until frank brought the tale to an end. "_cospetto!_" he exclaimed, "he may have been killed by brigands, but i doubt not the neapolitan government were at the bottom of it. i would wager any money that they hired the men of the mountains to disembarrass them of one who was exposing the horrible secrets of their prisons. and you say that his body could not be found. was the search made for it simply by the carabinieri?" "it was made by them, sir, but the secretary of our legation accompanied them, and wrote that, although he had himself searched everywhere in the neighbourhood of the hut, he could find no traces whatever of a newly made grave. i may say that signora forli still believes that my father was not killed, but was, like her husband, carried off to some dungeon." "it is possible," the general said, "though i would not encourage you to hope; the ways of these people are so dark that there is no fathoming them. since his grave could not be found, i regard it as certain that he was not buried there, for his captors would not have troubled to carry his body far, but would have dug a hole close by and thrown the earth over the body; and in that case, when the band returned, one or the other of the men who did the work would most likely have carelessly pointed to the spot, and said, 'there lies the englishman.' but though i believe that he did not die there, he might have died elsewhere. his wounds were evidently very severe, and they may have proved fatal after he was carried off by those who took him away from the brigands; if they were not fatal, he may have been murdered afterwards." "signora forli thought, general, that it was more probable that he had been taken to one of the prisons, and that, just as they hunted down the brigands in order that none of these should have power to betray them, so they might have preferred putting him in prison to having him murdered, because in the latter case the men employed might go to the british legation and accept a large sum for betraying the secret." "it may have been so," the general said; "and if we succeed, perhaps you will find both your father and grandfather. but do not cherish false hopes. even if both were once in the neapolitan dungeons, they may before this have succumbed to their treatment there. you have mourned them as dead; do not buoy yourself up with hope, for if you did so, the chances are all in favour of your suffering a terrible disappointment." "that is just what my mother impressed upon me, general. she said that from the first she had never allowed herself to think of my father as in prison; and it was not until she received your letter, and thought that at last there was really a chance that the inmost cells of all the prisons would be opened, she would admit a possibility of my father still being alive." "at least, she and you will have the consolation that if you do not find those dear to you, you will have aided in restoring fathers and husbands to hundreds of other grieving wives, mothers, and children." "may i ask how large a force you are likely to take over with you, general?" "if the government had remained neutral and not interfered with me, we could have found men for the twelve thousand muskets they have seized; as it is, we have been obliged to write letters to all parts of italy, stopping the volunteers who were preparing to join us. some of these letters will doubtless fall into the hands of the authorities, and we have therefore so worded them that it may be supposed that the expedition has been altogether given up. a thousand men is the utmost that we can hope to embark secretly. these will be all picked men and gallant fellows who fought under me in the alps, or men who have, like myself, been for years living as exiles. these thousand i have chosen, every one; they will die fighting, and will never turn their back to an enemy. would that i had them all safely landed in sicily, and had surmounted all the difficulties and dangers that are caused by the hostility of the government, which will, however, be glad enough to take advantage of our work." "my mother thought that you would probably form the neapolitan states, if you conquered them, into a republic." "that was my dream when i was fighting at rome but i see now that it is impossible. i am for a republic on principle, but i must take what i can get. i cannot conceal from myself that my experience of mazzini and other enthusiasts is that they are not practical, they commit terrible blunders, and the matter ends in a dictatorship, as has twice been the case in france. mazzini would sacrifice the practical to gain his ideal. i care nothing for theory--i want to see italy free; and this can only be done under victor emmanuel. he is popular and energetic. his father suffered for his devotion to the cause of freedom. the son is a stronger man; but at present he is forced by cavour and the other temporisers who surround him to curb his own impetuosity. "i don't like cavour--he gave up my birthplace, nice, to france; but, at the same time, i respect his great ability, and am sure that as soon as he feels the opportunity has come, he will grasp it, and the king will not hesitate to accept the possessions that i hope to gain for him. with victor emmanuel king of northern and southern italy, the rest is simple. then italy can afford to wait its opportunity for driving the austrians from venezia, and becoming, for the first time since the days of the romans, a united kingdom. when i hoist my banner in sicily, it will be as a soldier of victor emmanuel, king of italy." frank was pleased to hear this. his father, though an advanced liberal in matters connected with italy, was a strong conservative at home; and frank had naturally imbibed his ideas, which were that the people of a constitutional monarchy, like that under which he lived, were in every respect freer and better governed than under any republic, still more so than they could be under a republic constituted according to the theories of mazzini or those of the authors of the first and second french revolutions. "by the way, you must have found it a terrible responsibility carrying so much money with you." "i did not carry it, general. the bills were, with the letter to you, sent by post to the care of the countess of mongolfiere, who was a friend of signora forli." "that was hazardous, too," the general said, shaking his head. "to trust ten thousand pounds to the post was a terrible risk." "it was the best way that we could think of, general. the courier who was with my father when he was killed came over to see my mother at her request, as she wished to hear every detail about my father's last days. he professed a great fear of returning to italy, as, having given evidence against the brigands, he would be a marked man." "there is no doubt that is so," garibaldi put in. "his life would not have been worth a day's purchase. these scoundrels have their agents in every town, men who keep them informed as to persons travelling, whom it would be worth while to capture, and of any movements of the carabinieri in their direction." "my mother, therefore, took him into her service," frank went on; "but two days before i started, she discovered that he had been acting as a spy, had been opening her desk, examining her letters, and listening at the door. she and signora forli had no doubt whatever that he had made himself acquainted with the contents of your letter, and believed that i was going to carry this money to you." "the villains!" garibaldi exclaimed, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table: "it is just what they would do. i know that many of my friends enjoyed your father's hospitality; and no doubt it would be a marked house, and the secret police of francisco would keep an eye over what was being done there, and would, if possible, get one of their agents into it. this man, who had no doubt acted as a spy over your father when he was in italy, would be naturally chosen for the work; and his story and pretence of fear served admirably to get him installed there. if he had learned that you were about to start to bring me ten thousand pounds, and perhaps papers of importance, it would have been nothing short of a miracle had you arrived safely with them." "that was what signora forli and my mother thought, sir. they were afraid to send the letter directed to me at the hotel where i was to stop, as the man would doubtless telegraph to agents out at genoa, and they would get possession of it; so instead of doing so, they enclosed it in a letter to the countess. i posted it myself, and there was therefore no chance of the letter being lost, except by pure accident." "but if the spy did not know that you had sent the letter off by post, it would render your journey no less hazardous than if you had taken it with you." "my mother and the signora were both convinced that an attempt would be made to search me and my baggage on the way, but they did not think that they would try to take my life; for after what had happened to my grandfather and father, there would be no question that my murder was the work of neapolitan agents, and a storm of indignation would thus be caused." garibaldi nodded. "no doubt they were right, and if the scoundrels could have got possession of what you carried without injury to you they would have done so. but they would have stuck at nothing in order to carry out their object; and had you caught them while they were engaged in searching your clothes or baggage, they would not have hesitated to use their knives. i cannot now understand how you have come through without their having meddled with you. it might have been done when you were asleep in an hotel, or they might have drugged you in a railway carriage, or in your cabin on board the steamer coming here. the secret police of naples is the only well-organised department in the kingdom. they have agents in london, paris, and other cities, and from the moment you left your mother's house you must have been watched. are you sure that, although you may not know it, you have not been searched?" "i am quite sure, sir. we were so certain i should be watched that i made no attempt to get off secretly, but started by the train i had intended to travel by. i did not stop a night at an hotel all the way, and made a point of getting into railway carriages that contained other passengers. it happened, however, that at vienne the last of those with me alighted. it was one o'clock in the morning when we left the station, and i felt sure that if an attempt was made, it would be before we stopped, especially as a man looked into the carriage just before we were starting, and then went away. i had a loaded pistol in each pocket and a rug over me, and i sat in the corner pretending to be asleep. an hour later a man came and looked in; another joined him. the door was partly opened, and an arm with an extended pistol pointed at me, but i felt perfectly sure that he had no intention of firing unless i woke. "half a minute later his comrade entered the carriage. he had an open knife in one hand, and a cloth in the other; but as he came in i shot him; he fell back through the carriage door. whether in doing so he knocked his comrade down or not, i cannot say; but, at any rate, i saw no more of him. the man whom i shot had dropped what he held in his hand on to the floor. it was as i had expected--a handkerchief, soaked with chloroform. it was seven when i arrived at marseilles. fortunately, a steamer left at twelve. when i went on board i made the acquaintance of three young men, who were, i guessed, on the same errand as myself; their names were rubini, sarto, and maffio. we soon became very friendly, and i found that my conjectures were correct. this being so, i told them what had happened; and as there was no one besides myself in my cabin, rubini most kindly laid a mattress across the door and slept there. as i had not had a wink of sleep the night before, and only dozed a little the one before that, i should have had great difficulty in keeping awake. in the course of the night some one did attempt to open the door; but he was unable to do so on account of the mattress placed there, and we heard no more of him. i asked these gentlemen to come to the hotel europa at eleven, for i was really afraid to come along the road here by myself. they drove with me to the house of the countess, and then here, so that i was well guarded." "i know them all well," garibaldi said. "rubini is a lieutenant in the genoese company of my cacciatori; the others are in his company. you have done well indeed, my friend; it needed courage to start on such a journey, knowing that francisco's police were on your track. you have a right to feel proud that your vigilance and quickness defeated their attempt. it is well that you met rubini and his friends; for as the spies would know directly you entered the palazzo of the countess that you had gone there for some special purpose, probably to obtain documents sent to her, i doubt whether you would have been able to come safely alone, even if the road had been fairly well thronged." "i should not have gone to the countess's unless i had an escort, general. my intention was to come to you in the first place, and ask that three of your officers might accompany me to get the letter; but, of course, after having found friends who would act as my escort, there was no occasion to do so. i suppose there is no fear of my being further annoyed?" "i should think not," garibaldi said; "now they know that your mission has been carried out, you will cease to be of interest to them. but at the same time, it would be well to be cautious. if the fellow you shot was the leader of those charged to prevent the supplies and letter coming to me, we may consider that there is an end of the affair. his death will give a step to some one, and they will owe you no ill will. if, however, the other man was the chief of the party, he would doubtless owe you a grudge. he is sure to be blamed for having been thus baffled by a lad; whereas had he succeeded, he would have received the approval of his superiors. i think, therefore, if i were you, i should abstain from going out after nightfall, unless with a companion, or if you do so, keep in the great thoroughfares and avoid quiet streets. that habit of carrying a loaded pistol in your pocket has proved a valuable one, and i should advise you to continue it so long as you are here. if you see rubini, tell him that i thank him for the aid he and his friends rendered you. he and the others have all been instructed not to come here until they receive a communication that the time for action has arrived. my followers send me their addresses as soon as they reach genoa, so that i can summon them when they are needed. it would never do for numbers of men to present themselves here. the authorities know perfectly well that i am intending to make an expedition to sicily; but as long as they see no signs of activity, and their spies tell them that only some half-dozen of my friends frequent this villa, they may be content to abstain from interference with me; indeed, i do not think that in any case they would venture to prevent my sailing, unless they receive urgent remonstrances from austria or france. were such remonstrances made, they would now be able to reply that, so far as they can learn, i am remaining here quietly, and am only visited by a few private friends." chapter vii. the expedition sails. frank spent a pleasant three weeks in genoa. the three young men did all in their power to make the time pass agreeably to him: they introduced him to their families and friends; one or the other of them always accompanied him to the theatre or opera, or, as much more frequently happened, to gatherings at their own houses or at those of acquaintances. many of these were, like themselves, members of the genoese corps; and both as a relative of two men who had sacrificed their lives in the cause of freedom, and especially for the aid that his mother had sent to garibaldi to enable him to carry out his plans, he was everywhere most warmly received. he himself had not told, even his three friends, the amount that his mother had contributed; but garibaldi's companions had mentioned it to others, and it soon became known to all interested in the expedition. twice a week frank drove out to quarto. matters had been steadily progressing. a thousand rifles, but of a very inferior kind, had been obtained from farini, and a few hundred of a better class had been bought. these latter were for the use of garibaldi's own band, while the others would be distributed among such sicilians as might join him on his landing. these would for the most part come armed, as large numbers of guns and stores of ammunition had been accumulated in the island for use in the futile insurrection a few months previously. on may 5th all was ready. frank paid his hotel bill, left his trunk to be placed in the store-room until he should send or return for it, and with a bundle, in which his sword was wrapped up in his blanket, cloak, and a light waterproof sheet, and with a bag containing his red shirts and other small belongings, together with his pistols and a good supply of ammunition, drove to the villa spinola. on the previous day he had sent on there a saddle and bridle, valise and holsters. the horses were to be bought in sicily. outside all seemed as quiet as usual, but once within the gates there was a great change. a score of gentlemen were strolling in little groups in the garden, talking excitedly; these were almost all new arrivals, and consequently unknown to frank, who passed on into the house where garibaldi, the officers of his staff, and other principal officers were engaged in discussing the final arrangements. most of the staff were known to him, as they had been there for some days. he joined three or four of the younger men, who were sitting smoking in a room on the ground floor while the council was being held. "so at last the day has arrived, lieutenant," one of them said. "i think everything augurs well for us. i am convinced that the government do not mean to interfere with us, but are adopting the policy of shutting their eyes. of course, they will disavow us, but they will not dare to stop us. they must know what is going on; there are too many people in the secret for it not to have leaked out. i don't know whether you noticed it, but i could see, when i was in the city this morning, that there was a general excitement; people met and talked earnestly; every stranger, and there are a good many there to-day, is watched eagerly. you see, there is no ship of war in the port, which there certainly would have been, had they intended to stop us." "i shall be very glad when we are well at sea," frank said, "though i agree with you that it is not likely we shall be interfered with." they chatted for upwards of an hour, and the council broke up. a list was handed round, appointing the boats to which the various officers were told off; and frank found that he was to go in the third that left the shore, together with orsini, commander of the second company, and turr, the first _aide-de-camp_ of the general. the hours passed slowly. no regular meals were served, but food was placed on a long table, and each could go in and take refreshments as he pleased. the new-comers, and indeed all the officers, with the exception of two or three of garibaldi's most trusted friends, were still in ignorance as to how they were to obtain vessels to take them to messina, and frank, who was behind the scenes, listened with some amusement to the wild conjectures that they hazarded. he knew that the matter had been privately arranged with the owners of the rubattino line of steamers that the _lombardo_ and _piemonte_, both of which were in the harbour, should be seized by the garibaldians. they were warm adherents of the national cause, but could not, of course, appear openly in the matter. they had already been paid the sum agreed on for any damage or injury that might happen to the vessels; while openly they would be able to protest loudly against the seizure of their ships, and, like the government, profess entire ignorance of what was going on. only a few hands would be left on board. these were to offer a feigned resistance, but were to make no noise. among garibaldi's followers were several engineers, who were to take command of and assist in the engine-rooms. in order to save time, the _lombardo_, which was much the larger of the two vessels, was to take the _piemonte_ in tow. there was still, however, some anxiety on the part of the leaders lest, at the last moment, the government should intervene, seize the arms, and take possession of the steamers. the seizure of the great magazine of arms at milan showed that cavour was in earnest in his endeavour to put a stop to an expedition of whose success he had not the slightest hope; but whether he would risk the ferment that would be excited, were garibaldi and his followers to be seized at the moment of starting, was doubtful. this was a question that had been discussed time after time by garibaldi and his friends. that the minister was well informed as to all the preparations, the purchase of fresh arms, and the arrival of so many men at genoa, was certain; but he could not know the exact hour at which the expedition was to start, nor even be sure that it might not march down the coast, and take ship at some other port than genoa. ignorant as were the great bulk of those gathered at the villa spinola of garibaldi's plans, they knew that the movement was to begin that night, and there was a general feeling of restlessness and excitement as evening approached. from time to time messengers brought news from the city. all was well; there was no unusual stir among the troops. the police went about their usual duties unconcernedly, and apparently without noticing the suppressed excitement of the population. at nightfall the word was passed round that all were to lie down as they could, as there would be no movement until one o'clock. the order was obeyed, but there was little sleep. it was known that bixio and some other officers had already left the villa; and a whisper had run round that they were going to seize some ships, and that the embarkation would take place before morning. at one o'clock all were in motion again. the servants of the villa brought round bowls of coffee and milk, and as soon as these were drunk and some bread hastily eaten, all made ready for a start. frank had that evening donned his uniform for the first time, and had been at work, with two other members of the staff, serving out rifles and ammunition, from an outhouse which had been converted into a magazine; the men coming in a steady stream through a back entrance into the garden, and passing again with their arms through another door. another party were at work carrying down boxes of ammunition and barrels of flour and other provisions to the shore. at one o'clock the whole force were gathered there. it was an impressive sight, and frank for the first time fully realised the singularity and danger of the expedition in which he was to share. here were a thousand men, all of whom had fought again and again under garibaldi in the cause of italian liberty. they were about to start, against the wishes of the government of their country, to invade a kingdom possessed of strong fortresses and an army of one hundred and twenty-eight thousand regular troops. success seemed altogether impossible. but frank had deeply imbibed the conviction of his mother and signora forli that the people at large would flock to the standard. he had been carried away with the enthusiasm of the general and those about him, and even the darkness of the night, the mystery of the quiet armed figures and of the boats hauled up in readiness for the embarkation, did not damp the suppressed excitement that made every nerve tingle, and rendered it difficult to remain outwardly impassive. the men talked together in low tones. here were many who had not met since they had parted after the events that had laid another stone to the edifice of italian unity, by the addition of tuscany, parma, and modena to the kingdom of sardinia. the greater part of them were lombards and genoese, but there were many from turin and other cities of piedmont. some were exiles, who had received a summons similar to that sent by garibaldi to captain percival. the greetings of all these men, who had been comrades in many dashing adventures, were warm and earnest, though expressed in but few low words. hour after hour passed, and expectation grew into anxiety. all knew now that bixio had gone to seize two steamers, and that they should have been in the roadstead at two o'clock; but at four there were still no signs of them, and the fear that he had failed, that the government had at the last moment intervened, grew stronger. it was not until dawn was beginning to break that the two steamers were made out approaching, and anxiety gave place to delight. steadily and in good order the men took their places, under the direction of the officers assigned to each boat, and by the time the steamers arrived as near as they could venture to the shore, the boats were alongside with their crews. the embarkation was quickly effected. it was found that there had been no dangerous hitch in the arrangements, the delay having been caused by the difficulty bixio had had in finding the two steamers, which were anchored in the extensive roadstead of genoa among many other ships. the stores were hastily transferred from the boats to the steamers, and these at once started for the spot where two boats, laden with ammunition, percussion caps, and rifles, should have been lying off the coast. either through misunderstanding of orders or the interference of the authorities, the two boats were not at the rendezvous; and after cruising about for some hours in every direction, garibaldi decided that no further time could be lost, for at any moment government vessels might start in pursuit. accordingly the steamers' heads were turned to the south, and the expedition fairly began. delighted as all on board the _lombardo_ and _piemonte_ were to have escaped without government interference, the loss of the ammunition was a very serious blow. they had brought with them from the villa spinola scarcely sufficient for a couple of hours' fighting for those on board. they had neither a reserve for themselves, nor any to hand over with the guns to those they expected to join them on landing. it was, therefore, absolutely necessary to touch at some port to obtain ammunition, and garibaldi chose talamone, at the southern extremity of tuscany, within a few miles of the boundary of the papal states. they arrived there early the next morning, and garibaldi at once went ashore and desired the governor of the fort, in the name of the king, to hand over to him supplies of ammunition and some guns. whatever doubts the governor may have had as to garibaldi's authority, he and the governor of the much larger neighbouring town of orbetello rendered him all the assistance in their power, and gave him a considerable amount of ammunition and several guns. the vessels filled up with coal, and the inhabitants welcomed the expedition with enthusiasm. for this conduct the governor of talamone afterwards received a severe reprimand from the government, who were obliged to clear themselves of any participation whatever in the expedition, and had, a few hours after garibaldi left genoa, despatched a fast screw frigate, the _maria_, under the orders of admiral persano in pursuit. his official orders were to capture and bring back the steamers and all on board; but there can be little doubt that he received secret instructions in a contrary sense. at any rate, the frigate, after a prolonged cruise, returned to genoa without having come within sight of the expedition. before leaving talamone, garibaldi accepted an offer of one of his followers to undertake, with sixty men, to effect a diversion by raising the population in the north of the papal states. the expedition seemed a hopeless one with so small a force; and it would seem that garibaldi assented to it in order to rid himself from some whose impetuosity and violent disposition might have led to trouble later. as was to be expected, the little party failed entirely in their object, and were defeated and captured very shortly after crossing the frontier. all were glad on board the two ships, when they were again under steam, and heading for their goal. as by this time it was certain that the news of their departure from genoa would have been telegraphed to naples, and that the ships of war of that country would be on the look-out to intercept them, it was decided, at a council of war held by garibaldi, that instead of landing near messina, they should make for the little island of maregigimo, lying off the north-west corner of sicily, as by this route they would be likely to escape the vigilance of the neapolitan ships-of-war, which would be watching for them along the coast from the straits of messina to palermo. arriving at maregigimo late on the evening of the 10th, and learning from the islanders that the coast of sicily was everywhere patrolled, they decided to take the bold step of sailing into the harbour of marsala. as a large mercantile port, this offered several advantages. the true character of the vessels would not be suspected until they arrived there, and hostile ships cruising near might take them for ordinary merchantmen. there was also the advantage that, being only some seventy miles from cape bona, in africa, it afforded a better chance of escape, should they meet with misfortune after landing, and be obliged to re-embark. as they neared the coast they made out several sailing vessels and steamers near it, and in the roadstead of marsala two ships-of-war were anchored. to their joy, they were able to make out through a telescope, while still at a considerable distance, that these vessels were flying the british ensign, and so headed straight for the port, which they found full of merchantmen. they had indeed been attended by good fortune, for three neapolitan ships-of-war had left the port that morning and were still in sight. being evidently suspicious, however, of the two steamers entering the port together, they turned and made for marsala again. not a moment was lost by the garibaldians, and the disembarkation at once began. it happened that the british vessels-of-war were in the line of fire, and consequently the whole of the men were landed before the neapolitans could bring their guns to bear. two-thirds of them were still on the quay, getting the ammunition and stores into the carts, when the enemy opened fire upon them with shell and grape; fortunately the discharges were ill directed, and the garibaldians marched off into the town without loss. they were welcomed with lively acclamation by the working classes of the town; but the authorities, while throwing no opposition in their way, received them under protest, as indeed was natural enough, for they could hardly suppose that this handful of men could succeed against the power of naples, and dreaded the anger of the government should they bestow any warm hospitality upon these adventurers. two days were spent at marsala in gaining information as to the state of the country, making arrangements for the march inland, and for the transport of ammunition and spare rifles, and in obtaining stores of provisions sufficient for two or three days. it was fortunate indeed that no neapolitan troops were stationed in the town, and that they were therefore able to pursue their work without interruption. during the voyage the force had been divided into eight companies, and a ninth was now formed from the sicilians who joined them. the enthusiasm, that had been necessarily shown rather in action than in shouts by the people of marsala, who, with neapolitan ships in the bay, feared that any demonstration might draw upon themselves a terrible retribution, now showed itself openly. the force was accompanied by great numbers of men and women,--even monks joined in the procession,--while from every village parties of fighting men, many of whom had taken part in the late insurrection, joined the party; and when on the day after leaving marsala they reached salemi, the force had been augmented by twelve hundred men. here garibaldi, at the request not only of his own men, but of the authorities of the little town and deputies from villages round, assumed the title of dictator, in the name of victor emmanuel, king of italy--thus proclaiming to the world that he had broken altogether with the republican faction. except when on duty, there was a thorough comradeship among the garibaldians. fully half of the thousand men who had left genoa with him belonged to the upper and professional classes, and were of the same rank of life as the officers; consequently, when the march was done or the men dismissed from parade, all stiffness was thrown aside, and officers and men mingled in the utmost harmony. all were in the highest spirits. the first well-nigh insuperable difficulties had been overcome; the hindrances thrown in their way by the italian government had failed to prevent their embarkation; the danger of falling into the hands of the neapolitan navy had been avoided, and the reception which they met with showed that they had not overestimated the deep feeling of hostility with which the sicilians regarded their oppressors. frank, while on capital terms with all the officers, who were aware how much the expedition owed to his family, and who saw the almost affectionate manner in which garibaldi treated him, kept principally with his special friends, maffio, rubini, and sarto. during the voyage, as an occasional change from the one absorbing topic, they asked him many questions about his school-days, and were intensely interested in his description of the life, so wholly different from that at italian schools and academies. "we don't have such good times as you have," rubini said; "you seem to have done just what you liked, and your masters do not appear to have interfered with you at all." "no, except when in school, they had nothing to do with us." "and you went where you liked and did what you liked, just as if you were grown-up men? it is astonishing," maffio said; "why, with us we are never out of sight of our masters!" "we might not quite go where we liked: there were certain limits beyond which we were supposed not to pass; but really, as long as we did not get into any rows, we could pretty well go anywhere within walking distance. you see, the big fellows to a certain extent keep order; but really they only do this in the houses where we live--outside there is no occasion to look after us. though we are but boys, we are gentlemen, and are expected to act as such. i can't see why boys want looking after, as if they were criminals, who would break into a house or maltreat an old woman, if they had the chance. it is because we are, as it were, put on our honour and allowed to act and think for ourselves, instead of being marched about and herded like a flock of sheep, that our public school boys, as a rule, do so well afterwards. our great general, wellington--at least i think it was he--said, that the battle of waterloo was fought in the playing fields of eton. of course, though he said eton, he meant of all our public schools. certainly we are much less likely to come to grief when we leave school and become our own masters, than we should be, if we had been treated as children up to that time." "that must be so," rubini said thoughtfully. "i wish we had such schools in italy; perhaps we shall have some day. we have many universities, but no schools at all like yours. of course, your masters are not priests?" "well, they are almost all clergymen, but that makes no difference. they are generally good fellows, and take a lot of interest in our sports, which is natural enough, for many of them have been great cricketers or great oarsmen--that is, they have rowed in their university boat. a master who has done that sort of thing is more looked up to by the boys, and is thought more of, than fellows who have never done anything in particular. the sort of fellows who have always been working and reading, and have come out high at the universities, are of course very good teachers, but they don't understand boys half as well as the others do." "but why should you respect a master who has been, as you say, good at sports, more than one who has studied hard?" "well, i don't know exactly. of course it is very creditable to a man to have taken a high degree; but somehow or other one does have a lot of respect for a fellow who you know could thrash any blackguard who had a row with him in a couple of minutes--just the same as one feels a respect for an officer who has done all sorts of brave actions. i heard, some time ago, that one of our masters had been appointed to a church in some beastly neighbourhood in birmingham or one of those manufacturing towns, and the people were such a rough lot that he could do nothing with them at first. but one day, when he was going along the street, he saw a notorious bully thrashing a woman, and he interfered. the fellow threatened him; and he quietly turned in, and gave him the most tremendous thrashing he had ever had, in about three minutes. after that he got to be greatly liked, and did no end of good in his parish. i suppose there was just the same feeling among those fellows as there is with us at school." "it seems impossible," rubini said, in a tone almost of awe, "that a minister should fight with his hands against a ruffian of that kind." "well, i don't know," frank replied: "if you saw a big ruffian thrashing a woman or insulting a lady, or if even he insulted yourself, what would you do? i am supposing, of course, that you were not in uniform, and did not wear a sword." "i do not know what i should do," rubini said gravely. "i hope i should fly at him." "yes; but if he were bigger and stronger, and you could not box, what would be the good of that? he would knock you down, and perhaps kick you almost to death, and then finish thrashing the woman." the three friends looked gravely at each other. "yes; but you say that this man was a priest, a clergyman?" maffio urged. "yes; but you must remember that he was also a man, and there is such a thing as righteous anger. why should a man look on and see a woman ill-treated without lifting his hand to save her, simply because he is a clergyman? no, no, maffio. you may say what you like, but it is a good thing for a man to have exercised all his muscles as a boy, and to be good at sports, and have learned to use his fists. it is good for him, whether he is going to be a soldier, or a colonist in a wild country, or a traveller, or a clergyman. i am saying nothing against learning; learning is a very good thing, but certainly among english boys we admire strength and skill more than learning, and i am quite sure that as a nation we have benefited more by the one than the other. if there was not one among us who had ever opened a latin or greek book, we should still have extended our empire as we have done, colonised continents, conquered india, and held our own, and more, against every other nation by land and sea, and become a tremendous manufacturing and commercial country." the others laughed. "well crowed, percival! no doubt there is a great deal in what you say, still i suppose that even you will hardly claim that you are braver than other people." "not braver," frank said; "but bravery is no good without backbone. if two men equally brave meet, it is the one with most 'last'--that is what we call stamina--most endurance, most strength, and most skill, who must in the long-run win." "but the fault of you english is--i don't mean it offensively--that you believe too much in yourselves." "at any rate," frank replied, "we don't boast about ourselves, as some people do, and it is because we believe in ourselves that we are successful. for example, you all here believe that, small as is your number, you are going to defeat the neapolitans, and i think that you will do it, because i also believe in you. it is that feeling among our soldiers and sailors--their conviction that, as a matter of course, they will in the long-run win--that has carried them through battles and wars against the biggest odds. that was the way that your roman ancestors carried their arms over europe. they were no braver than the men they fought, but they believed thoroughly in themselves, and never admitted to themselves the possibility of defeat. what a mad expedition ours would be if we had not the same feeling!" "i won't argue any more against you, percival," rubini laughed; "and if i ever marry and have sons, i will send them over to be educated at one of your great schools--that is, if we have not, as i hope we may have by that time, schools of the same kind here. can you fence? do you learn that at your schools?" "not as a part of the school course. a fencing master does come down from london once a week, and some of the fellows take lessons from him. i did among others; but once a week is of very little use, and whenever i was in london during the holidays, i went pretty nearly every day to angelo's, which is considered the best school for fencing we have. of course my father, being a soldier, liked me to learn the use of the sword and rapier, though i might never have occasion to use them, for, as i was his only son, he did not want me to go into the army. it is just as well now that i did go in for it." "i don't expect it will be of much use," rubini said. "if the neapolitans do not show themselves to be braver soldiers than we take them for, there will be no hand-to-hand fighting. if, on the other hand, they do stand their ground well, i do not expect we shall ever get to close quarters, for they ought to annihilate us before we could do so. well, i long for the first trial." "so do i. i should think that a good deal would depend upon that. if we beat them as easily as i have heard my father say they were beaten near rome in 1848, it is hardly likely that they will make much stand afterwards. it is not only the effect it will have on the neapolitan troops, but on the people. we cannot expect that the sicilians will join us in considerable number until we have won a battle, and we want them to make a good show. even the most cowardly troops can hardly help fighting when they are twenty to one; but if we are able to make a fair show of force, the enemy may lose heart, even if the greater part of our men are only poorly armed peasants." to most of those who started from genoa, fully prepared to sacrifice their lives in the cause they regarded as sacred, the success that had attended their passage, and enabled them to disembark without the loss of a man, seemed a presage of further good fortune, and they now marched forward with the buoyant confidence, that in itself goes a long way to ensure success; the thought that there were fifty thousand neapolitan troops in the island, and that general lanza had at palermo twenty-eight thousand, in no way overawed them, and the news that a strong body of the enemy had advanced through calatafimi to meet them was regarded with satisfaction. calatafimi stood in the heart of the mountains, where the roads from palermo, marsala and trapani met; and on such ground the disproportion of numbers would be of less importance than it would be in the plain, for the cavalry of the enemy would not be able to act with effect. the ground, too, as they learned from peasants, was covered with ruins of buildings erected by saracens, spaniards, and normans, and was therefore admirably suited for irregular warfare. garibaldi, with a few of his staff, went forward to reconnoitre the position. he decided that his own followers should make a direct attack, while the new levies, working among the hills, should open fire on the neapolitan flanks and charge down upon them as opportunity offered. at marsala the staff had all bought horses, choosing hardy animals accustomed to work among the mountains. it was not the general's intention to hurl his little force directly on the neapolitan centre, situated in the valley, but, while making a feint there, to attack one flank or the other, the rapidity with which his men manoeuvred giving them a great advantage. while, therefore, the six little guns he had obtained at talamonte were to open fire on the enemy's centre, covered by a couple of hundred men, the rest were to act as a mobile force under his own direction; their movements would be screened by the ruins and broken ground, and he would be able to pass in comparative shelter from one flank to the other, and so surprise the enemy by falling upon them where least expected. as they approached the scene of action, the garibaldians left the road, scattering themselves in skirmishing order on either side, and working their way along through the ruins, which so covered their advance, that it was only occasionally that a glimpse of a red shirt or the gleam of the sun on a musket-barrel showed the enemy that their assailants were approaching. on ground like this horses were of little use, and garibaldi ordered all the junior members of his staff to dismount, fasten their horses in places of shelter, and advance on foot with the troops, as he should not require their services during the fight. chapter viii. palermo. frank's heart beat fast with the excitement of the moment. save himself, there was not one of garibaldi's own men but was accustomed to the sound of artillery, and he could scarcely restrain himself from starting when on a sudden the neapolitan batteries opened fire, and their missiles struck rocks and walls round him, or burst overhead. "it is not so bad as it looks," rubini, whom he joined as he ran forward, said with a laugh. "it is fortunate that it is not," frank replied; "it certainly sounds bad enough, but, as i don't think they can see us at all, it can only be a random fire." he soon shook off the feeling of uneasiness which he could not at first repress, and presently quitted his friend and pushed forward on his own account, keeping close to the road and abreast of garibaldi, so that he could run up and receive any orders that might be given. it was not long before the enemy opened a musketry fire. the guns had been following garibaldi, and he now superintended them as they were run into position, three on either side of the road. they were not placed at regular distances, but each was posted where the men would, while loading, be sheltered behind walls, from which the guns could be run out, wheeled round and fired, and then withdrawn. frank was not long in joining the garibaldian line, which was lying in shelter at the foot of the declivity. in front of them was a level space of ground with a few little farmhouses dotted here and there. on the opposite side of this the hills rose much more steeply. near the summit were the main body of the neapolitans, who were altogether about two thousand strong; an advanced guard of some five or six hundred had descended into the valley, and were moving across it; they had guns with them, which were now at work, as were others with the main body. when garibaldi joined his troops he at once ordered the genoese company to attack the advancing enemy and if possible to capture the guns they had with them. followed by a party of the sicilians, and by frank and several other officers who had no special duties to perform, they dashed forward. at the same moment a number of the peasants, who had made their way round on either flank unobserved, opened fire upon the neapolitans, who at the order of the officer in command began to fall back. the garibaldians hurled themselves upon them, and hastened the movement. the guard had no idea of making a frontal attack upon an enemy so strongly posted, and had, as frank had heard him say before he dismounted, intended to compel them to fall back by flank attacks. he was not surprised, therefore, to hear the trumpet sounding the recall. the summons was, however, unheard, or at any rate unheeded, by the genoese, who continued to press hotly upon the neapolitans; the latter had now been joined by their supporting line, and garibaldi saw that the small party, who were now almost surrounded, must be destroyed, unless he advanced to their assistance. the trumpet accordingly sounded the charge, and the men sprang to their feet and dashed forward at full speed. the fighting had been hand to hand, and the garibaldians had only gained the advantage so far from the fact that they were accustomed to fight each for himself, and were individually more powerful men; it was indeed their habit, in all their fights, to rely on the bayonet, and they still pressed forward. frank was now as cool and collected as he would have been in a football match, and had several times to congratulate himself on the training he had received in the use of his sword, having two combats with neapolitan officers, and each time coming off victorious. presently, in front of him, he saw one of the neapolitan standards. in the confusion it had been left almost unguarded; and calling to three or four of the men around him, he dashed at it. there was a short, sharp fight: the men standing between him and the flag fell before the bayonets of the garibaldians. frank engaged in a tough encounter with the officer who held the flag, and finally cutting him down, seized the staff and carried it back into the garibaldian ranks. "well done, well done, percival!" he turned and saw garibaldi himself, who, at the head of his main body, had that instant arrived. the neapolitans, although also reinforced, fell back up the hill. the face of the ascent was composed of a series of natural terraces, and as they retreated up these, a storm of fire from the reserve at the top of the hill and the cannon there, was poured upon the garibaldians. the general halted his men for a minute or two at the foot of the lower terrace, where they were sheltered by the slope from the missiles of the enemy; they were re-formed, and then re-commenced the ascent. it was hot work; the ground was very steep, and swept by the enemy's fire. as each terrace was gained, the men rushed across the level ground and threw themselves down panting at the foot of the next slope, where they were to some extent sheltered. two or three minutes, and they made their next rush. but little return to the enemy's fire was attempted, for the wretched muskets with which they had been supplied at genoa were practically useless, and only the genoese, who had brought their own carbines, and were excellent shots, did much execution. several times the neapolitans attempted to make a stand, but were as often driven back. on this occasion, however, they fought well and steadily; the terror of garibaldi's name had ceased to have its effect during the twelve years that had elapsed since ferdinand's army had fled before him, but the desire to wipe out that disgrace no doubt inspired them, and garibaldi afterwards gave them full credit for the obstinacy with which they had contested his advance. at last the uppermost terrace was reached; there was one more halt for breath, and then the garibaldians went forward with a cheer. the resistance was comparatively slight: the neapolitan troops at first engaged had already exhausted their ammunition, and had become disheartened at their failure to arrest the impetuous assault of their enemies; and when the garibaldians reached the summit of the hill, they found that the enemy were in full retreat. exhausted by their efforts, and having suffered heavy loss, they made a short halt; the horses of the general and his staff were brought up by the small party who had been left with the guns, and who had advanced across the plain at some little distance in the rear of the fighting line. as soon as they arrived the advance continued until the little army halted at calatafimi, some miles from the scene of battle. the garibaldians had captured only one cannon, a few rifles, and a score or two of prisoners, for the most part wounded; but by the defeat of the enemy they had gained an enormous advantage, for, as the news spread throughout the country, its dimensions growing as it flew, it created great enthusiasm, and from every town and village men poured down to join the army of liberation. the neapolitan governor had indeed made a fatal mistake in not placing a much larger force in the field for the first engagement. the troops fought bravely, and though beaten, were by no means disgraced; and had they been supported by powerful artillery, and by a couple of regiments of cavalry, which could have charged the garibaldians in the plain, the battle would have had a very different result. at calatafimi the garibaldians halted. the neapolitan wounded had been left here; their own had, when the fighting ceased, been sent back to vita. the inhabitants vied with each other in hospitality to them, and although saddened by the loss of many of their bravest comrades, all regarded the victory they had won as an augury of future success. already the country had risen; the neapolitans in their retreat had been harassed, and numbers of them killed by the peasants; every hour swelled the force, and next morning they set out in the highest spirits, and with a conviction that success would attend them. and yet there were grave difficulties to be met, for ten thousand neapolitans were massed in two formidable positions on the road by which it was believed that the garibaldians must advance, and twelve thousand remained in garrison at palermo. that evening they reached alcamo, a large town, where they were received with enthusiasm. the excitement was even more lively when the next day they entered partinico, where the inhabitants, who had been brutally treated by the neapolitans in their advance, had risen when they passed through as fugitives, and massacred numbers of them, and pursued them a considerable distance along the road to palermo. at this point the garibaldians left the road, and ascended to the plateau of renne, and thence looked down on the rich plain in which palermo stands, and on the city itself. here two days of tremendous rain prevented farther movement. "you are now seeing the rough side of campaigning, percival," rubini said, with a laugh, as the four friends sat together in a little arbour they had erected, and over the top of which were thrown two of their blankets. "it is not very pleasant, certainly," frank agreed; "but it might be a good deal worse; it is wet, but it is not cold, and we are not fasting; we each of us laid in a good stock of provisions when at partinico, but i certainly never anticipated that we should have to rely upon telegraph poles for a supply of fuel: it is lucky that the wires run across here, for we should certainly have had to eat our meat raw, or go without, if it hadn't been for them." none of the men appeared to mind the discomfort; the supply of wood was too precious to be used except for cooking purposes, and indeed it would be of no use for the men to attempt to dry their clothes until the downpour ceased. two days later, the enemy having sent out a strong reconnoitring party, garibaldi determined to cross the mountains and come down upon the main southern road from palermo. officers had been sent to the various towns on that road to summon all true men to join. the force started in the evening and performed a tremendous march; the guns were lashed to poles and carried on the men's shoulders, the boxes of ammunition were conveyed in the same manner. the rain continued incessantly, and there was a thick fog which added greatly to the difficulties. it was not until daylight that the head of the column began to straggle into parco, on the southern road. they at once seized some commanding positions round the place, and began to throw up entrenchments, but as parco was commanded by hills, it could not be defended against a determined attack. two days later two strong columns marched out from palermo. the first advanced by the road that crossed the valley, and threatened the garibaldian rear by the passage through the hills known as the pass of piana dei greci. garibaldi at once sent off his artillery and baggage by the road, and with a company of his cacciatori and a body of the new levies, who were known as picciotti, hurried to the pass, which they reached before the neapolitans arrived there. on their opening fire, the neapolitans, thinking that they had the whole garibaldian force in front of them in an extremely strong position, retired at once. finding that the freedom of his movements would be embarrassed by his cannon, which under the most advantageous circumstances could not contend against those of the enemy, he sent them away along the southern road, while he withdrew his force from parco, and for a short time followed the guns; he then turned off into the mountains and directed his march to misilmeri, a few miles from palermo, having completely thrown the enemy off his track. the pursuing column, believing that the whole garibaldian force was retreating with its guns, pushed on rapidly, while garibaldi had already turned the strong position of monreale, and was preparing to attack the town. his force had here been increased by the volunteers who had arrived from the southern villages. the neapolitan general, lanza, soon obtained information as to the invader's position, and prepared with absolute confidence to meet his attack, which must, he believed, be made by the coast road. on the evening of the 26th garibaldi moved across the country by a little-frequented track, and the next morning appeared on the road entering the town at the termini gate. the twelve thousand neapolitan troops who still remained in the town had no suspicion that their foe was near. the day before, the commander of the column that had passed through parco had sent in the news that he was in hot pursuit of the garibaldians, who were flying in all directions, and the governor had given a banquet in honour of the rout of the brigands. the military bands had played on the promenade, and the official portion of the population had been wild with joy. on the other hand, messages had passed constantly between garibaldi's agents and the leaders of the patriotic party in the town, who had promised that the population would rise as soon as he entered the city. it was upon this promise that the general based his hopes of success; for that three thousand badly armed men could hope to overcome twelve thousand troops, well supported by artillery, and defending the town street by street, seemed impossible even to so hopeful a spirit. no time was lost. the garibaldians rushed forward, drove in at once an outpost stationed beyond the barriers at the gate, and carried the barricades, before the troops could muster in sufficient force to offer any serious resistance. but beyond this the opposition became obstinate and fierce; the cacciatori pressed forward by the principal street, the bands of picciotti distracted the attention of the enemy by advancing by parallel streets, and, although the cannon of the castello mare thundered, pouring shot and shell broadcast into the quarter through which the garibaldians were advancing, and though from the large convent of san antonio, held by a battalion of bersaglieri, a terrible fire was maintained upon the flank of the cacciatori at a distance of a couple of hundred yards, they nevertheless pressed on, clearing the street of the troops who opposed their advance, until they reached the square in the centre of the city. all this time the guns of the neapolitan ships-of-war had been pouring a fierce fire into the town, with the apparent object of deterring the populace from rising, for it was upon private houses that the damage was committed, and was, so far as the garibaldians were concerned, innoxious. for a short time the object was attained: so terrible was the fire that swept the principal streets leading down to the water, so alarming the din of exploding shells and falling walls, that for a short time the populace dared not venture from their houses; but fury succeeded to alarm, and it was not long before the inhabitants flocked out into the streets, and under the direction of colonel acerbi, one of the most distinguished officers of the thousand, began to erect barricades. these sprang up with marvellous rapidity; carts were wheeled out from the courtyards and overturned, men laboured with pickaxes and crowbars tearing up the pavements, women threw out mattresses from the windows; all worked with enthusiasm. garibaldi established himself at the pretorio palace, the central point of the city; and here the members of the revolutionary committee joined him. his staff were sent off in all directions to order all the bands scattered throughout the city to assemble there. the people of palermo were wholly without firearms, as all weapons of the kind had been confiscated by the authorities; but armed with hatchets, axes, knives fastened to the end of sticks and poles to act as pikes, long spits and other improvised weapons, they prepared to defend the barricades. a few, indeed, brought out muskets which had been hidden away when all the houses had been searched for weapons, but the greatest difficulty was experienced from the want of powder. garibaldi now stationed his forces so as to intercept all communications between the various points where the neapolitan troops were concentrated. lanza himself, who was at once commander-in-chief and viceroy, was with several regiments at the royal palace. the castello mare was held by a strong force, and there were some regiments at the palace of finance. these points they had only reached after hard fighting; but once there they were isolated from each other, and to join hands they would have to pass along streets blocked by barricades, and defended by a desperate population, and exposed to the fire of the garibaldians from every window and roof. that night hundreds of men and women were set to work to grind charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre, to mix them together to form a rough gunpowder, and then to make it up into cartridges. such a compound would have been useless for ordinary purposes, but would have sufficient strength for street fighting, where it was but necessary to send a bullet some twenty or thirty yards with sufficient force to kill. the fire of the fleet, castello mare, and the palace was maintained all day. the town was on fire in many places. a whole district a thousand yards in length and a hundred yards wide had been laid in ashes, convents and churches had been crushed by shells, and a large number of the inhabitants had been killed by grape and cannister; but after four hours' fighting there was a lull in the musketry fire: the neapolitans were gathered in their three strong places, and were virtually besieged there. in spite of the continued cannonade, the populace thronged the streets which were not in the direct line of fire, the bells of the churches pealed out triumphantly; bright curtains, cloths and flags were hung out from the balconies, friends embraced each other with tears of joy; while numbers continued to labour at the barricades, the monks and clergy joining in the work, all classes being wild with joy at their deliverance from the long and crushing tyranny to which they had been subjected. frank had entered the city with the chosen band, who had led the attack on the termini gate, and advanced with them into the heart of the city. in the wild excitement of the fight he had lost all sense of danger; he saw others fall around him, his cheek had been deeply gashed by a bullet, but he had scarce felt the pain, and was almost surprised when a man close to him offered to bind up his wound with his sash. one of the first orders that garibaldi gave, after establishing himself at the pretorio palace was to send for him. "lieutenant percival," he said, "i commit to you the honour of leading a party to the prisons, and liberating all the political prisoners you find there. you have won that distinction by having, in the first place, captured the flag of the tyrants at calatafimi, and also by the gallant manner in which you have fought in the first rank to-day. i marked your conduct, and it was worthy of your brave father. i can give it no higher praise." taking twenty men with him, frank went to the prisons. on entering each, he demanded from the officials a list of all prisoners confined, and the offences with which they were charged, so that no criminals should be released with the political prisoners. he hardly needed the list, however, for the criminals were but few in number, the neapolitan authorities not having troubled themselves with such trifles as robberies and assassinations, but the prisons were crowded with men of the best blood in the city and the surrounding country, who had been arrested upon the suspicion of holding liberal opinions, and who were treated with very much greater severity than were the worst malefactors. the thunder of the guns had already informed them that a terrible conflict was going on, but it was not until frank and his men arrived that the prisoners knew who were the parties engaged, and their joy and gratitude was unbounded when they learned that they were free, now and for ever, from the power of their persecutors. as they marched to the prison, several of the men had shouted to the crowd, "we are going to free the captives." the news had spread like wildfire, and as the prisoners issued from the jail they were met by their friends and relatives, and the most affecting scenes took place. although frank considered it unlikely in the extreme that persons arrested on the mainland would be carried across to the island, he insisted on the warders accompanying him over the whole prison and unlocking every door, in spite of their protestations that the cells were empty. having satisfied himself on this head, he went to the other prisons, where similar scenes took place. the fire of the neapolitan ships was kept up until nightfall, and then ceased, rather from the exhaustion of the gunners, who had been twelve hours at work, than from any difficulty in sighting their guns; for in palermo it was almost as light as day, the whole city being lit up by the tremendous conflagration, and in addition every house save those facing the port was illuminated, candles burning at every window. throughout the night work was carried on, fresh barricades were erected, and others greatly strengthened. it was all-important that the three bodies of troops, isolated from each other, should not effect a junction. boats were sent off to the merchant ships in the harbour in order to purchase powder, but none could be obtained; however, by morning so much had been manufactured that with what still remained in the garibaldian pouches there was enough for the day's fighting. at garibaldi's headquarters there was no sleep that night: the revolutionary committee received orders from the general where the armed citizens were to take their posts at the barricades, and how their men were to be divided into sections. they were to impress upon all that, though the fighting must be desperate, it could not last long. at the royal palace there were no provisions of any kind for the troops stationed there, nor were there any in the palace of finance; so that if the struggle could be maintained for another day or two at the most, the troops would be driven to surrender by starvation. frank had time, after he returned from the prisons, to have his wound dressed, and he then received the congratulations of his three friends, all of whom were more or less severely wounded. "you have come out of it rather the best of us, percival," maffio said: "i have a bullet through the arm, rubini has lost two of the fingers of his left hand, and sarto will limp for some time, for he has been shot through the calf of his leg; so we shall have no scars that we can show, while you will have one that will be as good as a medal of honour." "i am sure i hope not," frank said; "i can assure you that, honourable as it may be, it would be a nuisance indeed, for i should be constantly asked where i got it, and when i answered, should be bothered into telling the whole story over and over again. however, i think we can all congratulate each other on having come out of it comparatively unhurt; i certainly never expected to do so,--the row was almost bewildering." "it was almost as bad as one of your football tussles," sarto laughed. "you may laugh, but it was very much the same feeling," frank replied. "i have felt nearly as much excited in a football scrimmage as i was to-day; i can tell you that when two sides are evenly matched, and each fellow is straining every nerve, the thrill of satisfaction when one finds that one's own side is gaining ground is about as keen as anything one is ever likely to feel." the next day the fighting recommenced, the neapolitan troops making desperate efforts to concentrate. the fighting in the streets was for a time furious. at no point did the enemy make any material progress, although they gained possession of some houses round the palace and finance offices. the barricades were desperately defended by the armed citizens and the picciotti, and from time to time, when the neapolitans seemed to be gaining ground, the men of garibaldi's thousand flung themselves upon them with the bayonet. that morning, under the superintendence of skilled engineers, powder mills were established, and the supply of gunpowder was improved both in quantity and quality, men and women filling the cartridges as fast as the powder was turned out. fighting and work continued throughout the night, and all next day. chapter ix. hard fighting. on the following morning frank was riding with a message from the general, when he heard a sudden outburst of firing at some distance ahead of him. he checked his horse to listen. "that must be near the porto termini," he said, "and yet there are none of the enemy anywhere near there. it must be either some fresh body of troops that have arrived from the south of the island, or bosco's column returned from their fool's errand in search of us. if so, we are in a desperate mess. six thousand neapolitan troops, under one of their best generals, would turn the scale against us; they must be stopped, if possible, till the general can collect our scattered troops." frank's second supposition was the correct one. the two columns that had, as they believed, been in pursuit of garibaldi, had returned to the town. so unanimous were the country people in their hatred of the neapolitans, that it was only on the previous day that they had learned that the enemy, who they believed were fugitives, had entered palermo with their whole force. furious at having been so tricked, they made a tremendous march, and arriving at the termini gate early in the morning, made a determined attack on the guard there, who defended themselves bravely, but were driven back, contesting every step. frank hesitated for a moment, and then shouted to a soldier near him: "run with all speed to the palace; demand to see the general at once. say that you have come from me, and that i sent you to say that the porto termini is attacked, i know not with what force, and that i am going on to try to arrest their progress until he arrives with help. as you run, tell every man you meet to hasten to oppose the enemy." the man started to run, and frank galloped on, shouting to every armed man he met to follow him. the roar of battle increased as he rode. when he reached the long street leading to the gate, he saw that the enemy had already forced their way in, and that a barricade was being desperately defended by the little force that had fallen back before them. his horse would be useless now, and he called to a boy who was looking round the corner of a house. "look here, my lad: take this horse and lead him to the general's headquarters. here is a five-franc piece. don't get on his back, but lead him. can i trust you?" "i will do it, signor; you can depend upon me." frank ran forward. the tremendous roll of fire beyond the barricade showed how strong was the force there, and he felt sure that the defenders must speedily be overpowered. numbers of men were running along the street; he shouted to them: "the barricade cannot hold out; enter the houses and man every window; we must keep them back to the last. garibaldi will be here before long." he himself kept on until within some two hundred yards of the barricade; then he stopped at the door of a house at the corner of a lane at right angles to the street, and ran into it. he waited until a score of men came up. "come in here," he said: "we will defend this house till the last." the men closed the door behind them, and running into the lower rooms, fetched out furniture and piled it against it. they were assisted by five or six women, who, with some children, were the sole occupants of the house. "bring all the mattresses and bedding that you have," frank said to them, "to the windows of the first floor. we will place them on the balconies." in three or four minutes every balcony was lined with mattresses, and frank sheltered his men behind them. looking out, he saw that the fighting had just ceased, and that a dense mass of the enemy were pouring over the barricade; while at the same moment a crackling fire broke out from the houses near, into which its defenders had run, when they saw that the barricade could be no longer defended. along both sides of the street, preparations similar to those he had ordered had been hastily made; and the men who were still coming up were all turning into the houses. directly the neapolitans crossed the barricade, they opened fire down the street, which was speedily deserted; but frank had no doubt that, as the garibaldian supports came up, they would make their way in at the back and strengthen the defenders. a hundred yards higher up the street was another barricade; behind this the townspeople were already gathering. frank ordered his men to keep back inside the rooms until the enemy came along. "your powder is no good till they are close," he said, "but it is as good as the best at close quarters." [illustration: "the hinges of the door were broken off"] from time to time he looked out. the roar of musketry was continuous; from every window came puffs of smoke, while the enemy replied by a storm of musketry fire at the defenders. while the column was still moving forward, its officers were telling off parties of men to burst open the doors and bayonet all found in the houses. he could mark the progress made, as women threw themselves out of the windows, preferring death that way to being murdered by the infuriated soldiers. it was not long before the head of the column approached the house; then frank gave the word, and from every window a discharge was poured into the crowded mass. stepping back from the balconies to load, the men ran out and fired again as soon as they were ready; while through the upper part of the open windows a shower of bullets flew into the room, bringing down portions of the ceiling, smashing looking-glasses, and striking thickly against the back walls. several of the party had fallen in the first two or three minutes, and frank, taking one of their muskets and ammunition, was working with the rest, when a woman whom he had posted below ran up to say that they were attacking the door, and that it was already yielding. two or three shots fired through the keyhole had indeed broken the lock, and it was only the furniture piled against it that kept it in its place. already, by his instructions, the women had brought out on to the landing sofas, chests of drawers, and other articles, to form a barricade there. frank ran down the stone stairs with six of the men, directing the others to form the barricade on the first floor, and to be prepared to help them over as they returned. it was two or three minutes before the hinges of the door were broken off, by shots from the assailants, and as it fell it was dragged out, and a number of men rushed in and began to pull down the furniture behind. now frank and his party opened fire, aiming coolly and steadily. but the soldiers rushed in in such numbers that he soon gave the word, and his party ran upstairs, and, covered by the fire of their comrades, climbed up over the barricade on to the landing. here they defended themselves desperately. the enemy thronged the staircase, those who were in front using their bayonets, while the men in the passage below fired over their heads at the defenders. momentarily the little band decreased in number, until but two remained on their feet by the side of frank. the women, knowing that no mercy would be shown, picked up the muskets of the fallen, and fired them into the faces of the men trying to pull down or scale the barricades. but the end was close at hand, when there came a tremendous crash, a blinding smoke and dust. the house shook to its foundations, and for a moment a dead silence took the place of the din that had before prevailed. frank and his two companions had been thrown down by the shock. half stunned, and ignorant of what had happened, he struggled to his feet. his left hand hung helpless by his side. he took his pistol, which he had reserved for the last extremity, from his belt, and looked over the barricade. at first he could see nothing, so dense was the smoke and dust. as it cleared away a little, he gave an exclamation of surprise and thankfulness: the stairs were gone. "thank god!" he said, turning round to the women behind him, who were standing paralysed by the explosion and shock. "we are safe: the stairs have gone." still he could scarce understand what had happened, until he saw a yawning hole in the wall near the stairs, and then understood what had taken place. the ships-of-war were again at work bombarding the town. one of their shells had passed through the house and exploded under the stairs, carrying them away, with all upon them. below was a chaos of blocks of stone, mingled with the bodies of their late assailants; but while he looked, a fierce jet of flame burst up. "what was there under the stairs?" he asked the women. "the store of firewood, signor, was there." "the shell which blew up the stairs has set it alight," he said. "we are safe from the enemy; but we are not safe from the fire. i suppose there is a way out on to the roof?" "yes, signor." "then do one of you see that all the children upstairs are taken out there; let the rest examine all the bodies of the men who have fallen; if any are alive they must be carried up." he looked down at the two men who had stood by him till the last: one had been almost decapitated by a fragment of stone, the other was still breathing; only three of the others were found to be alive, for almost all, either at the windows or the barricade, had been shot through the head or upper part of the body. frank assisted the women, as well as he was able, to carry the four men still alive up to the roof. the houses were divided by party walls some seven or eight feet high. frank told the women to fetch a chair, a chest of drawers, and a large blanket, from below. the chest of drawers was placed against the wall separating the terrace from that of the next house down the lane, and the chair by the side of it. with the aid of this, frank directed one of the women to mount on to the chest of drawers, and then took his place beside her. "you had better get up first," he said, "and then help me a little, for with this disabled arm i should not be able to manage it without hurting myself badly." with her aid, however, he had no difficulty in getting up. there were several women on the next roof, but they had not heard him, so intent were they in watching the fray; and it was not until he had shouted several times that they caught the sound of his voice above the din of fighting. "i am going to hand some children and four wounded men down to you," he said, as they ran up. the children were first passed down; the women placed the wounded men one by one on a blanket, and standing on two chairs raised it until frank and the woman beside him could get hold. then they lowered it down on the other side until the women there could reach it. only three had to be lifted over, for when it came to the turn of the fourth he was found to be dead. "you will all have to move on," frank said, as he dropped on to the terrace; "the next house is on fire: whether it will spread or not i cannot say, but at any rate you had better bring up your valuables, and move along two or three houses farther. you cannot go out into the street; you would only be shot down as soon as you issued out. i think that if you go two houses farther you will be safe; the fire will take some time to reach there, and the enemy's column may have passed across the end of the street before you are driven out." the women heard what he said with composure; the terrors of the past three days had excited the nerves of the whole population to such a point of tension, that the news of this fresh danger was received almost with apathy. they went down quietly to bring up their children and valuables, and with them one woman brought a pair of steps, which greatly facilitated the passage of the remaining walls. one of the wounded men had by this time so far recovered himself that he was able, with assistance, to cross without being lifted over in a blanket. a fresh contingent of fugitives here joined them, and another wall was crossed. "i think that you are now far enough," frank said: "will you promise me that if the flames work this way"--and by this time the house where the fight had taken place was on fire from top to bottom--"you will carry these wounded men along as you go from roof to roof? i have my duties to perform and cannot stay here longer. of course, if the fire spreads all the way down the lane, you must finally go down and run out from the door of the last house; but there will be comparatively small danger in this, as it will be but two or three steps round the next corner, and you will there be in shelter." "we promise we will carry them with us," one of the women said earnestly: "you do not think that we could leave the men who have fought so bravely for us to be burnt?" frank now proceeded along the roofs. two of the women accompanied him, to place the steps to enable him to mount and dismount the walls. there was no occasion to warn those below as to the fire, for all had by this time noticed it. he went down through the last house, opened the door, and ran round the corner, and then made his way along the streets until he reached the spot where the combat was raging. garibaldi had, on receiving his message, hurried with what force he could collect to the scene of conflict; but, as he went, he received a letter from general lanza, saying that he had sent negotiators on board the flag-ship of the british fleet anchored in the roadstead, admiral mundy having consented to allow the representatives of both parties to meet there. the tone of the letter showed how the sicilian viceroy's pride was humbled. he had, in his proclamation issued four days before, denounced garibaldi as a brigand and filibuster; he now addressed him as his excellency general garibaldi. garibaldi at once went on board the english admiral's ship, but the fire of the neapolitan ships and their guns on shore continued unabated. general letizia was already on board, with the conditions of the proposed convention. to the first four articles garibaldi agreed: that there should be a suspension of arms for a period to be arranged; that during that time each party should keep its position; that convoys of wounded, and the families of officials, should be allowed to pass through the town and embark on board the neapolitan war-ships; and that the troops in the palace should be allowed to provide themselves with daily provisions. the fifth article proposed that the municipality should address a humble petition to his majesty the king, laying before him the real wishes of the town, and that this petition should be submitted to his majesty. this article was indignantly rejected by garibaldi. letizia then folded up the paper and said, "then all communications between us must cease." garibaldi then protested to admiral mundy against the infamy of the royal authorities in allowing the ships and forts to continue to fire upon his troops while a flag of truce was flying. letizia, who could hardly have expected that the article would be accepted, now agreed to its being struck out, and an armistice was arranged to last for twenty-four hours. garibaldi returned on shore, and at a great meeting of the citizens explained the terms to them, and stated the condition that he had rejected. it was greeted with a roar of approval, and the citizens at once scattered with orders to increase the strength of the barricades to the utmost. the work was carried on with enthusiasm; the balconies were all lined with mattresses, and heaped with stones and missiles of all kinds to cast down upon the enemy, and the work of manufacturing powder and cartridges went on with feverish haste. now that the firing had ceased, officers from the british and american vessels off the town came ashore, and many of them made presents of revolvers and fowling-pieces to the volunteers. the sailors on a sardinian frigate almost mutinied, because they were not permitted to go ashore and aid in the defence. before the twenty-four hours had passed, general letizia called upon garibaldi and asked for a further three days' truce, as twenty-four hours was not a sufficient time to get the wounded on board. this garibaldi readily granted, as it would give time for the barricades to be made almost impregnable, and for him to receive reinforcements, while it could not benefit the enemy. volunteers arrived in companies from the country round, and orsini landed with the cannon and with a considerable number of men who had joined him. such was the report given by letizia, on his return to the royal palace, of the determined attitude of the population and of the formidable obstacles that would be encountered by the troops directly they were put in motion, that general lanza must have felt his position to be desperate. he accordingly sent letizia back again to arrange that the troops at the royal palace, the finance office, and the termini gate should be allowed to move down towards the sea and there join hands. to this garibaldi willingly assented, as, should hostilities be renewed, he would be able to concentrate his whole efforts at one point, instead of being obliged to scatter his troops widely to meet an advance from four directions. all idea of further fighting, however, had been abandoned by lanza, and before the end of the armistice arrived, it was arranged that all should be taken on to their ships, and the forts, as well as the town, evacuated. the general also bound himself to leave behind him all the political prisoners who had been detained in the castello mare. the enthusiasm in the city was indescribable, as the neapolitans embarked on board their ships. the released prisoners were carried in triumph to garibaldi's headquarters. every house was decorated and illuminated, and the citizens, proud of the share they had taken in winning their freedom, speedily forgot their toils and their losses. the men who had marched with garibaldi from marsala were glad indeed of the prospect of a short time of rest. for nearly three weeks they had been almost incessantly marching or fighting, exposed for some days to a terrible downfall of rain, without shelter and almost without food. since they had entered palermo, they had only been able to snatch two or three hours' sleep occasionally. they had lost a large number of men, and few of them had escaped unwounded; but these, unless absolutely disabled, had still taken their share in the fighting, and even in the work of building the barricades. for garibaldi's staff there was little relaxation from their labours. in addition to his military duties, garibaldi undertook with his usual vigour the reorganisation of the municipal affairs of the town. the condition of the charitable establishments was ameliorated; schools for girls established throughout the island; a national militia organised; the poorer part of the population were fed and employed in useful work; the street arabs, with whom palermo swarmed, were gathered and placed in the jesuit college, of which garibaldi took possession, to be trained as soldiers. the organisation of the general government of the island was also attended to, and recruiting officers sent off to every district evacuated by the enemy. this garibaldi was able to do, as over £1,000,000 sterling had been, by the terms of the convention, left in the royal treasury when it was evacuated by the enemy. contracts for arms were made abroad; a foundry for cannon established in the city, and the powder mills perfected and kept at work. increasing reinforcements flocked in from the mainland; medici with three steamers and two thousand men arrived the evening before the neapolitan troops had finished their embarkation; cosenz shortly afterwards landed with an equal number; other contingents followed from all the italian provinces. great britain was represented by a number of enthusiastic men, who were formed into a company. among these was a cornish gentleman of the name of peard, who had long been resident in italy, and had imbibed a deep hatred of the tyrannical government that ground down the people, and persecuted, imprisoned, and drove into exile all who ventured to criticise their proceedings. he was a splendid shot, and the coolness he showed, and his success in picking off the enemy's officers, rendered him a noted figure among garibaldi's followers. the army was now organised in three divisions: one under general turr marched for the centre of the island; the right wing, commanded by bixio, started for the south-east; and the left, under medici, was to move along the north coast; all were finally to concentrate at the straits of messina. it was now the middle of july. wonders had been accomplished in the six weeks that had passed since the occupation of palermo. garibaldi, who had been regarded as almost a madman, was now recognised as a power. he had a veritable army, well supplied with funds--for in addition to the million he had found in the treasury, subscriptions had been collected from lovers of freedom all over europe, and specially from england--and although there still remained a formidable force at messina, it was regarded as certain that the whole of sicily would soon become his. one of the neapolitan war-ships had been brought by her captain and crew into palermo and placed at the disposal of garibaldi; two others had been captured. cavour himself had changed his attitude of coldness, and was prepared to take advantage of the success of the expedition, that he had done his best to hinder. he desired, however, that garibaldi should resign his dictatorship and hand over the island to the king of sardinia. the general, however, refused to do this. he had all along declared in his proclamations that his object was to form a free italy under victor emmanuel, and now declared that he would, when he had captured naples, hand that kingdom and sicily together to the king, but that until he could do so he would remain dictator of sicily. there can be no doubt that his determination was a wise one, for, as afterwards happened at naples, he would have been altogether put aside by the royalist commissioners and generals, his plans would have been thwarted in every way, and hindrances offered to his invasion of the mainland, just as they had been to his expedition to sicily. cavour sent over farina to act in the name of the king. admiral persano, who, with a portion of the italian navy, was now at palermo, persuaded garibaldi to allow farina to assume the position of governor; but, while allowing this, garibaldi gave him to understand that he was to attend solely to financial and civil affairs. farina's first move, however, was to have an enormous number of placards that he had brought with him stuck all over the city, and sent to all the towns of the island, with the words, "vote for immediate annexation under the rule of victor emmanuel." the sicilians neither knew nor cared anything for victor emmanuel, whose very name was almost unknown to the peasants. it was garibaldi who had delivered them, and they were perfectly ready to accept any form of government that he recommended. garibaldi at once told farina that he would not allow such proceedings. the latter maintained that he was there under the authority of the king, and should take any steps he chose; whereupon the general sent at once for a party of troops, who seized him and carried him on board persano's ships, with the advice that he should quit the island at once. this put an effectual stop to several intrigues to reap the entire fruits of garibaldi's efforts. frank had passed a weary time. his wound had been a serious one, and at first the surgeons had thought that it would be necessary to amputate the limb. garibaldi, however, who, in spite of his many occupations, found time to come in twice a day for a few minutes' talk with him, urged them, before operating, to try every means to save the arm; and two weeks after frank received the wound, the care that had been bestowed upon him and his own excellent constitution enabled them to state confidently that he need no longer have any anxiety upon that account, as his recovery was now but a question of time. the general thanked frank for the early information sent by him of bosco's arrival, and for his defence of the house, and as a reward for these and his other services promoted him to the rank of captain. a fortnight later, he was so far convalescent that he could move about with his arm in a sling. he had already regained most of his bodily strength, and by the end of the second week in july he was again on horseback. he was, then, delighted when, on july 17th, he heard that garibaldi was going to start at once to assist medici, who, with cosenz, had advanced to within some twenty miles of messina, and had had some skirmishes with a force of six thousand five hundred picked troops with a powerful artillery. the neapolitans, who were commanded by general bosco, had now taken up a very strong position near the town and fortress of milazzo. colonel corti arrived at palermo on that day with nine hundred men in an american ship. he had left genoa at the same time as medici, but the vessel was captured by neapolitan men-of-war, and towed into naples, where she was anchored under the guns of the fort. she lay there for twenty-two days, when the strong remonstrances of the american minister forced the government of naples to allow her to leave. she now arrived just in time for those on board to take part in the operations. garibaldi embarked a portion of them on a british merchantman he had chartered, and proceeded on board with his staff. the next day he landed at the port of patti, some twenty miles from milazzo, and on the 19th joined medici's force. a strong brigade that had been sent by land had not yet arrived, but garibaldi determined to attack at once. the position of the neapolitan force was a very strong one. their right extended across the front of the fortress of milazzo, and was protected by its artillery; its approaches were hidden by cactus hedges, which screened the defenders from view, and could not be penetrated by an attacking force, except after cutting them down with swords or axes. the centre was posted across the road leading along the shore. its face was defended by a strong wall, which had been loopholed. in front of this the ground was covered with a thick growth of canes, through which it was scarcely possible for men to force their way. the neapolitan left were stationed in a line of houses lying at right-angles to the centre, and therefore capable of maintaining a flanking fire on any force advancing to the attack. the garibaldians suffered from the very great disadvantage of being ignorant of the nature of the ground and of the enemy's position, the neapolitans being completely hidden from view by the cactus hedges and cane brakes. garibaldi had intended to attack before daylight, but the various corps were so widely scattered that it was broad day before the fight began. as soon as the force had assembled they advanced across the plain, which was covered with trees and vineyards, and as they approached the enemy's position they were received with a heavy fire by the unseen foe. for hours the fight went on. in vain the garibaldians attempted to reach their hidden enemies, for each time they gathered and rushed forward, they were met by so heavy a fire that they were forced to retire. the left wing, indeed, gave way altogether and fell back some distance from the battle-field, but the centre and right, where garibaldi himself, with medici and many of his best officers were fighting, still persevered. at one o'clock garibaldi sent off several of his officers to endeavour to rally and bring up some of the scattered detachments of the left wing. after a lot of hard work they returned with a considerable force. garibaldi, at the head of sixty picked men, made his way along the shore, until, unobserved, they reached a point on the flank of the enemy's left wing; then, pouring in a heavy volley, they dashed forward, captured a gun, and drove the neapolitans from their line of defence. suddenly, however, a squadron of the enemy's cavalry fell upon the garibaldians and drove them back in disorder. garibaldi himself was forced off the road into a ditch; four troopers attacked him, but he defended himself with his sword, until missori, one of his aides-de-camp, rode up and shot three of the dragoons. the other troops, who had been following at a distance, now came up; and together they advanced, driving before them the defenders of the enemy's entrenchments, until these, losing heart, broke into flight towards the town. the panic spread, and at all points the garibaldians burst through the defences, in spite of the fire of the guns of the fortress, and pursued the flying enemy into the town. here a sanguinary contest was maintained for some hours, but at last the neapolitan troops were all driven into the fortress, which, now that the town had been evacuated by their own men, opened fire upon it. the gunners were, however, much harassed by the deadly fire maintained by peard and his companions, all of whom were armed with rifles of the best pattern, while the guns of the garibaldian frigate played upon the sea face of the fortress. the position was, in fact, untenable. general bosco knew that no assistance could reach him, for the greater portion of the neapolitan troops had already withdrawn from the island. the little fortress was crowded with troops, and he had but a small supply of provisions. three days later, he hoisted the white flag, and sent one of his officers into the town to negotiate terms of surrender. these were speedily concluded. all artillery, ammunition, and the mules used by the artillery and transport, were left behind, and the troops were to be allowed to march, with their firearms, down to the wharf; there to be conveyed on board the ships in the harbour, and landed on the mainland. frank had not taken part in the battle of milazzo, which had cost the garibaldians over a thousand in killed and wounded; for he had been despatched by garibaldi, when the latter went on board ship at palermo, to general bixio, who was in the centre of the island, to inform him of the general's advance, and to state that probably he would be in messina in a week. he said that some little time must elapse before the arrangements for the passage across to the mainland could be effected; and that bixio was to continue to stamp out the communistic movement, that had burst out in several of the towns there, and to scatter the bands of brigands; and was, a fortnight after frank's arrival, to march with his force to messina. frank would have much preferred to accompany the general, but the latter said: "no doubt, percival, you would have liked to go with me, but some one must be sent, and my choice has fallen upon you. i have chosen you because, in the first place, you are your father's son. you have already distinguished yourself greatly, and have fought as fearlessly and as steadily as the best of my old followers. surely it would be impossible for me to give you higher praise than that. in the next place, you are not yet fit for the hard work of the campaign. mantoni tells me that it will be some weeks before your arm will be strong again; though the bone has healed better than he had expected, after the serious injury you received in your gallant defence of that house, when bosco entered the town. "but even had it not been for that, i think that you have done more than your share. there are many ardent spirits who have arrived from the mainland, who have not yet had a chance of striking a blow for their country; and it is but fair that they should have their opportunity. moreover, your mother sent you out on a special mission, first to hand to me her noble gift, and secondly to search the prisons in the towns we might occupy, for her father, and possibly her husband. she knew that, going with me, you must share in the perils and honours of the campaign. you have done so gloriously, but in that way you have done enough. grievous indeed would it be to me had i to write to your good mother to say that the son she had sent me had been killed. her father has been a victim for italian liberty. her husband has, if our suspicions are well founded, sacrificed himself by the fearlessness with which he exposed the iniquities of the tyrants' prison-houses. it would be too cruel that she should be deprived of her son also. "i regard it as certain that you will not find those you seek in the prisons of this island. as you saw when we opened the doors here, there were no prisoners from the mainland among those confined there. you will be with me when we cross the straits: it is there that your mission will really begin, and it is best that you should reserve yourself for that. the battle i go to fight now will be the last that will be needed, to secure at least the independence of sicily. and i doubt much whether, when we have once crossed, we shall have to fight as hard as we have done. here we landed a handful; we shall land on the mainland over twenty thousand strong; the enemy despised us then--they will fear us now." "thank you, general; i should not have thought of questioning your orders, whatever they might have been, but i felt for a moment a little disappointment that i was not to take part in the next battle. i will start at once to join general bixio. will it be necessary for me to stay with him till he marches to messina, or can i ride for that city when i have delivered your orders?" "in that you can consult your own wishes, but be assured that i shall not attempt to cross the straits until bixio joins me; and i should say that you would find it more interesting with him than doing routine work at messina; moreover, you must remember that the population there are not all united in our favour, as they are here. they are doubtless glad to be free, but the agents of the revolutionists have been at work among them, and, as you know, with such success that i have been obliged to send bixio with a division to suppress the disorders that have arisen. i have not freed sicily to hand it over to mazzini's agents, but that it shall form a part of united italy under victor emmanuel. still there is enough excitement existing there to render it somewhat hazardous for one of my officers to ride alone through the country, and i think that it would be much better for you therefore to remain with bixio." chapter x. with bixio. just as the ship carrying garibaldi and his followers weighed anchor, frank rode out from palermo. the road was the best in the island, and he arrived late that evening at polizzi, a distance of some forty miles from palermo. on the following day he halted at traina; here he found a detachment of bixio's brigade, which was commanded by rubini, who welcomed him most cordially. "who would have thought of seeing you, percival! surely the general is not coming this way?" "he started yesterday to join medici, and give battle to bosco, who has some seven thousand picked troops at milazzo. he has sent me here with an order for bixio." "it is enough to make one tear one's hair," rubini said, "to think that we are out of it." "well, we have done our share, rubini, and although i was disappointed at first, i admit that it is only fair that the men who have done no fighting should have a turn. we have lost about a third of our number, and most of us have been wounded. medici's corps have never fired a shot yet, nor have those of cosenz; we shall have our share again when we cross to calabria. now, what are you doing here?" "we are scattered about in small detachments, giving a sharp lesson, whenever we get the chance, to the revolutionists." "but who are the revolutionists?" "they are agents of the revolutionary committee--that is, of mazzini and his fanatics--and it seems that several parties of them were landed on the east coast to get up a row on their own account; and just as farina has been trying to induce the country to throw over garibaldi, and declare for victor emmanuel, of whom the people know nothing, and for whom they care less, these agents have been trying to get them to declare for a republic, and they have certainly had more success than farina had. there is nothing tangible in the idea of a king, while, when the poor fools are told that a republic means that the land and property of the rich are to be handed over to the poor, the programme has its attractions. at any rate, it has its attractions for the brigands, of whom, at the best of times, there are always a number in the forests on the slopes of etna; and i have no doubt that money was freely distributed among them to inflame their zeal. several houses of well-to-do citizens and country proprietors had been looted, and something like a reign of terror had begun, before bixio's brigade marched to restore order. "you see there are a great many more of these bands in the forests than usual. after the rising in the winter was suppressed, very many of those who took part in it dared not return to their homes, and so fled to the hills; the better class of these men came in as soon as our capture of palermo made it safe for them to do so. a company of them has been formed, and is now with bixio, and i believe that others have enlisted with medici; still there are a good many of the lower class who joined in the rising, still among the hills. in a rebellion like this the insurgents would be divided into two classes--the one true patriots, the other men who join in the hope of plunder, the discontented riffraff of the towns. a life in the mountains offers great attractions to these: in the first place they don't have to work for a living, and in the next there is always the chance of carrying off some rich proprietor and getting a large ransom for him. these therefore go to swell the ranks of the men who have for years set the authorities of the island at defiance, and have terrorised all the people dwelling on the plains at the foot of etna. "just at present all these men call themselves republicans, and had it not been for bixio's arrival they would have established a perfect reign of terror. we here have shot a good many, and i believe bixio has also given them some sharp lessons; at any rate, our presence here has effectually stopped the game of the revolutionists in the towns and villages on the plain, but it will be a long time indeed before brigandage can be suppressed, and of course there is no intention of attempting such a business now; that will be a work that must be undertaken by government, when italy has achieved her freedom, and feels in a position to turn her attention to putting down these bands which have for years past--i may almost say for centuries--been a disgrace to our land. we are here solely to put a stop to the revolutionary movement, just as garibaldi put a stop to the royal movement by sending farina out of the island." "and where is bixio?" "he has been sweeping through the small towns and villages round the foot of the mountains, and will this afternoon, i believe, arrive at bronte, which has been the headquarters of this revolutionary business. i expect he will put his foot heavily on the men who have been foremost in stirring the people up there. bixio is just the man for this work. he knows that one sharp lesson impresses the minds of people like these sicilians, and has far more effect than lenient measures or verbal reproofs. they have to be taught that it is not for them to meddle in affairs of state. all these matters must be left to their representatives in parliament and the government of the country. the petty authorities of these little towns come to regard themselves as important personages, and indulge themselves in prating on public affairs, instead of minding their own business, which, in this case, is to do their best to give protection to the people in their districts against the incursions of bands of brigands. i suppose you go on to-morrow?" "yes; i shall start at daybreak; it is not many hours' ride." "i have about a score of mounted men here, percival. i will send four of them with you." "surely there is no occasion for that," frank said. "well, i don't know: i think there is. there are no large bands, so far as i know, down in the plain at present; but some of these gangs have broken up, especially those that came from the mainland, and have not as yet taken to the mountains. they go about perpetrating crimes at detached houses or on any traveller they meet. i need not say that at present their animosity to the red shirts is bitter, and that in revenge for their comrades who have been shot or hanged, they would certainly kill any of us on whom they could lay hands; so it would be better for you to have four men as an escort. they might as well be doing that as anything else, for just at present there is nothing going on about here, and it is as dull as it would be in a small garrison town in northern italy. how long do you suppose it will be before we join garibaldi at messina?" "not for some little time, i think. if he and medici defeat bosco at milazzo, as i suppose they will, he will at once go on to messina; but his message to bixio was that it must take some time to make the preparations for crossing to the mainland, and that until he sends word to the general to join him, he is to continue his work of stamping out this movement in restoring order, in reorganising the municipal authorities, and in placing the administration of the towns and villages in the hands of well-affected men, so that there can be no chance of mazzini's party causing any serious disturbances again, after he has left." "i see you still wear your arm in a sling?" "yes; mantoni told me that it would not be safe to take it out of the splints for another month, but he had every hope that when i did so i should be able to use it, though i must not put too much strain on it. of course it is a nuisance, but i have every reason to be thankful, for i was afraid for a time that i was going to lose it altogether." "it was a grand thing, the defence of that house, percival." "it was a grand thing that that shell struck the stairs just when it did, for another minute would have seen the end of the defence and of our lives. as it was, that explosion saved four of us, for the wounded men we carried off are all convalescent,--and also the lives of five women and eight children, for, exasperated as the neapolitans were, they would assuredly have shown no more mercy there than they did in the other houses they entered. i have been well rewarded, for garibaldi has made me captain." sarto and maffio returned at this moment, and the three heartily congratulated frank on his promotion. they had been away with a small detachment to a village three miles distant, in search of a man who had been one of the most prominent in stirring up the peasantry, but he had left before they got there. they spent a pleasant evening together, and in the morning frank started with the four mounted men and rode to bronte. just as he approached the town he heard several volleys of musketry, and on inquiry found that thirty men who had been captured on the march or caught in hiding in the town had been shot. all were strangers--either revolutionary agents or brigands. on inquiring for the general, he found that he had just gone to the town hall, where he had ordered the municipal authorities and the principal citizens to meet him. putting up his horse, he went there first. bixio had just begun to speak. "if i had done my duty," he said, "you as well as the men who have been stirring up riot and revolution would be lying dead outside the town. it is scandalous that you, men who have been elected by your fellows for the maintenance of order and good government in this town and district, should allow yourselves to be terrified into obedience by a handful of agitators, instead of calling out all the men capable of bearing arms and suppressing the sedition at once. you have failed miserably in your duty. the man who came as your deliverer is now, in the hour of battle, weakened by being compelled to send part of his army to suppress the disorder at which you have connived. you private citizens are scarcely less to blame: when you saw that these men were allowing brigandage and robbery to go on unchecked and making speeches subversive of order instead of doing their duty, you should have taken the matter into your own hands, expelled them from the offices they disgraced, and appointed worthier men as your representatives." he spoke to an officer standing by him, who went out and returned with twenty soldiers who had been drawn up outside the hall. bixio remained silent during his absence, and now said: "captain silvio, you will arrest the syndic and these municipal councillors, and march them off to prison. they may think themselves fortunate that i do not order them to be shot for conniving at sedition, and permitting these brigands to carry on their work of crime with impunity." the soldiers surrounded the men pointed out, and marched away with them. "now, sirs," bixio then went on to the private citizens, "you will at once placard the town with notices that the most worthy and loyal man in the town, whoever he may be, is nominated by me as syndic, and that twelve others, all of them loyal and true men, are appointed municipal councillors. i leave it to you to make the choice, but mind that it be a good one. of course i wish men of standing and influence to be appointed, but the one absolute qualification is that they shall be men who have shown themselves opposed to the conduct of those who will pass the next six months in prison; who can be trusted to maintain law and order with a strong hand, to punish malefactors, and to carry out all orders they may receive from general garibaldi, dictator of the island of sicily. let me have the names of the men you have chosen in the course of an hour. i shall have inquiries made as to the character and reputation of each before confirming their appointment. i have nothing more to say." the men retired, looking greatly crestfallen; and bixio, turning round, saw for the first time frank, who had quietly taken up his place behind him. the young fellow had been a great favourite of his ever since he saw him on the occasion of his first visit to garibaldi. "ah, percival, i am glad to see you, and that you should be here is a proof that your arm is getting stronger. i suppose you are here on duty?" "yes, sir; knowing that rumours of various kinds might reach you, the general has sent me to tell you that he has started with a portion of cosenz's men to reinforce medici, and to attack bosco at milazzo. he considers that he will have sufficient force for the purpose, but if not, he will, in a couple of days after he arrives there, be joined by the rest of cosenz's command, who are proceeding by land. after beating bosco, he will go on to messina. it will take him a considerable time to make all the preparations needful for the expedition to the mainland, and he wishes you to continue your work here, to put down all disorder, and to organise and establish strong and loyal municipal and district councils in this part of the island, so that when he advances, he need have no cause for any anxiety whatever for the state of affairs here. he will send you ample notice when all is in readiness for the invasion of calabria." "i should like to be at milazzo," bixio said, "but as that is now impossible i should prefer remaining here until garibaldi is ready to start, to hanging about messina for weeks: that sort of thing is very bad for young troops. here they get plenty of marching, and a certain amount of drill every day, and in another month or six weeks even the latest recruits, who arrived before we left palermo, will be fit to take part in a battle by the side of our veterans. are you to stay with me, or to go on to messina?" "i had no explicit order, sir, but from what the general said, i gathered that he thought it better for me to stay, at any rate for the present, with you. the doctor said that i must keep my arm in a sling for some time to come, and although i did not ride here at any great speed, i feel some sharp twinges in it, and think i should wait a few days before i mount again. after that i shall be happy to carry out any orders, or perform any duty, with which you may think fit to intrust me." "quite right, percival. you will, of course, be attached to my staff while you are with me, and i will set you to easy work when i consider you fit to undertake it. now that i have put things in train here, i shall make it my headquarters for a time, but shall be sending parties to the hills. i know that the villages there are all terrorised by the brigands, and although it is hopeless to try to stamp these fellows out, i may strike a few blows at them. the worst of it is, that half the peasantry are in alliance with them, and the other half know that it is as much as their lives are worth to give any information as to the brigands' movements, so that to a large extent i shall have to trust to luck. when you are able to ride again, i will send you off with one of these parties, for i am sure that the air of the slopes of etna will do an immense deal towards setting you up again, while the heat in the plains is very trying, especially to those who are not in robust health, and are unaccustomed to a climate like this." "it is hot," frank said. "i started my journeys very early in the morning, and stopped for five or six hours in the middle of the day; but i think that, even in that way, the heat has taken a good deal more out of me than the fatigue of riding." "i have no doubt that is so; and i should recommend you, for the next week, to rise at daybreak, lie down, or at any rate keep within doors, between ten or eleven and five in the afternoon, and then take gentle exercise again, and enjoy yourself until eleven or twelve o'clock at night. even the natives of the island keep indoors as far as possible during the heat of the day, at this time of year, and if they find it necessary, it is still more so for you. i suppose you came through traina last night?" "yes, sir; and was very glad to find rubini and my other two friends there." the next week passed pleasantly. bixio himself was often away, making flying visits to the towns and villages where he had left detachments; but as there were several of the officers of the force at bronte, who had crossed in the same ship with him from genoa, and by whose side he had fought at calatafimi and palermo, frank had very pleasant society. indeed, as the majority of the force were men of good family and education, there was, when off duty, little distinction of rank, and with the tie of good comradeship, and of dangers and fatigues borne in common, there was none of the stiffness and exclusiveness that necessarily prevail in regular armies. all of the original thousand knew frank well, had heard how largely the expedition was indebted for its success to the aid his mother had sent, and how he had distinguished himself in the fighting, and they welcomed him everywhere with the utmost cordiality. early in the morning he always went for a walk, and was usually accompanied by one or two of his acquaintances who happened to be off duty. after taking a meal, he generally spent the evening sitting in the open air in front of the principal _café_, eating ices, drinking coffee, and chatting with the officers who gathered there. at the end of a week he no longer felt even passing pains in his arm, and reported to bixio that he was ready for work again. "not hard work," the general said; "but i can give you employment that will suit you. i am calling in rubini's detachment from traina, where things are settling down, and shall send fifty men under his command to the village of latinano. it is some three thousand feet above the sea, and you will find it much more cool and pleasant there than it is here. other villages, on about the same line, will also be occupied. the brigands have found that it is no longer safe to come down into the plains, and i am going to push them as far up the slopes as i can: possibly we may then be able to obtain some information from the peasants below that line as to the principal haunts of these fellows in the mountains. at present these villages that i am going to occupy are all used by the brigands, whom the people regard as good customers; and though they ill-treat and murder without mercy any they suspect of being hostile to them, it is of course to their interest to keep well with the majority, and to pay for what they want. terror will do a good deal towards keeping men's mouths shut; but anything like the general ill-treatment of the population would soon drive somebody to betray them. "of course, hitherto the brigands have had little fear of treachery. the commanders of the bourbon troops had no disposition to enter upon toilsome expeditions, which offered small prospect of success, merely to avenge the wrongs of the peasants; but now matters have changed. we are not only willing, but eager, to suppress these bands; and, seeing that we are in earnest, some of the peasantry may pluck up heart enough to endeavour to get rid of those who at present hold them at their mercy. "however, i own i have no very great hopes that it will be so. there exists, and has existed for many years, an association called the mafia, which extends over the whole island. it comprises men of all classes, from the highest to the lowest, and exercises a terrible power. no one, save the leaders, know who are its members, and therefore each distrusts his neighbour. a murder is committed. every one may be perfectly well aware who is its author, and yet no one dare say a word. if by some chance the carabinieri, knowing the assassin had a standing feud with the victim, lay hands upon him, the organisation sets to work. the judge himself may be a member; if not, he speedily receives an intimation that his own life will be forfeited if the murderer is condemned. but it is seldom that this is necessary. the jailors are bribed or terrorised, and when the time comes for him to be brought to trial, it is found that he has mysteriously escaped; and, in the few cases where a man is brought into court, no witnesses dare appear against him, and he is certain to be acquitted. it is a scandalous state of things, and one which, we may hope, will be changed when italy is free, and able to attend to its domestic affairs. but at present the organisation is all-powerful, so that you see it is not only the vengeance of the brigands, but the power of the mafia, which seals men's mouths, and enables criminals to carry on their proceedings with but little fear of the arm of the law." "i am much obliged to you for sending me up with rubini," frank said; "and i shall greatly enjoy the mountain air, but i hardly see that i can be of much service there." "not much, perhaps; but it will fit you to do duty when we land in calabria. rubini's corps is, like the rest, composed partly of men who have seen service before, with a few of the thousand; but with them are a large proportion of fresh arrivals, as brave, no doubt, as the others, but without their experience. he will at times make excursions if he can obtain news of a party of brigands being in the neighbourhood, in which case he will naturally take the men he can most rely upon; and i shall request him when he is away to intrust the command of those left in the village to you, who are one of the thousand. you are a captain, as i heard with much pleasure in a letter from garibaldi, and on the general's staff; and as you showed how stoutly you could defend a house against an overwhelming force, you could certainly hold a village with fifteen or twenty men against any number of brigands who might try to take advantage of the absence of a portion of the force to attack those that remained there. however, it is not likely that anything of the sort will take place: the brigands are not fond of fighting unless there is ample booty to be obtained, though they might endeavour to avenge the losses they have sustained by a sudden attack, if they thought they could take you wholly unawares. rubini will arrive here with his corps to-morrow afternoon, and will start the next day with half his detachment; the other half will go to malfi, a village ten miles from latinano." "you are looking better," rubini said, as frank met him, when the company piled arms in the principal square in the town. "you said you were all right when i saw you the other day, but you were not looking so." "no; i was feeling the ride, and my arm was hurting me a bit. however, ten days' rest has set me all right again, and i am quite equal to moderate work. do you know what you are going to do?" "no, i have only orders to march in here to-day." "well, i can tell you. several detachments, of fifty men each, are going up to the villages some three thousand feet up the slopes of etna. your company is to be divided into two. you with half of them are to go to latinano, and the other half to malfi, a place ten miles from it. your lieutenant, pasco, will take the other wing to malfi. i am going with you." "well, in that case i shall not mind it, though it will not be lively there unless we have a brush with the brigands. it will at any rate be a great deal cooler than traina, which was an oven for six hours every day. are you going as second in command?" "to a certain extent, yes. bixio said that, as i should be no good for fighting at present, i was to take command of the village when you were away brigand-hunting. he said that naturally you would take your best men for that work, and leave some of those who have had as yet no experience in fighting to take care of the village." "well, they could not be left in better hands than yours," rubini said heartily. "i shall be very glad to have you with me." at daybreak the next morning rubini's little column got into motion. frank was the only mounted officer, and he took his place by the side of bixio, who marched at the head of the column. the rise was steady, and though occasionally they came to steeper places, there was no pause, with the exception of a couple of halts for a few minutes, and they reached latinano at eleven o'clock, having been nearly seven hours on the way. there was no demonstration of welcome when they arrived, nor did they expect it. doubtless such of the villagers as felt glad to see them march in would be afraid to show it openly, as they would assuredly suffer, were they to do so, when the troop marched away again. rubini at once quartered his men in twos and threes among the houses. he himself, with frank as his lieutenant, accepted the invitation of the priest, whose house was the best in the village, to stay there. "it is not like the palazzo at palermo, percival," rubini laughed; "but you can scarcely expect that on mount etna; at any rate, it is a vast improvement on our camping ground on the plains." the priest set before them what provisions he had in the house, and assured them that he would provide better for them in the future. rubini, however, knowing how poor were the priests of these mountain villages, told him that, although they thankfully accepted his hospitality on that occasion, they would in the future cater for themselves. "we have," he said, "two waggons following us; they will be up by the evening. we have no idea of imposing ourselves, or our men, upon the inhabitants of this village, who assuredly could hardly fill fifty additional mouths. we have brought with us flour, wine, and other necessaries, and no doubt we shall be able to purchase sheep and goats from your people, who, by the way, did not appear to be very much pleased at our arrival." "you must not blame them, signor. in the first place, they are poor; and once, when a detachment of bourbon troops came up here, they devoured everything, and paid for nothing: happily they only stayed for a week, or the village would have been ruined. after the tales that have been spread of the lawlessness of garibaldi's troops, they must have feared that even worse than what before happened was about to befall them." "they do nothing but tell lies of us," rubini said angrily. "never since we landed at marsala have we taken a mouthful of food without paying for it, unless it has been spontaneously offered to us, as it was when we were fighting at palermo." "i have no doubt that what you say is true, signor; but the poor people have been taught to believe otherwise, so they are hardly to blame if they did not evince any lively joy at your arrival. moreover, they do not know how long you are going to stay here, and are well aware that any who show satisfaction at your coming, or who afford you any aid or hospitality beyond that which they dare not refuse, will be reported to the brigands, who will take a terrible revenge after you have left the village." "i can understand that their position is not a comfortable one," rubini said; "but the people of these districts have largely brought it upon themselves. i do not say that they are in a position to resist large parties of brigands, but their sympathy seems to be everywhere with these scoundrels; they afford them every information in their power, screen them in every way, give false information to the carabinieri, and hinder the course of justice. people who act thus must not be surprised if they are regarded as allies of these bands, and they must put up with the inconvenience of having troops quartered upon them, and may think themselves fortunate that the consequences are no worse. at present we are not here to act against the brigands alone, as that work must be postponed until other matters are settled, and the government has time to turn its attention to rooting out a state of things that is disgraceful to the country. we are here now as the agents of general garibaldi, dictator of sicily, to suppress--not crime--but the stirring-up of insurrection and revolt against the existing government of the island." "i heartily wish that it could be rooted out," the priest said. "i can assure you that we, whose work lies in these mountain villages, feel the evil consequences to the full as much as those who work in the towns and villages lying round the foot of the mountains. it is not that our people suffer so greatly in pocket--for the most part they are too poor to be robbed; the few that are better off pay a yearly contribution, and as long as they do so are left in peace, while the better class down in the plains are liable at any time to be seized and compelled to pay perhaps their all to save their lives. the harm is rather to their souls than to their bodies; as you say, their sympathies are wholly with the brigands, they come to regard them as heroes, and to think lightly of the terrible crimes they commit upon others; and not infrequently some young man more enterprising than the rest, or one who has perhaps stabbed a rival in love or has been drawn for service in the army, takes to the hills and joins them, and for so doing he incurs no reprobation whatever. it is a sad state of things, and i trust that when your general has settled all other matters in the island he will employ his whole force in a campaign against the brigands. it is not a work to be taken up by small parties; the evil has grown to such dimensions that nothing short of an army would root it out, and indeed it could only then be accomplished by months of patient work, so extensive are the forests, so great the facility for concealment." "it will fall to other hands than garibaldi's, father. his mission is to deliver sicily and the mainland from the bourbon rule, and then to hand them over to victor emmanuel, who, a free king over a free nation, will be able to remove all these abuses that have flourished under the bourbons. as for us, we are soldiers without pay, fighting for love of our country. when we have done our work and freed it from its oppressors, we shall return to our homes, and leave it to the king, his parliament, and the regular army to put down such abuses as this brigandage. i suppose, father, it would hardly be fair to ask you if there are many of these fellows in the neighbourhood?" the priest smiled. "i do not mind telling you that there was a band of some fifty of them within five miles of this place yesterday. this morning it was known that several detachments of troops would march from bronte at daybreak, and that their destination was the mountains. i have no doubt whatever that the news was carried to the band half an hour later; and by this time they are probably twenty miles away up in the forests, but in which direction i have no idea, nor do i know what their plans are. it may be that so long as these villages are held they will move round to the other side of etna. it may be that several of the bands will unite and attack one or other of your parties, not for what they think they would get, but as a lesson that it would be better to leave them alone. i should say that, except by pure accident, you are not likely to catch sight of a brigand--unless, indeed, one comes down here as a shepherd from the hills, to make some small purchases, and to gather news." "i think that is likely to be the result of our journey," rubini laughed; "but, nevertheless, our being here will have served its purpose. so long as we and the other detachments are up here, the brigands will not care to venture into the plain; nor will the agents of the revolution who are with them. if they do, they are not likely to get safely back again. i may tell you that signals have been arranged by which smoke from the hill-tops near bronte will give us information that some of these bands have passed down the mountain, the direction in which they have gone, and that in which they are retiring; and i fancy they will hardly regain the mountains without being intercepted by one or other of our parties. it is true that we shall not remain here very long; but by the time we go, there will be a very different system established throughout the island; and they will find in future that they can no longer get friends and abettors among the local authorities, but will have to meet an active resistance, that plunder cannot be obtained without fighting, and that even when obtained it will not be carried off to the hills without a hot pursuit being maintained." "i shall be glad indeed if it is so," the priest said. "if the people of the towns and villages will but combine, and are actively supported by small bodies of troops in all the towns, it will deal a far heavier blow to brigandage than can be effected by sending flying expeditions into the mountains." chapter xi. a hazardous expedition. "i fancy, percival, that the brigands are far more likely to find us than we are to find them," rubini said on the following morning, when he and frank strolled out into the village. "we can expect no information from these people; and as to marching about on the off chance of lighting upon them, it would be simply absurd. on the other hand, the brigands will know, by this time, where all our detachments are quartered, and what is their strength. they must be furious at the losses they have had down in the plains; some forty or fifty of them have been killed in fights, and over a hundred shot, at bronte and other towns. they must be burning for vengeance. i cannot help thinking that some of these bands are likely to unite, and attack some of our posts. even if they came a couple of hundred strong, we might feel pretty safe of beating them off if they ventured by daylight; but a sudden attack at night might be extremely serious." "very serious indeed," frank agreed. "scattered as the men are, through the village, they would be shot down as they came out of the houses." "it is an awkward position, certainly," rubini said, "and one that i don't see my way out of." "i should say, rubini, the best thing we could do would be to quarter ourselves in the church." "it would be a very serious step," rubini said gravely. "we know that one of the great weapons the neapolitans have used against us is, that we are heretics and atheists; and were we to occupy the church, reports would circulate through the island that we were desecrators." "they spread that sort of reports, whether there is any foundation for it or not, rubini; besides, at palermo we used several of the churches as hospitals for the wounded. but there would be no occasion for us to live and take our meals in the church, or to interfere with the services. if we keep half a dozen sentries round the village, we need not fear any surprise during the daytime, but could go on as usual in the houses where we are quartered, taking our meals there, and so on; then at night we could retire to the church, and sleep there securely with a couple of sentries posted at the door." "i think that is a very good idea; at any rate, we will tell the priest when we go in to breakfast, and hear what he says. he is a good fellow, i think--though, of course, his hands are very much tied by the position he is placed in." after they had eaten their breakfast, rubini went with frank to the priest's room. "padre," he said, "we don't like our position here. it is certain that the brigands have no reason to love us, and that after the numbers who have been put out of the way down below, they must be thirsting for revenge." "that is certainly to be expected," the priest said gravely. "therefore we think it is by no means unlikely that several of these bands will unite in an attack on one of our posts." "i hinted as much as that to you last night." "you did, padre; and the more i think of it, the more probable it seems to me that this is what they will do. it may be this post, or another; but i feel that, although we could beat off any attack in the daytime, it would be most serious were they to fall upon us at night, when we are scattered throughout the village." "it would certainly be so, signor. the consequences would, i think, be most grave." "therefore, padre, we intend to retire to the church every evening." "between ourselves, captain rubini, i am not sorry that you have made that proposal, or rather, have announced to me your intention of doing so. you will understand that it was a suggestion that could not come from me, and that i bow to your decision, having no means of resisting it; that being understood, i can say, frankly, that i think the plan a wise one. i hope that you do not intend to occupy it during the day, nor to eat and drink there, but simply to pass the night in the shelter of its walls, and that at all other times our services can be held as usual?" "certainly; that is our intention. we wish to put the people to no inconvenience, and to abstain, as far as possible, from doing aught that would hurt their feelings, by, as they would consider it, desecrating the church. things will simply go on as they do now in the daytime, but at nightfall we shall march into the church, and place two sentries at the door; and in the morning we shall leave it, after placing everything in order, as far as we can, at a quarter to six--so that you can hold your morning mass at the usual hour." "i am well pleased with the arrangement. should my people or others complain of your thus using the church, i can say that it was no proposal of mine, and that you did not ask my opinion on the subject; but simply informed me of your intention, which, of course, i have no power to combat. i may tell you that i have no sure intelligence whatever that the brigands meditate such an attempt, either here or at other villages, where parties of your troops have gone; but knowing the people as i do, i think it very likely that such an attack may be made. i myself, a well-wisher of your general and of his great movement, am convinced that the people can never be raised from their present condition, so long as we are subject to the government of naples. i believe that, with freedom, the island would advance, not only in prosperity, but in orderly life and all the blessings of civilisation; and none will hail more heartily than i the establishment of a constitutional government, such as is enjoyed by that portion of italy under the rule of victor emmanuel. still, so long as things exist as they do in the mountains, it would do more harm than good, were i to declare my feelings. i speak not of personal danger, but i should lose all power and influence over my flock; therefore, though heartily wishing you well, i cannot openly aid you. i shall on sunday speak from the pulpit, pointing out that the conduct of your soldiers shows that the reports that have been circulated regarding them are untrue; that they come here with no evil intentions towards us, and that i trust when they retire they will carry with them the good wishes of all; that i hope above all things, nothing will occur that will cause trouble, still less evil to our guests, for not only have they given no occasion for animosity, but if any harm befall them here, we may be sure that their general at bronte will send up a strong body of troops, who will probably burn the village to the ground, and shoot every man they catch. i should say, signor, that my words would be more likely to have effect were some of your soldiers, and perhaps one of yourselves, to attend mass daily; this would show that you were not, as they have been told, despisers of all religion, and go far to remove the unfavourable impression with which i cannot deny that you are regarded." "the suggestion is a good one, sir," rubini said, "and i will see that it is carried out. i will come each morning. captain percival is an englishman, and what you would call a heretic, so he will, i know, undertake to be on duty about that hour. "then we quite understand each other, padre: openly you protest against our using the church, privately you approve of our doing so?" "my protest will not be a strong one," the priest said, with a smile; "indeed, i shall tell my people that, although i have thought it my duty to protest formally, i cannot but see that it is best that it should be so, as it will ensure peace and tranquillity in the village, and will do away with the risks of broils when men sit drinking after dark in wine-shops." when the church bell rang for the midday mass, the villagers were surprised to see rubini enter the edifice, and that some twenty of his men straggled in, not as a body ordered to take part in a service, but as if it was their regular custom as individuals to attend service. before the bell ceased ringing, frank also went in, and sat down by rubini; when they left together at the close of a short service rubini said, "i did not expect to see you, percival." "why not?" frank replied: "if there were a protestant church, of course i should go to it, but as there is not, i come here. surely it is better to say one's prayers in a church of a religion that on all its main points differs but slightly from our own, than to abstain from going to church at all. and now, what are we to do with ourselves? i suppose we can hardly start for a long walk?" "i should think not," rubini said grimly--"at least, not without taking twenty men with us. it is as likely as not that we are watched from the forest, and if we were to go out alone, we might be pounced upon by fellows lying in ambush for us, or at best get a bullet through our head." "at best?" frank laughed. "certainly at best," rubini replied gravely. "it would be better to die with a bullet through one's head than to fall into the hands of these vindictive scoundrels, who would certainly select some much slower and more painful way of putting an end to our existence. no, there must be no walking about beyond the edge of the village." "then, in fact, rubini, our journey up here is to be a mere useless promenade?" "i am afraid so. there is only one hope. it may be taken as a fact that in every band of scoundrels--whether they are robbers or conspirators or bandits--there are sure to be one or two discontented spirits, men who think that they ought to have been chosen as chiefs, that their advice has been slighted, or that their share of the plunder is insufficient; and should an opportunity occur, men like these are always ready to turn traitors, if they think that they can do so with safety. i do not suppose that the bands in these mountains are any exception; indeed, the chances of dissent are larger than usual, for we may be sure that both the brigands and these men who have been sent over from the mainland to foment discontent and create a counter-revolution in favour of a republic are greatly dissatisfied with the result of their joint undertaking. the prompt step garibaldi took in sending bixio's division here must have upset all their plans. the guerrillas, no doubt, have taken a considerable amount of booty; but this could have been done without the aid of the strangers. the latter counted on doing great things with the assistance of the brigands. they have failed altogether. a good many of both sections have been killed; and i should imagine, at the present time, that there is not much love lost between them. "it is therefore quite possible that some of these men are perfectly ready to betray the rest; and i regard it as on the cards that i may get a message to the effect that one of them will, if promised a pardon and a handsome reward, conduct us to the rendezvous where the band is gathered. in that case we should not return empty-handed. in some respects it is better that we should get at them that way than in any other; for the knowledge that one of their bands had been destroyed by treachery on the part of a member would cause a feeling of distrust and uneasiness in every gang in the mountains. every man would begin to suspect every other man of being a traitor; and although the fear of being either followed or killed, or of being denounced as a traitor and murdered, perhaps days, perhaps weeks, perhaps even months afterwards, but certainly some day or other, would keep the bands together, yet they would lose all heart in the business; quarrels would break out, desperate fights would take place, and many of their parties would finally break up; while the others would, for a considerable time at least, undertake no fresh enterprises." four days passed without incident. an hour after sunset the men marched to the church, the muskets were piled inside, and they were then permitted to sit on the steps outside smoking and talking until nine o'clock, when sentries were posted, and the men lay down inside. late on the following afternoon, as rubini with a sergeant was at the end of the village, a woman, standing half-hidden in some bushes a short distance away, motioned to him that she wanted to speak to him. "there might be half a dozen men hidden in that bush," rubini said. "let us turn off and go to that shed, and beckon to her to come to us. if we stand close to it, no one will see her speaking to us." the woman hesitated for some time, evidently afraid to leave the shelter of the bushes. then, making a sign to rubini that she would join them presently, she went back into the wood. in a short time she came out on the other side and walked a couple of hundred yards away; then she turned and made a wide circuit, keeping as much as possible in shelter, and at last joined them. she was a wild-looking creature: her hair was in disorder; her face bore signs of tears; her clothes were torn in several places, as if she had run recklessly through a thick wood. she might have cried as she came; but at present her flushed face, her fierce eyes, her tightly compressed lips, and her quick breathing, spoke of passion rather than grief. "what do you want with me?" rubini asked. [illustration: "in her excitement she fell on her knees"] "i have come to ask for vengeance," the woman panted. "prato has this afternoon shot my husband, and for what? merely because he said that if the band were not going to do anything, he would return home. that was all; and prato drew his pistol and shot him. my antonio! i cannot bring him to life again, but i can avenge him. signor, the band of prato, the most merciless and most famous of our chiefs, lies but five miles away; i will lead you to the place, but you must swear to me that you will show him no mercy. if you take him prisoner, he will escape: no judge in the island dare convict him, no jailor would dare keep his door shut. i must have his life-blood; unless you will swear this i will not take you to him. as for the others, i care not, but i should like them all to be killed, for they laughed when prato shot my antonio like a dog; but i bargain not for them. do as you will with them, but prato must die. i ask no reward--i would not touch blood money; i ask only for vengeance," and in her excitement she fell on her knees, and waving her arms above her head, poured down a string of maledictions upon the brigand chief. "i can promise you that he shall not be taken prisoner," rubini said. "the villain has committed a score of murders; but he might escape." "he will fight to the last," the woman said; "he is a devil, but he is no coward. but he would find it difficult to escape. his fires are lit at the foot of a crag, and if you approach him on both sides and in front, he must fight." "how many men has he?" "thirty-seven, counting himself, signor; but you will take them by surprise, and can shoot down many before they can fire a shot." "what do you think, zippo?" rubini asked, drawing his comrade two or three paces aside. "the man is one of the most notorious brigands in the mountains. there has been a big reward offered for him, dead or alive, for years past; it would be a grand service if we could destroy him and his band, and we should earn the gratitude of all the towns and villages below there." "yes, it would be a grand exploit," the sergeant said eagerly, "for us to accomplish what the neapolitan troops and carabinieri have so long failed to do. per baccho, 'tis a glorious stroke of luck." "that is what i think," rubini said. then he went to the woman. "we are ready to aid you to avenge your husband," he said. "you know your way through the forest in the dark?" "i know it well. prato's band has been in this neighbourhood for months past, and i have been in here scores of times to buy provisions. there are two or three paths by which you might go, and i know all of them; if you like you can carry a lantern until you are within half a mile of them. the forest goes well-nigh up to the cliff." "i will not start till nine o'clock," rubini said. "at that time my men withdraw into the church; but we can move out by the door of the vestry behind, and no one in the village will dream that any of us have left the place. will you be at that door five minutes after the clock strikes?" "i will be there," the woman said fiercely, turning and shaking her fist in the direction from which she had come. as frank was strolling up the street he met the two friends, for zippo was a cousin of the captain. "i have some very important news to give you, percival," rubini said, as they met him; "but i won't tell you here, for the people loitering about might notice that i was talking seriously, and suspect that something out of the way had occurred. let us walk down quietly to the other end of the village, and out of earshot of any of the houses; until we get there let us chat of other matters. your arm still goes on well?" "it could not be better. five or six days of this mountain air has done me no end of good. i have not felt a single twinge in my arm, and i believe i could use it for all ordinary purposes now with perfect safety." "that is a pretty little child, isn't she, if her face were but clean? i should doubt if it has ever been really washed. i should certainly say that her hair has never been combed. there: the little beggar knows we are speaking of her. did you see how she scowled? she has evidently picked up the popular sentiment concerning us." when fairly beyond the village rubini told his story. "it will be splendid," he said. "why, the capture of prato would cause almost as much sensation in sicily as the taking of palermo!" "yes, it would be a grand thing," frank agreed; "but are you quite sure, rubini, that her story is a true one, and not a feint to draw you into an ambush?" "i am perfectly convinced of the woman's earnestness, percival, and so would you have been had you seen her. do you not agree with me, zippo?" "certainly. i have not the slightest doubt in my mind as to the fact that she was speaking the truth." "well, if you are both perfectly satisfied," frank said, "there can be no doubt that it would be a great service to destroy this fellow's band. how many men do you propose to take with you?" "i should certainly take as strong a force as possible. these brigands are desperate fellows when cornered." "well, there would be no occasion to leave many men with me," frank said; "as you would no doubt get away unnoticed, it would be supposed that the whole force is as usual in the church. if you leave me five good men i shall be quite satisfied, and when you have gone we will barricade the doors, and could hold out stoutly for a long time. there is very little woodwork about the place, and if we were driven into the belfry they could not burn us out. however, it might be a wise precaution if you were to tell three or four of your men to buy a couple of loaves apiece and a skin of wine; as it will be dusk before they go as usual to the church steps, they could bring these with them without being noticed." "i will do as you suggest, percival, but i really think that you are carrying precaution beyond what is necessary." "it will not be an expensive precaution," frank replied, with a smile. "then you think five men would be sufficient?" rubini asked. "so far as i am concerned, i do not see why you should not take them all. i was ordered to assume the command of any men left here, but that did not imply that your force was always to be broken up; certainly i am willing to remain here by myself. i would infinitely rather go with you, but a night march through a dark forest would be more serious for me than going into a pitched battle, for if i were to trip and fall, i should certainly smash my arm again. i do not see why you should leave any here: five men or even ten would be of no great use, and for a business like yours every musket may be of advantage. i shall certainly feel very anxious about you while you are away. i can quite believe that, as you say, the woman was perfectly in earnest; but when she was missed from that camp, after the murder of her husband, the suspicion that she had come here to tell us where they were encamped might very well occur to them, and you might find them vigilant and prepared for you." "that may be so," rubini agreed. "well, then, as the villagers here will not know that we have left until we are back again, i think i will take forty-five men and leave you with five. you shall pick the men." "i should like to have sarto and maffio, if you can spare them; as to the other three i leave it to you entirely." "yes; you can have those two. they are both thoroughly good men, as well as good fellows; as for the others, i will pick you out three of the best of those who last joined us. i should like as many of the old hands with me as possible, for i know that they will keep their heads, whatever happens." it was not until the men were all gathered round the church door, as usual, that rubini told them of the expedition on which they were about to start. the news excited general satisfaction. there had been little doing since palermo was taken, and the old hands were all eager for the fray, while those who had more recently joined burned to show that they were worthy to be comrades of garibaldi's first followers. at nine o'clock all came into the church as usual, and ten minutes later the detachment, with the exception of frank's little command, moved silently out through the vestry door. "so we are to stay behind with you?" sarto said, as he and maffio joined frank, who had taken a seat and was thinking over the course that should be pursued if rubini's enterprise turned out badly. "rubini said that you specially asked for us, which was no doubt a compliment, but one which, if you don't mind our saying so, we would gladly have dispensed with. it will be a nuisance indeed watching here all night, while the others are engaged in a business quite after our own heart." "i was sure that you would feel rather annoyed," frank said; "but i should not have liked to be here without at least two men on whom i know i can rely to the last." "but what can there be for us to do?" sarto asked, in some surprise at the tone in which frank spoke. "i don't know; that is just what i don't know, sarto. i acknowledge that i by no means like this expedition. rubini and zippo are both certain that this woman is acting in perfect good faith. i did not see her, and therefore i can only take their opinion, but she may have been only acting. you know how passionate these women are; and it seems to me possible that, thinking what she would have done had her husband been shot by prato, she might have worked herself up into such a state that no one could doubt the reality of her story. of course, i do not say that it was so--i only say that it was possible. in the next place, even if her story is perfectly true, she may have been seen to leave the camp, or, if she passed out unobserved by any of them, her absence would be noticed, and she might be followed and her interview with rubini observed; and in that case the band may either have moved away when they got the news, or, what is more likely, be prepared to attack rubini's column on its way. i mentioned the possibility to rubini that the woman's absence might have been noticed and the band be uneasy in consequence, and on the look-out; and although it in no way shook his determination to take advantage of her offer, he would, i am sure, take every precaution in his power. still, there is no saying how things will turn out. it may be that, if the brigands anticipate an attack, they may by this time have sent to another party to tell them that the greater part of our detachment will be away, and invite them to come and finish with the men left here, while they themselves tackle those who have gone out against them." "it certainly looks possible in the way you put it," maffio said, "though i hope it may not turn out so. however, i see that we shall, at any rate, have something to think about while they are away. so that is what that bread and wine you brought in was for? rubini asked us, and two others, to bring in a couple of loaves each, and the other to bring in a skin of wine; of course, we thought that it was for the use of the expedition." "i asked him to do so, maffio. he rather laughed at the idea, but it seemed to me possible that they might be of use here while he was away; and at any rate i will guarantee that the food shall not be wasted." "six of us, including yourself, could not hold this church long?" "not against a great effort. but even if they should take advantage of the absence of part of our force to attack us, they would not know how strong a party had been left behind, and would be cautious for a bit; but i do not suppose that we should be able to resist a determined onslaught. i thought that we might take to the tower: we could hold that for hours." "yes; we could do that," sarto said confidently. "well, i don't at all suppose that we are going to be disturbed, but it is a satisfaction to feel that we are not altogether out of the affair." as usual, a dozen candles had been lighted in different parts of the church as soon as it was dark. the three genoese, who had joined the company after the capture of palermo, looked sulky and downcast at being left behind, and frank called to them. "i have no doubt that you are disappointed, gentlemen," he said; "but you should really take it as a compliment. i asked captain rubini to leave me, in addition to my two friends here, the three best men he could pick out from those who had not formed part of the original force, and i have no doubt that he has done so. i may tell you that i consider it possible, i do not say probable, that we may be attacked, and we will first see what steps should be taken in that case. i have not been up to the tower: have any of you?" none of them had mounted there. "then let us investigate," he said. the campanile stood at the north-west corner of the church; it had an exterior door, and another opening into the church. taking a couple of candles, they entered by the latter, and mounted a stone staircase leading to the lower story of the tower; beyond this a wooden staircase led to the rough wooden floor under the bells, and another to the flat terrace above. "the first thing to do," frank said, "is to block up the outside door; at any rate, let us have a look at it." it was roughly made, but very strong. "the door is well enough, but i doubt whether this lock would not give under heavy blows." "we might pile chairs behind it," sarto suggested. "i would rather not do that, if we can help it," frank replied. "they may burn the door down, and the less combustibles there are the better; however, if we can find nothing else, we must use them." nothing could be found, and frank then said, "i think that we can manage with one chair." the others looked puzzled. "we will cut up the legs and back into six-inch pieces, sharpen them into wedges, and drive them in all round the door: i think that would withstand any battering until the door itself splintered." they all fell to work at once, and in a quarter of an hour a score of wedges were driven in. "now we will do the same at the bottom of the church door itself, and put in a few as high as we can reach on each side; that will detain them some time before it yields." when this was done, sarto said, "what next, percival?" "the only other thing to be done in the way of defence is to carry all the chairs upstairs to the first story of the tower, to make a barricade there," maffio remarked. "yes, we might make a barricade of them half way up the stairs, but my main object is to get rid of them here. if they found they could not storm the stairs, they might pile all the chairs in the middle of the church and set them on fire--they are the only things that will burn; and although the flames would scarcely mount to the roof, sparks would fly up, and as there is sure to be a lot of dust and soot on the beams there, which might catch fire, we should be burnt out." "well, at any rate there will be no great trouble in doing that," sarto said; "though i should hardly think that they would attempt to burn the church down. the brigands have no respect for life, but they are not without their superstitions, and might be afraid to burn a church, though they would cut half a dozen throats without a scruple." "yes; but a portion of the band are no doubt composed of revolutionists from the mainland--fellows who have no scruples of any sort, and who, as the men of the same kind did in paris seventy years ago, would desecrate a church in every conceivable manner, for, as a rule, they hate religion as they hate authority." the chairs were accordingly carried up and stowed on the wooden floor beneath the bells. "now," frank said, "i should like to see how this ladder is fastened, and if we can move it." this, however, they found would be well-nigh impossible. it was over thirty feet from the stone floor to the next story, while that in which the bells hung was but some twenty feet. the ladder was very solid and heavy, and as only two could get at it from above, it could not be lifted up that way. "we can manage it," frank said, after thinking for a minute. "we can pull the bell ropes up through their holes, and fasten them somewhere above the middle of the ladder; then, with three of us pulling on each, we could certainly raise it without much difficulty. we should not have to pull it very high--six feet would be ample. if they want to smoke us out, they must bring wood from outside, which will not be easy to do under our fire. now we will leave one on watch above. he shall be relieved every hour. do you take the first watch, pedro. if you hear any stir in the village below, come down and tell us at once; but, above all, listen for distant firing. it is five miles to the spot where the bandits are, but on a still night like this it would certainly be heard here." he and the other four men then descended to the first floor. here those who were to take the next turn of duty said, "if you do not want us further, captain, we will sit here and light our pipes, if you have no objection." "no objection at all. i don't think that i should like to smoke myself in the church below, but that is a matter of opinion; but certainly no one could object to its being done in this detached tower." then, with sarto and maffio, he went down into the church. chapter xii. an ambuscade. "the others will have the laugh at us when they come back," sarto said. "that will in no way trouble me," frank said. "it has given us a couple of hours' work, and it has passed the time away. if all has gone well, we shall hear the firing very soon; we may be sure that they won't be able to go fast through the wood, especially as they will have to be careful not to make any noise. of course, it is all up hill too, and will be as dark as pitch under the trees; they will have almost to crawl along the last mile. i should not be surprised if it were another hour before they are in position to attack. and now that we are prepared to repel any attack upon us, and to hold out, if necessary, for three days or even more on the provisions we have got, we ought to consider another alternative." "what other alternative can there be?" maffio asked. "let us suppose--and it is as well to suppose the worst--that rubini falls into an ambush. it makes no difference whether the woman leads him into one, or whether she has been trapped and the ambush laid without her knowledge. suppose that they are ambushed and that none of them get back here?" an exclamation broke from the others. "i said that we will suppose the worst," frank went on. "this man prato, who is an old hand at such matters, would not improbably, if he expected that rubini would come to attack him, have at once sent off to another band, or to men who sometimes act with him, and instead of their meeting thirty-eight men, they may meet sixty. in that case we might calculate that a third of rubini's force would fall at the first volley; there they would be in the forest, without a guide, in the dark, surrounded by twice their number of men well acquainted with the place, and accustomed to traversing it at night. now i ask you frankly, do you think that many of them, or, indeed, any of them, would be likely to get back here? they might not all be killed; some might hide in the woods, and make their way down the mountain to-morrow, but the chance of any of them returning here seems to me to be small indeed, if things turn out as i have been saying." "but you don't think, you can't think, percival----" sarto said, in a tone of horror. "i don't say that i think so, sarto. i only say that it seems to me to be possible; and, situated as we are, it is always as well to see what, if even the most unlikely thing takes place, could be done. let us suppose that the detachment has been cut to pieces: what is our look-out here? we can defend the place, or rather we can defend ourselves, for three or four days; but what would be the benefit of that? if the news got down to bronte, it would be necessary to send two or three companies up here to rescue us. if, as is very probable, no news got down there, we should have to surrender; and we know what that would mean, especially as, assuredly, we should have killed a good many of the brigands in the course of the fighting. thus, then, nothing would be gained by our resistance. i was appointed to command that portion of troops left here, in case of rubini going away in pursuit of brigands with the rest. i do not suppose that it was ever contemplated that only five men would be left behind, still that does not alter the case. the idea was, that the village might be attacked during the absence of part of the force, and that those here should maintain themselves until rubini returned. but in the event of such a disaster as we are supposing, so far from there being any advantage in holding this church, it would be a serious disadvantage; for we should risk our lives without any point whatever in our doing so." "that is certainly true; but in that case, why should we have made these preparations for defence?" "simply because we hope, and have every reason to hope, that rubini will return, and we are prepared to hold out until he does so. but, once assured that the detachment will not come back, the whole matter is changed." "but how are we to be assured?" "ah! that is a very difficult question to answer. as long as there is the slightest possibility of any part, however small, of the detachment returning, we are bound to hold on here. but, when can we feel certain that this will not be the case, our duty would be to consult our own safety by retreating if possible to bronte." at this moment the sentry on the campanile ran in. "i heard a sudden outburst of firing, captain percival, and it is continuing." followed by all the others, frank ran up to the top of the tower. there was no doubt that a tough fight was going on: the reports of the muskets came in quick succession; sometimes there would be a short pause, and then half a dozen shots would ring out close together. for three or four minutes not a word was spoken; then, as the reports became less frequent, sarto exclaimed, "it is nearly over: rubini has done his work." frank was silent, and sarto added, "do you not think so, percival?" "i hope so," frank replied, "but i am very much afraid that it is not so. had rubini taken the brigands completely by surprise, there would have been one crashing volley, then he would have rushed in with the bayonet, and it would have been all over in two minutes. some of the brigands might have escaped, but there can have been no pursuit, for in the darkness in the forest there would have been no chance whatever of overtaking men perfectly familiar with it. no, i think that they have failed in taking them by surprise, and if they did fail to do so, the brigands would either have moved off, in which case there would have been no fight at all, or have laid an ambush for our party, which would account for the heavy firing we have heard. whether the ambush was successful, or whether rubini has beaten his assailants off, is uncertain." the others saw the justness of his reasoning, and remained silent. an occasional shot was still heard. "what do you think that means?" maffio asked--for both he and sarto were beginning to feel a profound respect for the opinion of their companion. "it means, of course, that one party or the other is pursuing fugitives, and i am afraid that it is a bad sign, for, as i have just said, our men would hardly try and chase these brigands through the wood they know very well." they waited another five minutes. still shots were occasionally heard. the conviction that frank's worst anticipations had been but too surely verified, forced itself upon the others. "will you stay here a short time longer?" frank said to the others; "i will go down into the church. i should like to think over quietly what we had best do." he walked up and down the church. it was a tremendous responsibility for a lad not yet seventeen to bear. some of rubini's party had escaped, and might be making their way back in hopes of finding shelter and safety. what would be their feelings if they arrived and found the party gone? on the other hand, defend themselves as well as they might, six men must finally succumb before a determined attack by a large party of ruffians exulting over their victory and thirsting for complete vengeance. but by the time his companions returned from above he had made up his mind as to the plan that had best be adopted. "we will take a middle course," he said. "we will leave the church, and conceal ourselves within a short distance of the door into the vestry. one of us must hide close to it, so that if any of our comrades come up and knock at the door for admission, he can bring them to us. we can then learn what has happened. if even eight or ten have escaped, we will return to the church and hold it; if only one or two, we will, when the brigands arrive and there is no chance of others coming, start for bronte." "that is a capital plan," sarto exclaimed; and a murmur from the others showed that they too warmly approved. "there is no hurry," frank went on. "we will eat a good meal before we start, then there will be no occasion to burden ourselves with provisions. before leaving, we will light fresh candles: there are four or five pounds in the vestry. we will leave four alight in each floor of the tower, and the rest in different parts of the church, so that, when the brigands do arrive, they will think that we are watchful and well prepared for them. it is not likely they will know exactly what strength rubini had with him, but will think that we have at least ten or twelve men with us, and will be sure to hesitate a little before they make an attack. they will take some little time to burst in the great doors; and even the door of the vestry is strong enough to bear a good deal of battering before they break that in, so that we shall get a good long start of them. of course they may pursue, but we can keep on the road for the first half-mile, and then turn off and make our way through the forest. we can't go very far wrong, as it is always a descent; besides, for aught they will know, we may have been gone a couple of hours before they get here. i think in that way we shall have done our duty to our comrades, and at the same time secured our own safety, for we have no right to throw away our lives when we can still do some work for italy." "it could not be better," maffio said. "in that way we shall have the consolation of knowing that none of our friends, who have been wounded, have dragged themselves here after we had left only to find that they were deserted; while on the other hand it does away with the necessity of our throwing away our lives altogether uselessly. i revert to my former idea, percival. if ever i have sons, i will send them to one of your great schools in england. it is clear that the life there and your rough games make men of you." they first sat down and ate a hearty meal of bread and wine, and then fresh candles were lighted and placed as frank had directed. then they left the church, locking the vestry door behind them. sarto lay down behind a tombstone ten yards from the door, and the others took their places behind the low wall that ran round the church-yard. after waiting an hour frank returned to sarto. "i am going," he said, "to conceal myself at the end of the village, close enough to the road to hear anything that is said by people coming along. if, as i hope, they may be some of our men, i will join them and bring them on here, if not i will make my way here at once, and will give a low whistle. directly you hear me, retire and join us. it will give us a few minutes' extra time, for you may be sure that when they see the church lighted up, those who first arrive will wait for the rest before running the risk of a shot from the tower. when all are gathered no doubt there will be a good deal of talk as to how they had best attack it." leaving sarto, frank made his way through the gardens until he arrived at the end of the village, and then sat down behind a low wall, close to the road. in half an hour he heard footsteps, and judged that six or eight men were coming from the forest. "there is no doubt they are on the watch there," one of them said; "the windows in the tower are lit up,--we shall have some work to do before we finish with them. they fought bravely--i will say that for them; and although half their number fell at our first volley, they killed eight or ten of our men, and wounded as many more, before, when there were only about half a dozen of them left, they broke through us and ran. it was lucky that phillipo's band arrived in time, for notwithstanding the surprise, i doubt whether we should have beaten them, had we been alone. it was a good thought of prato to send young vico to follow that woman, and that he saw her talking to the officer." frank could hear no more, but rising quietly, he retraced his steps at a run, and as soon as he joined his companions gave a low whistle, which in a minute brought sarto to his side. "it is as i feared," he said: "they laid an ambush for rubini, and shot down half his men at once; the rest kept together and fought till all but six or seven were killed, and these burst through them and took to flight; and i am afraid that those shots we heard told that some even of these were overtaken and killed. now let us be going; there were only about eight men in the party who first came along, and we may be sure that nothing will be attempted until the rest arrive. the men had noticed our lights in the tower, and evidently expected that we should sell our lives dearly; at any rate, we can calculate upon at least half an hour before they break into the church and find that we have left." they were obliged to go cautiously before they gained the road beyond the village, and then they broke into a trot. "half an hour will mean something like four miles," frank said; "and as it is not likely that they can run much faster than we are going, we may safely calculate that they will not overtake us for over an hour after they do start, and by that time we shall be well within five miles of bronte. indeed, with the slope in our favour, i am not sure that we may not calculate upon reaching the town itself; they certainly ought not to be able to run fifteen miles while we are running eleven." "if they do we should deserve to be caught," maffio said; "but i should think that they would not follow us far, as, for anything they can tell, we may have left the church a couple of hours ago." there were few words spoken as they ran steadily along. the thought of the slaughter of so many of their friends oppressed them all, and the fact that they had personally escaped was, at present, a small consolation. frank had not been long enough with the company to make the acquaintance of many of the men, but he felt the loss of rubini extremely. at genoa, during the voyage, and on the march to palermo, they had been constantly together, and the older man had treated him with as much cordiality and kindness as if he had been a young brother. frank regretted now that he had not even more strongly urged his doubts as to the expediency of the expedition, though he felt that, even had he done so, his remonstrances would have been unavailing, so convinced were rubini and zippo of the sincerity and good faith of the woman. as it seemed, in this respect they had been right, and he had not pressed more strongly upon them the probability of her being followed when she left the brigands after the murder of her husband. it was so natural a thing that this should be so, that he wondered it had not struck him at once. had he urged the point, rubini might have listened to him, and his fatal expedition might not have taken place. it seemed to him a heartbreaking affair, and as he ran he wiped away more than one tear that ran down his cheeks. after keeping on at the same speed for three or four miles, frank heard, by the hard breathing of his companions, that their powers were failing; he himself was running quite easily, his school training being of good service to him, and after the long runs at hare and hounds across country, four miles down hill was a trifle to him. he had, too, the advantage of not having to carry a musket and ammunition. "we had better walk for a few hundred yards and get our breath again," he said. and the order was thankfully obeyed. "are you ready to trot on?" he asked, five minutes later; and on a general assent being given, they again broke into a run. the more he thought of it, the more persuaded frank was that no pursuit would be set on foot. doubtless, the first step of the brigands would be to surround the church, and to place strong parties at both doors; they would therefore know that the church must have been deserted for at least half an hour before they obtained an entry, while possibly it might have been two or three hours before; so on finding the place empty their impulse would be to go to the wine-shops and celebrate their victory, rather than to start upon a pursuit which offered small prospects indeed of success. every few minutes they halted for a moment to listen for the sound of pursuing feet, but everything was still and quiet; and so confident did they become as to their safety, that the last three or four miles down into bronte were performed at a walk. "i must go and report to bixio," frank said, as they entered the town. "you had better find a shelter somewhere." "there is no occasion for that," maffio replied. "the sky has been getting lighter for some little time, and it must be nearly five o'clock. it was past two when we started." "i will wait for another half-hour," frank said, "before i rouse bixio; he is always out by six, and bad news will keep." shortly before that hour he went to the general's quarters. the house was already astir. "the general will be down in a few minutes, captain," an orderly said. "i called him a quarter of an hour ago." in two or three minutes bixio came down. "have you any news?" he asked hastily, when he saw frank, whose downcast face struck him at once. "yes, general; and very bad news." "come in here," bixio said, opening the door of a sitting-room. "now, what is it?" "i grieve to have to report, sir, that i have arrived here with only sarto, maffio, and three other men of the detachment, and that i fear captain rubini and the whole of the rest of the men have been killed." bixio started. "all killed!" he repeated, almost incredulously. "i trust that you are mistaken. what has happened?" frank briefly related the circumstances. "this is sad indeed--terrible," the general said, when he had brought his story to a conclusion. "rubini's loss is a grievous one; he was a good officer, and was greatly liked and trusted by us all; there were good men, too, among his company. he had fifteen men of the thousand among them. and you say this woman did not betray them?" "no; the men i overheard, distinctly said that she was a traitress, and as soon as she was missed by them she was followed, and her meeting with the officer observed." "but what took you out beyond the village, captain percival? you have told me the main facts of this most unfortunate expedition: please give me the full details of what you did after they had left, and how you came to escape." "i felt uneasy from the first," frank said. "directly rubini told me about the woman, i suggested that she might be merely acting a part, in order to lead them into an ambuscade; but both rubini and zippo, who was with him when he met her, were absolutely convinced of her good faith. "i also suggested that, even if they were right, the woman might possibly have been followed. her disappearance after the murder of her husband would be almost certain to excite suspicion that she intended to avenge herself by bringing our detachment down upon them. i communicated this suspicion to sarto and maffio, and we at once set to work to make the church defensible." he then related in detail the measures they had taken, and how he became convinced, by the sound of the distant conflict, that rubini and his party had fallen into the ambuscade and been destroyed. "for some time i could not make up my mind what course to adopt, sir: we might have defended the tower for two or three days; but it was by no means certain--in fact, it was very improbable--that anything of what was going on would reach your ears. on the other hand, i could not withdraw my little party, as, even if my worst suspicions were correct, some of rubini's men might have escaped and might make their way back to the church." he then proceeded to explain the plan he had adopted, and how it had been carried out. "i do not know whether i have acted rightly," he concluded. "it was a terrible responsibility, but i can only say that i consulted with sarto and maffio, who have had far more experience than i, and that they both approved of my plan. i hope, general, you do not think that i was wrong." "certainly not--certainly not. your position was a most difficult one, and your preparations for defence were excellent; the alternatives that you had to choose between when you became convinced that rubini had been defeated were equally painful. if you stayed and defended the place, i may almost say you would have thrown away the lives of yourself and the five men with you. if you went, any wounded men straggling back from the forest would have found neither friends nor refuge. the middle course you adopted was admirable. you would at once have saved any poor fellows who might arrive, while you ensured the safety of your little party. by illuminating the church you secured for yourself a long start; and by going out so as to overhear the conversation of the first party of brigands who entered the village, you were able to assure yourself that it was useless staying longer in hopes of any survivors of the expedition coming in. "i have received a message from garibaldi, ordering me to move to taormina, on the sea-coast. he has defeated bosco at milazzo; and the neapolitan general and his troops have been permitted to take ship for naples. he said that if i had not concluded my work here i could remain for another week, as it would probably be a considerable time before the preparations made for invading calabria were completed. i was intending to send off some messengers this morning to recall all the outlying detachments. that i shall do still; but i shall certainly remain here three or four days longer, in the hope that some of rubini's party may have escaped. if i thought there was the smallest chance of laying hands on this scoundrel prato and his band, i would march with a couple of hundred men into the mountains. but we may be sure that he did not stop more than an hour or two at the village, after he learned that your party had escaped; and by to-morrow morning they may be fifty miles away, on the other side of etna. however, as soon as our affair is over, i shall urge upon garibaldi the necessity for sending a strong force into the mountains to put down brigandage, and especially to destroy prato's band." the disaster that had befallen rubini's column cast a great gloom over the brigade: not a man but would gladly have undergone any amount of fatigue to avenge his comrades; but all felt the impossibility of searching the great tract of forest which extended over the larger part of the slopes of etna. bixio however, determined to send off a strong party to find and bury the dead, and two hours later a detachment a hundred strong left bronte. their orders were to attack the brigands if they found them in the village; if they had left, however, they were not to pursue. they were to sleep there, and in the morning to compel two or three of the villagers to guide them to the scene of conflict, where they were to find and bury the dead. every precaution was to be observed, although it was regarded as certain that the brigands would not have remained so near the village, but would only stop there a few hours, and then place as great a distance as possible between it and them. frank had offered to accompany the party, but bixio refused to allow him to do so. "you have had a sleepless night, and the anxiety you have suffered is quite sufficient excitement for a convalescent. you could do no good by going there, and had best lie down and take a few hours' sleep." before the party started frank asked the captain in command to see if his horse had been carried off. "it was in a shed adjoining the priest's house," he said; "and it may still be there. the brigands would not be likely to make many inquiries; and when they discovered that we had gone, probably made off directly they had eaten their supper; for had we, as might have been the case so far as they knew, started for bronte soon after rubini left, it would have been possible for reinforcements to reach the village within an hour of daybreak. even if one of the villagers told them that the horse was there--which is not likely, for the whole place must have been in a ferment at the news--the brigands may not have cared to carry it off, as it would be useless to them in a journey over ground covered with forest and broken up by ravines and gorges." the detachment returned two days later, bringing with it, to frank's satisfaction, his horse and saddlery. they had been to the scene of the conflict, and had found and buried all the bodies with the exception of a few, who must either have escaped or have been killed at a considerable distance from the spot where they were attacked. the brigands had, as frank had expected, left the village before daybreak. they had on arriving opened fire at the windows of the church; and a quarter of an hour later, finding that no reply was made, had endeavoured to force an entry. the great door, however, had defied their efforts, and when at last they obtained access by breaking in the door of the vestry, more than an hour had been wasted. the discovery that the church was untenanted had greatly disappointed and disquieted them, and after carousing for a short time they hastily left. early on the day after the return of frank and his comrades, one of the missing party reached the town: he was utterly worn out and broken down, having apparently wandered for thirty-six hours in the forest in a state of semi-delirium. he had at last quite accidentally stumbled upon a small village, and after being fed and cared for, had been brought down to bronte in a cart. he was, he said, convinced that he was the only survivor of the fight. the party had arrived within, as they believed, a quarter of a mile of the brigands' lurking-place, when a whistle was heard, and from the trees on both sides of the narrow path a volley was fired, and half at least of the party dropped. rubini, he believed, was among those who fell; at least he did not hear his voice afterwards. zippo had rallied the men, who, gathering together, endeavoured to fight their way through their assailants. what the effect of their fire was, he could not tell, but his comrades dropped fast, and when there were but a few left, they threw down their muskets and rushed headlong into the forest. they scattered in various directions, but were hotly pursued; several shots were fired at him, but they all missed. after running for half an hour he flung himself down in a clump of undergrowth. he had heard, as he ran, other shots, and had no doubt that his companions were all killed. he lay where he was until morning, and then tried to find his way down to bronte, but he had no distinct recollection of what had happened after he left the bushes, until he found that wine was being poured down his throat, and that he was surrounded by a group of pitying women. the fury of the garibaldians, on their arrival from the various villages at which they had been posted, when they heard of the slaughter of their friends, was extreme; and many of the officers begged the general to allow them to make one effort to find and punish the brigands, but bixio refused. "we have a far greater business on our hands," he said. "italy has to be freed. the first blow has been struck, and must be followed up at once; brigandage can wait--it is an old sore, a disgrace to a civilised country; but italy once freed, this can be taken in hand. we might spend weeks, or even months, before we could lay hands on prato's band; the villagers and woodmen would keep them informed of every movement we made, while not only should we gain no information, but all would be interested in putting us upon the wrong track. it is not to be thought of. moreover, i have garibaldi's orders to march to taormina, and if we had lost five hundred men instead of fifty, i should obey that order, much as i should regret being obliged to march away and leave the massacre unavenged." the day after the fugitive had arrived, the force left bronte. the mountainous nature of the country to the north prevented a direct march towards taormina. they therefore took the road round the foot of etna, through bandazza to gairre, which lay nearly due east of bronte, and then followed the line along the coast to taormina. here the troops were halted, while bixio, with frank and a small escort, rode on to messina, as the general wished to confer with garibaldi, and to ascertain how the preparations for the invasion of calabria were proceeding. chapter xiii. across the straits. garibaldi had, on entering messina, been received with tremendous enthusiasm, and at once, while waiting for the reinforcements now pouring in, set himself to work to improve the condition of affairs in the town. he had taken up his abode in the royal palace, where he retained all the servants of the former viceroy, considering that it would be unjust to dismiss them. he ordered, however, that his own dinner was to consist only of some soup, a plate of meat, and some vegetables. the large subscriptions that flowed in from italy and other countries were entirely devoted to public service, as had been the money taken in the treasury at palermo; the general allowed himself only, as pay, eight francs a day, and this was always spent before breakfast; for although at messina, as at palermo, he endeavoured to clear the streets of beggars, he himself was never able to resist an appeal, and no sooner had he sauntered out in the morning than his eight francs melted away among the children and infirm persons who flocked round him. he received frank on his arrival with real pleasure, and congratulated him upon having so completely recovered from the effects of his wound. "there is plenty for you to do," he said; "almost every hour ships bring me volunteers from all parts. arrangements have to be made for bestowing and feeding these. we found a considerable supply of tents here, but they are now occupied, and all arrivals henceforth will have to be quartered on the citizens or in the villages near the town. a list will be given to you, every morning, of persons who are willing to receive them, and a mark will be made against the names of those of a better sort, among whom the officers will be quartered. i beg that you will act in concert with concini and peruzzi, and as the troops land give them their billets, and in the case of officers conduct them to the houses where they are to be lodged. of course you yourself will take up your abode here; there is an abundance of room, and i will order the servants to set aside a comfortable chamber for you. all who are in the palace take their early breakfast here, the rest of their meals they take in the town. i have enemies enough, and i do not wish it to be said that we are spending the funds so generously subscribed for us in feasting in the palace. in the evening, you know, you will always be welcome here." it was, of course, too late in the day for frank's work to begin; but later on he again went to the room where garibaldi was chatting with several of his staff. "bixio has been telling me of your adventure," garibaldi said: "it was a sad business. the death of rubini is a grievous loss to me. he fought most gallantly in the alps, and distinguished himself greatly since we landed here; he was a true patriot, and i shall miss him sorely. others there were who died with him, whom i also greatly regret. the one redeeming point in the affair is, as bixio has been telling me, the admirable way in which you succeeded in saving the little party of whom you were in command. he has detailed the matter in full to me, and the oldest head could not have made better preparations for defence, or better hit upon a plan by which you might at once save any stragglers of rubini's detachment who might return, and at the same time ensure the safety of the five men with you. there will be a steamer going to marseilles in the morning, and it will be a pleasure to me to again write to your mother, saying how well you have done, and how completely you have recovered from your wound. the last time i wrote, although i had as warm a praise to give of your conduct, i abstained from telling her that you were seriously wounded. no doubt you would give her full particulars in your own letters." frank's duties, in the way of billeting the troops as they arrived, were of short duration. so rapidly did crowds of volunteers arrive from the north of italy, that it was found impossible to house them in messina. many were sent off to outlying villages; thousands bivouacked on the sandy shore. garibaldi himself went across to sardinia, and returned with two thousand five hundred men who had been gathered there for a descent upon the coast of the papal states. the italian government had, however, vetoed this movement, and had promised that their own troops should, when the time came, perform this portion of the operations. the port was crowded with shipping. by the convention that had been agreed upon between garibaldi on his entrance to messina, and the neapolitan general who commanded the force that occupied the citadel, it was arranged that the sea should be open to both parties; and the singular spectacle was presented of the neapolitan navy looking quietly on while ships arrived loaded with troops for garibaldi, while the sardinian ships-of-war viewed with equal indifference the arrival of reinforcements to the garrison of the citadel. garibaldi's force had now increased to over twenty-five thousand men; of these but five thousand were sicilians, the rest, with the exception of a few french and english volunteers, coming from northern italy. here the enthusiasm caused by the conquest of sicily was unbounded. the universities had all closed their doors, the students having left in a body; and among the volunteers were hundreds of boys of from thirteen to fifteen years old. garibaldi had, with the aid of the municipality of palermo, raised a loan of nearly three million pounds, and obtained, not only rifles for his own force, but a large number for distribution among the peasants of calabria. five days after his arrival, garibaldi sent for frank, and said: "i am going to bestow on you an honour which will, i am sure, be one after your own heart. i am going to send missori with two hundred men across the straits; nullo goes with him. they are to choose the men, and the competition for the honour of being among the first to set foot in calabria will be a keen one indeed; i have spoken to missori, and he will gladly take you as his staff officer. of course it is not intended that he should fight. his mission will be to travel about the country, inciting the population of the calabrian villages to prepare to join us when we land; to confuse the commanders of the neapolitan troops by his rapid movements, and to cause alarm at naples by the news that the invasion of calabria has begun." "i should enjoy that greatly, general, and i feel very much obliged to you for your kindness in choosing me." as major missori had been on garibaldi's staff from the time frank joined him at genoa, he was well known to him; and when frank visited him, and placed himself under his orders, he received him with great cordiality. "the general could not have made a better choice," he said. "it is a great satisfaction to have an officer with me on whose activity and energy i can so confidently rely. i have just got through the hardest, and i may say the most trying part of my work, for i have had to refuse the applications of scores of old comrades, who, almost with tears in their eyes, have begged me to enroll them among my party. but i am limited to two hundred, and when i had once selected that number i was obliged to say no to all others. i think that every man of my band is well suited for the work: all are young, active men, capable of long marches and the endurance of great fatigue; all are men of tried bravery, and should we have a brush with the neapolitans can be trusted to hold their own. we hope to seize the fortress of alta fiumara; we have opened communication with some soldiers of the garrison, and have hopes that we may take it by surprise. if we can do so, it will greatly facilitate the passage of the army across the straits. "here is a list of the stores we are to take in the boats. of course the men will each take eighty rounds of ammunition; we can carry no reserve, for if we have to take to the mountains it would be impossible to transport it. therefore, you see, we practically take with us only a day's provisions. these will be carried down before sunset to the boats, and i wish you would see them so divided that each man will carry approximately the same weight. thus one can take four pounds of bread, another four pounds of meat, a third two bottles of wine and so on; once in the hills we can purchase what we require at the villages. there will, at any rate, be no difficulty in obtaining meat, nor, i should say, bread. beyond that nothing is necessary. "three calabrians, who know the country well, crossed yesterday, and will act as our guides. we shall probably have to maintain ourselves for a week or ten days before the main body crosses. a cart will go down at four o'clock with the stores. i will order six men to accompany it, and to place themselves under your orders. in the cart you will find two hundred haversacks, in which the provisions will be placed, after you have seen to their division, together with forty rounds of spare ammunition. by the way, you had better sell your horse. across such a country as we shall have to traverse, it would be impossible to ride, and you will probably be able to buy another on the mainland for the sum that you will get for him here. there are a good many men on the staff of some of the late arrivals, who are on the look-out for horses." frank, indeed, had several times been asked by officers if he could tell them where they could procure mounts; and, in the course of the day, he had no difficulty in disposing of his horse and saddlery, for the same amount as he had given for them at marsala. he took with him only a spare shirt and pair of socks rolled up in a large blanket, that, with a hole cut in the middle, served as a cloak by day and a cover at night. hitherto this had been strapped on his saddle; he now rolled it up in the fashion followed by most of the garibaldians, so as to carry it slung over one shoulder. this, with his sword, a brace of pistols, and a small haversack, was his only encumbrance. at the appointed hour he went down with the cart and escort to the point, some two miles from the town, where the boats were lying. it took an hour to make the division of the stores, and then there was nothing to do until, at half-past nine o'clock in the evening, missori with his two hundred men marched down. there were fourteen boats, and as these were sufficient to carry the men in comfort, no time was lost in embarking. it was a long row, for although the water was perfectly calm there was a strong current through the straits, and they had to row head to this while crossing; but two hours after starting they landed at a short distance from the fort. they soon had evidence that the commandant here was watchful, for they had gone but a hundred yards when they suddenly came upon a small outlying picket, who, after challenging, fired, and then ran off towards the fort, where the beating of a drum showed that the garrison were already falling in to repel any attack. their hopes of a surprise were therefore at an end, and as it was by surprise alone that the little force had the slightest chance of capturing so strong a fortress, orders were given, after a hasty consultation between missori and nullo, to turn off at once and make for the mountains, while the boats were directed to start back for messina. headed by their guides, they mounted the slopes of aspromonte. when they had gained a height of some four or five hundred feet, they came upon a wooden shed; this was hastily pulled down and a great bonfire lighted, to inform their friends on the other side of the straits that they had safely landed and were on their way to the hills. they had, as they ascended, heard a sharp fire break out at the water's edge, and knew that a portion of the garrison of the fortress had sallied out and opened fire on the retreating boats. the march was continued for some hours. the cannon of the fort had also opened fire--the object doubtless being to inform the large bodies of troops, gathered at various points along the coast to oppose the garibaldians should they cross, that a force of the enemy had landed in the darkness. however, the little party made their way unobserved past the enemy's outposts, who remained stationary, as the officers were ignorant of the strength of the force that had thus evaded the vigilance of the ships-of-war, and thought it probable that garibaldi himself with some thousands of men might be at hand. this portion of calabria was admirably suited for guerilla warfare. the garibaldians were received with enthusiasm at the first village at which they arrived. the news of the easy conquest of sicily had at first filled all hearts with the hope that their day of liberation was at hand; but the concentration of troops in south calabria had damped their spirits, for, accustomed for centuries to be treated like cattle by the soldiers of their oppressors, it seemed to them well-nigh impossible that garibaldi would venture to set foot on the mainland in the face of so imposing a gathering. the presence, then, of this band of men in red shirts seemed to them almost miraculous. the inhabitants vied with each other in their hospitality, and the able-bodied men of the place declared their readiness to take up arms the moment that garibaldi himself crossed the straits. many of them, indeed, at once joined the party, while others started, some among the mountains and some by the roads leading to other villages, in order to bring in early news of the approach of any body of neapolitan troops, and the garibaldians were therefore able to lie down for a few hours' sleep. for the next week they continued their march, visiting village after village, gathering recruits as they went, crossing mountains, winding up ravines, and constantly changing their course so as to throw the neapolitan troops off their track. several times from lofty points they caught sight of considerable bodies of the enemy moving along the roads. once a neapolitan officer rode into a village where they were halting with a despatch from general briganti, containing a demand for their surrender. missori simply replied that they were ready to give battle whenever the supporters of tyranny chose to meet them; but, although he thus answered the summons, he had no idea of encountering an overwhelming force of neapolitans. failing the capture of the fortress on first landing, his mission was to arouse the population, not to fight; and he continued his work among the mountains in spite of the efforts of the enemy to surround him. cavalry were useless in so mountainous a country, and the garibaldians, free from all weight of equipment, and unencumbered by baggage carts, were able to move with a rapidity that set at defiance the efforts of the soldiery hampered by knapsacks and belts, and with their movements restricted by their tightly-fitting uniforms. although their course had been devious, the garibaldians had been gradually working their way south, skirting the heights of montalto. before starting, missori had been informed by garibaldi that he intended to land near reggio eight or nine days after he crossed, and that he was to place his band in that neighbourhood in order to join him in an attack on that town. when he reached a point within ten miles of reggio, missori said to frank, "i must keep moving about, and cannot leave my men; but i will send twenty of them under your command down to melito. there are, as we have learnt from the peasants, none of the neapolitan troops there; but at the same time do not on any account enter the town. were you to do so, some of the inhabitants might send word to reggio; and it might be suspected that you were there for some special purpose. therefore hide yourself among the hills a short distance from the town; and after nightfall send one of your men in. he had better take one of the peasants' cloaks and hats: it will be ample disguise for him. it will be his duty to watch on the shore; and then, if he sees two or three steamers--i cannot say what force garibaldi will bring over--approach the shore, tell him to come up to you at once; and you can then lead your men down to cover, if necessary, the landing of the troops, and to give them any aid in your power. tell the general that i have now eight hundred men with me, and am ready to move to any point he orders." these instructions frank carried out, except that he obtained two peasants' cloaks and hats instead of one. he halted late in the afternoon two miles behind the town, and when it became quite dark took down his men within a quarter of a mile of it; then, assuming one of the disguises, he proceeded with one of the party similarly habited into the town. he posted his follower by the shore, and then re-entered the place. a good many peasants in their high conical hats, with wide brims adorned with ribbons--a costume which is now generally associated with italian brigands, and differs but slightly from that of the savoyards--were wandering about the town. all sorts of rumours were current. it was reported that the neapolitan war-ships were on the look-out for vessels in which it was said garibaldi was about to cross from messina and the cape of faro. others reported that garibaldi himself was with the small corps that had been, for the past week, pursued among the mountains, and whose ever-increasing numbers had been greatly exaggerated by rumour. frank seated himself in front of a wine-shop where several of these men were drinking. he could with difficulty understand their patois; but he gathered that all wished well to the expedition. an hour later he heard a tumult, and going to see what was the matter, he found that one of the police officers of the town had accosted the man he had left upon the sea-shore, and finding that he was ignorant of the patois of the country, had arrested him. four or five other agents of the municipality, which consisted of creatures of the neapolitan government, had gathered round the captive; and the inhabitants, although evidently favourably disposed towards the prisoner, were too much afraid of the vengeance of their masters to interfere. after hesitating a moment, frank ran back to the wine-shop where he had been sitting. his great fear was that the neapolitan agents would at once send news to reggio that a spy had been taken, and that the garrison there would be put on their guard. he therefore entered, and throwing aside his cloak, addressed the eight or ten peasants present. "my friends," he said, "i am one of the officers of garibaldi, who will soon come to free you from your tyrants. as true italians, i doubt not that your hearts are with him; and you now have it in your power to do him a real service." all rose to their feet. "we are ready, signor. tell us what we have to do, and you can rely upon us to do it." "i want you to post yourselves on the road to reggio a hundred yards beyond the town, and to stop any one who may try to leave the place, no matter whether he be a police officer or the syndic. we have a large force near; but we do not wish to show ourselves till the proper moment. it is all-important that no news of our being in the neighbourhood should reach the commander of the troops at reggio." "we will do it, signor; be assured that no one shall pass long." "simply turn back the first that comes," frank said; "if more come, kill them; but i want these agents of your tyrant to know that the road is closed. i could place our own men to do this, but i do not wish it known that there are troops near." the men hurried away, and frank went off and followed the little crowd that accompanied the prisoner and his captors to the house of the syndic. he watched them go in, and in a short time several of the police left the house, and ere long returned with some eight or ten persons whom frank judged to be the municipal council. he waited for a minute or two, and then went to the door. "stand back," he said, to two men who barred the entrance. "i am one of garibaldi's officers. i have hundreds of my peasants round the town, ready to lay it in ashes if i but give the word." they slipped back, confounded by the news; and entering, he went into a room of which the door was standing open. the man who had been left on watch was standing between four policemen; his cloak had been torn off, and he stood in the red shirt, blue breeches and gaiters, that had now become the uniform of the greater portion of garibaldi's followers. some ten or twelve men were seated by a large table, and were talking eagerly. frank again threw back his cloak, walked up and struck the table with his fist. [illustration: "'silence! signors,' he said in a loud voice"] "silence, signors!" he said in a loud voice. "i am the master of this town for the present: it is surrounded by armed peasants who are instructed to cut the throats of any one who attempts to leave it. i am an officer of garibaldi, as you may see by my attire. i have but to give the word, and in ten minutes the whole of you will be strung up from the balcony of this house; therefore, if you value your lives, retire at once to your houses, and, agents though you be of the neapolitan tyrant, no harm will befall you; but if one of you attempts to leave the town, or to send any one out with a message, his life will be forfeited. that will do, sirs: leave at once." the astounded men filed out from the room. when they had all left, frank went out with the late prisoner, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. "put on your hat and cloak again," he said, "and go down to the road by the sea; watch if any one goes along, and stay a quarter of an hour to see if he returns." then, without putting on his own disguise, he went to the spot where the townspeople, among whom the report of what had happened had spread rapidly, were assembled, and mounting on the steps of a large building there, addressed them. "calabrians," he said, "the moment when your freedom will be attained is at hand. you have heard that a party of troops of that champion of freedom, general garibaldi, has crossed to the mainland. the officer in command has sent me to tell you that they are everywhere joined by the brave calabrians, and will speedily have a force capable of giving battle to the armies of your tyrants. it may be that before many days they will come down here from the mountains, and he hopes to find every man capable of bearing arms ready to join him; it will be a bad day for those who, in spite of the wishes of the people, and the certainty that calabria will shortly be freed from the presence of the troops at naples, strive to check the tide. "for your own sakes watch the men who have acted as the agents of the government of naples; station armed men on every road by which they could send a message to reggio, for should they do so troops might be sent here, and then, when the soldiers of freedom come down from the hills, a battle will be fought in your streets, and many innocent persons might suffer. i do not ask any to come forward now, to declare himself for the cause of freedom; i only ask you to hold yourselves in readiness, so that when we come down from the hills you will welcome us, as men welcome those who come to strike the fetters from their limbs. it may be that you will not have long to wait, and that in eight-and-forty hours missori with a portion of his army will be here. but this i do ask you: keep an eye on your syndic and his council, on the police, and all others who represent the authority of naples, and see that no one on any pretence leaves the town for the next forty-eight hours." the town was a very small one, and a large portion of its population were fishermen; these latter shouted loud approval of frank's words, and declared themselves ready to carry out the instructions he had given them, but the trading class was silent. they had something to lose, and had been so long accustomed to the tyranny of the government that they feared to make any demonstration whatever of liberal opinions until they saw how matters went. it was upon them that the taxes pressed most heavily, and they had far more reason than the fishing class to hail a release from these exactions; but they had more to lose, and they felt that it was best to hold themselves aloof from any manifestation of their feelings. the fishermen, however, thronged round frank, and announced themselves ready at once to obey his orders. "divide yourselves into four parties," he went on; "let each choose a leader and take it in turn to watch the roads and see that none passes." at this moment frank's follower returned. "two of the police went out along the road," he said, "but have just come back." "i am not surprised at what i have just heard," he went on, addressing the fishermen. "the police have already endeavoured to send word to reggio that our friends from the hills are shortly coming here, but they have been stopped on the way by some brave peasants whom i stationed on the road for the purpose. how many police are there here?" "only eight, signor," one of the men said. "come with me, and i will warn them that if any attempt is again made to send word of what is going on here they will be at once hanged." followed by forty or fifty fishermen, he went at once to the police quarters. the sergeant who was in command came out with his detachment. "men," frank said, "we bear no ill-will to those who serve the neapolitan government. it has been the government of this country, and none are to be blamed for taking service with it; and i doubt not that when, like sicily, calabria is free, those who have done their duty, without undue oppression and violence, will be confirmed in their appointments. but woe be to those who oppose the impulse of the country! there are thousands of peasants in the mountains already in arms. the neapolitan soldiers, who were powerless to oppose the people of sicily, will be equally powerless to oppose the people of calabria, aided as these will be, when the time comes, by the great army from the other side of the straits. already, as you know, sir," he said to the officer, "the roads leading from here are guarded. you have made an effort, as was perhaps your duty, to send word to reggio that the heart of the people here beats with those of their brethren among the hills. let there be no further attempts of the sort, or it will be bad, alike for those who go and for those who stay, and when colonel missori arrives you will be treated as the enemies of freedom and punished accordingly. "already i have a detachment close at hand, and the sound of a gun will bring them here at once; but if all is quiet these will not enter the place until the main body arrives. i have come on before, to see whether the people here are to be regarded as friends or as enemies. i already know that they are friends; and in the name of colonel missori, and in the cause of freedom, i order you to remain quiet here, to take no steps either for or against us, and i doubt not that, when the time comes, you will be as ready as the brave fellows here to join the army of freedom. at present my orders are that you remain indoors. i will have no going out, no taking notes as to the names of those who join our cause. i do not order you to give up your arms; i hope that you will use them in the cause of freedom." "your orders shall be obeyed, signor," the sergeant said. "i am powerless to interfere one way or another here, but i promise that no further attempt shall be made to communicate with reggio." "i accept your word, sergeant. and now you will send a man round to the houses of all the town council and all functionaries of the neapolitan government, and state that, by the orders of the representative of colonel missori, they are none of them to leave their houses for the next forty-eight hours; and that they are not to attempt to communicate with each other, or to send any message elsewhere. any attempt whatever to disobey this order will be punished by immediate death. which man do you send?" "thomasso," the sergeant said. "you have heard the order. will you at once carry it round?" "let four of your men," frank said to the fishermen, "go with this policeman. see that he delivers this message, and that he enters into no communication whatever with those to whom he is sent, but simply repeats the order and then goes to the next house." four men stepped forward, and at once started with the policeman. the sergeant and the others withdrew into the house. "now, my friends," frank went on to the fishermen, "do as i told you, and let the first party take up at once the duty of watching the roads, and remain there for six hours. it is now ten; at four the second party will relieve them, and so on at intervals of six hours. it will not be long ere the necessity for this will be at an end. each party will detach eight men in pairs to patrol the streets till morning and arrest any one they find about, and conduct him to the hotel where i shall take up my quarters. those not on duty had best retire quietly to their homes, as soon as it is settled to which section they are to belong. i shall not go to bed, and any question that may arise must at once be referred to me." the fishermen went off to the shore to choose their leaders. "rejoin your comrades," frank said to his follower. "tell them that everything is going on well, and that while two of them are to come down at once to keep watch on the beach, the rest can wrap themselves in their cloaks and lie down until they receive orders from me." frank now went to the one hotel in the town and ordered supper to be prepared for him. the landlord, who had been among the crowd when he addressed them, said humbly,-"i have already ordered supper to be got ready, signor, thinking that when you had arranged matters you would yourself come here. pray do not think that because many of us did not at once come forward and offer to join you, it was because we were indifferent to your news; but you see it is not with us as with the fishermen. if things go badly, they can embark their families and goods in their boats, cross the straits, and establish themselves in the villages there, and earn their living as before. but with us who have something to lose it is different. our property would be confiscated, we should be driven from home, many of us would be shot, and others thrown into their dungeons." "i quite see that, landlord; and i can hardly blame you for hesitating a little, though you must remember that the men who have been the champions of freedom have been almost wholly men who have had much to lose, but have risked all for their principles, and that garibaldi's army is very largely composed of such men." "ah, signor, but we have never seen any chance of success. when garibaldi once lands, we shall not hang back; but at present it is but a revolt of the peasants. they tell us that france and other powers are endeavouring to prevent him from invading calabria; and if he should not come, what can a few thousand peasants do against a hundred thousand trained troops?" "well, i do not think that garibaldi will be restrained from crossing, whatever pressure is put upon him: they tried to prevent him from sailing from genoa--now he is dictator of sicily; he will land somewhere on the coast, never fear." "in that case, signor, i shall shout as loud as any one, and i shall send my son to carry a musket in his ranks." frank smiled. "well, landlord, let me have my supper; to-morrow we may talk over the affair again. bring me a bottle of good wine, and when supper is served you can close the house for the night. i shall not require a bed, but shall remain here till morning. do not fasten up the front door, as i shall have men call frequently. i hope there are plenty of provisions in the town in case three or four thousand men should march in here to-morrow." "for a day, signor, we might feed them; but i doubt if it would go beyond that." chapter xiv. a discovery. at one o'clock one of the men on the look-out brought to frank the news that he could make out two steamers approaching. frank ran down to the shore. the man's eyesight had not deceived him: two steamers were certainly making their way towards melito, and, from the direction of their course, they had almost certainly come from some port in sicily, and did not belong to the neapolitan squadron that were constantly parading the straits. these, indeed, were for the most part lying twenty miles away, while some were anchored off reggio. demonstrations had been made for some days both at messina and the cape of faro, in order to attract their attention, and lead to the belief that it was intended to land near the spot where missori had disembarked, or at some point north of the entrance to the straits. stores had been ostentatiously placed on board steamers at messina and faro; men had embarked in considerable numbers every evening, and smoke pouring from the funnels showed that steam was being got up. these preparations were keenly watched by the neapolitans, and served their purpose by concentrating all their attention upon these points. garibaldi, on arriving from sardinia with the troops which had been collected there, had despatched the _torino_ and _franklin_, carrying a thousand of these men, round the island with instructions to them to put in at giardini, the port of taormina. he himself proceeded to messina, and then, after seeing that all was going on well there, rode down to the port, having previously sent forward seven hundred men. this detachment was so small that its departure attracted little attention, and it was supposed that it had only gone down to reinforce bixio's brigade; thus messina was as ignorant of the fact that an expedition was about to start from giardini as were the neapolitan commanders. on arrival at giardini, on the evening of august 18th, garibaldi found that bixio had already embarked a thousand men on board the _torino_, which was a steamer of seven hundred tons, and that he was prepared to send another thousand on board. the _franklin_ was a small paddle steamer of two hundred tons, and she was reported to be leaking so badly that no troops had been embarked on her. garibaldi at once went on board with his staff, and found that she was making water fast. the leak could not be discovered, but garibaldi, as an old sea captain, knew what should be done to check the inrush of water, at least for a time, as it was all-important that she should be able to carry her complement of men across the sixteen miles of water between giardini and melito. several of his officers could swim, and he ordered these to dive overboard, and to find, if possible, the position of the leaks. in the meantime, he sent ashore for a boat-load of a mixture of manure and chopped straw. when this arrived, lumps were thrust down at the end of poles, to the points where leaks had been discovered; particles of the composition were drawn into the leaks by the inrush of water, and in a short time the leakage almost entirely ceased, and the work of embarkation recommenced. three thousand men were carried by the _torino_, and twelve hundred on the _franklin_, where garibaldi himself took his place, while bixio commanded on the _torino_. both vessels were crowded to a dangerous extent; men were packed on deck as closely as they could stand, and were even clustered on the shrouds. had there been any wind, it would have been dangerous in the extreme to put to sea overloaded as they were, but fortunately there was not a breath of air, and the water was perfectly calm. at ten o'clock the two vessels started on their eventful voyage, but owing to the difficulties caused by the strong currents, they did not arrive off melito until two in the morning. as soon as frank had assured himself that the approaching vessels were those he expected, he sent off one of his two men to fetch down the party that had for twelve hours been lying outside the place, while he despatched the other to the huts of the leaders of the three parties of fishermen not engaged in watching the roads, to tell them to call up all their men as quietly as possible and to get their boats in the water. in a short time, therefore, after the _franklin's_ anchor had been dropped, frank arrived alongside the _torino_ with half a dozen fishing boats: he had rowed to her both as being the larger craft and being nearest to the shore, and thought that garibaldi would be on board her. on reaching her he found bixio. several lanterns had been placed near the gangway, and the general at once recognised him. "welcome, captain percival!" he said heartily, as he shook hands with him. "we were glad indeed when we saw the boats putting off, and knew that a detachment of missori's men must be there. have you more boats coming out?" "yes, sir; there will be a dozen more off in a few minutes. i set off as soon as i had assembled a sufficient number of fishermen to man those alongside." "i am sorry to say," bixio said, "that we have run aground, and i fear badly. i have just sent a boat to the _franklin_, where garibaldi is, to tell him what has happened. you had better go at once and report to him. what force have you?" "only fifty men, sir. the colonel sent only a small party, as he was afraid that, were he to come with all his force, he would bring the enemy down here at once." "there is no fear of trouble in the town?" "no, sir; i have arranged all that. you will be entirely unopposed; there are no neapolitans nearer than reggio, and they have no suspicions of our being here." frank at once returned to the boat in which he had come off, and rowed to the _franklin_. "ah, it is you, percival!" garibaldi exclaimed when he saw him. "then all is well. we will begin to land at once, and you can tell me as we go ashore what missori has been doing. how many boats have you with you?" "i have brought six, sir; but there will be at least a dozen more in a few minutes." garibaldi descended into the boat, and was followed by as many men as could be crowded into her. "now, first about the state of things here. is there any chance of our being disturbed before the men are all ashore?" "i should think not, sir. with the exception of the fishermen, whom i have roused to man the boats, no one in the place knows anything of what is going on. the great bulk of the people are in your favour. the syndic and all the authorities are prisoners in their houses, and even if they were conscious of your landing, they could not send the news to reggio, as i have armed parties on all the roads. you have therefore certainly six or eight hours before there is any chance of interruption." "that is good news. indeed, everything has gone well with us so far, except this misfortune of bixio's steamer running aground. unless we can succeed in getting her off, i fear that the neapolitans will capture her. however, that is a minor matter. now, what can you tell me about the position of the enemy?" "there are about thirty thousand men under general viale in and around monteleone; there are twelve thousand at bagnara, and the towns between it and reggio, where there are but fifteen hundred men under general galotta; eighteen hundred men are in aspromonte, in pursuit of missori, who has now about eight hundred men with him." "they could hardly be disposed better for our purpose," garibaldi remarked. "we shall take reggio before supports can arrive to the garrison, and our success there will be worth ten thousand men to us." garibaldi remained on shore watching the disembarkation of the men. every boatman in melito was soon employed in the work, and, by four o'clock the whole of the troops were on the shore. while the disembarkation had been going on, garibaldi had sent for the syndic and other authorities, and had informed them that they must now consider themselves under his authority, and obey promptly all orders that he gave them; that he should require bread, meat, and wine, for a day's consumption for the whole of his force; that he was prepared to pay for the food, but that they must obtain it from the inhabitants. except among the fishermen, the arrival of the force was regarded with an appearance of apathy. the townspeople had been told by the authorities that there was no fear whatever of garibaldi and his freebooters coming near them, and believing that he must speedily be crushed, they regarded his arrival with fear rather than pleasure. there were many there who were well-wishers of the cause, but they feared to exhibit any sign of their friendship, lest they should suffer terribly for it when he and his followers had been destroyed by the troops. in sicily there had been previous insurrections and risings, and the people had long hoped that some day they would shake off the yoke of naples; but no such hope had been entertained on the mainland, where the reign of oppression had been so long unbroken that no thought that it could ever be thrown off had entered the minds of the great majority of the ignorant people. at daybreak the war-vessels at reggio could be seen getting up steam, and the greatest efforts were made to get the _torino_ afloat again. unfortunately the reduction effected in her draught of water by the removal of her passengers and a certain amount of stores had been counteracted by the force of the current, which, as fast as she was lightened, carried her up higher on the shoal. the little _franklin_, which was an american vessel chartered for the occasion, hoisted the stars and stripes as soon as the garibaldians had landed, and steamed across to the island. the _torino's_ italian flag remained flying until three neapolitan steamers came up and opened fire upon the garibaldians on shore. three men were wounded by a shell; when the rest, forming up, marched out of the town, taking the path (it could scarcely be called a road) towards reggio. four men had, soon after the landing had been effected, been sent to missori with orders that he should join at reggio. as soon as the garibaldians were out of range, the neapolitan commanders turned their guns on the _torino_, and after keeping up a heavy fire upon her for some hours, they sent parties in boats to board her and set her on fire. the first part of the march towards reggio was an extremely toilsome one. for the first eight miles, from melito to cape d'armi, the slopes of the mountains extend to the very edge of the water, and the troops were continually mounting the steep spurs or descending into ravines. they had with them four mountain guns, and as the path could only be traversed by the men in single file, the difficulty of taking the guns along was immense. the men were in the highest spirits. the fact that, in case of disaster, the destruction of the _torino_ had cut off all means of return to sicily, in no way troubled them. similarly they had thrown themselves on shore at marsala, and the ships in which they had come had been captured by the enemy. their confidence in garibaldi was absolute, and no thought of disaster was for a moment entertained. once past the cape, they halted. it was already evening, and although the distance in miles had been short, the fatigue had been very great, and none had closed an eye on the previous night. it was therefore impossible to go farther. they were received with enthusiasm by the people of the villages scattered here and there on the mountain-side. a greek colony had very many years before settled there, and retained many of their own customs, and even their own language; but although conversation with the north italian garibaldians was difficult, and often impossible, there could be no mistake as to the heartiness of their welcome. everything in the way of provisions was given to the soldiers, and each cottage took in as many men as it could hold; and from the moment, indeed, when the garibaldians set foot in calabria, they met with a far deeper and heartier welcome than had been the case in sicily. in the latter they had been joined by a comparatively small body of volunteers, and the people had contented themselves with shouting and cheering, but had given little else; and even in messina the appeals of garibaldi for aid in the hospitals, and lint and bandages for the wounded, had met with little response: the sicilians had, in fact, fallen to the level of the neapolitans. in calabria, on the other hand, the population was manly, hardy, and hospitable--possessing the virtues of mountaineers in all countries; and as the news of garibaldi's landing spread, the whole population took up arms. here communications were received from missori, who stated that he was pushing forward with all haste; but that, from the ruggedness of the mountains along which he was travelling, he could not hope to be at reggio until late the following evening. the next day the garibaldians advanced along the mountain-side; a detachment sent out from reggio retiring along the road as they advanced. the force halted for the night six miles from the town. a messenger from missori announced that, in spite of his efforts, he was still far distant; garibaldi, therefore, determined to attack the next morning without waiting for him. communications had been opened with the townsfolk, and a message was sent back that the national guard would support him. few towns are more beautifully situated than reggio. it lies on the lowest slope of a spur of aspromonte. behind it rises the castle, with its guns commanding the town, whose scattered suburbs and gardens stretch far away up the mountain-side; while across the straits lies the bay of catania, with numerous towns and villages up the slopes of etna, which forms a background, with wreaths of smoke ascending from the volcano on its summit. away to the right lies messina, and the coast stretching along to cape faro. the intervening strait is dotted with shipping: steamers on their way to the east, or returning to italy and france; sailing-ships flying the flags of many nations, fishing-and rowing-boats. it was settled that bixio with his brigade was to enter the town by the main road, and effect a junction with the national guard in the piazza lying below the castle; and that, when the junction was made, a battalion was to descend to the shore and attack a small fort near the marina. as soon as the news of garibaldi's landing had reached the town, the principal people and the officers of the national guard had called upon gallotta, and begged him, if he intended to fight garibaldi, to go outside the town to do so, and so save the place from the injury that would be effected by a desperate struggle in the streets. the request was a strange one; but the general, who no doubt considered that he would do better in a fight in the open than in the streets, where possibly the inhabitants might take part against him, agreed to do this, and on garibaldi's approach marched out of the fortress with eight hundred men in two detachments, one of which took post at the bridge just outside reggio, while, strangely enough, the other four hundred men took up a position on the opposite side of the town. in order to confuse the italian troops, who would be marching from all the towns on the coast towards reggio, garibaldi had sent orders to cosenz to cross during the night from cape faro with twelve hundred men in boats, and to land near bagnara. expecting some hard fighting, the garibaldians moved on at midnight. when they approached the town the scouts went forward, and found to their surprise that the bridge was unoccupied. bixio at once crossed it; and, reaching the piazza, joined the national guard there without a shot having been fired. similarly, garibaldi with the rest of the force entered the suburbs. they came upon a small outpost, which was at once driven back; and gallotta, who, not dreaming of a night attack, had withdrawn most of his troops into the castle, now beat a hasty retreat with the remainder, and a cannonade was at once opened by its guns upon the town. the neapolitan force on the other side of reggio retreated at once, fearing that they would not be able to enter the castle, and retired along the road, hoping to meet general braganti, who was advancing with a column to reinforce the garrison. bixio's battalion took the little fort on the marina without difficulty. barricades were at once thrown up across all the streets leading to the castle, in order to prevent the garrison from making a sortie, or any relieving force reaching it. it was daylight now, and missori and his column arrived, as arranged, upon the hill-side above the castle, and at once opened so heavy a musketry fire upon its defenders, that the artillery were unable to serve the guns. feeling that the castle could not hold out long, garibaldi despatched a battalion to hold the relieving column in check; but braganti had already heard from the fugitives that the town and seaside fort were in the hands of the garibaldians, and the castle invested upon all sides: he therefore fell back to await further reinforcements, being ignorant of the force under garibaldi's command. at twelve o'clock a loud cheer broke from the garibaldians round the castle, for the white flag of surrender was hoisted. the general granted the same terms that were given to bosco's force at milazzo--namely, that the garrison might march down to the shore, and there embark on board the neapolitan war-ships for conveyance to naples, leaving all munitions of war, money, and all prisoners who might be confined there, behind them. thus, with the loss of only seven men killed and wounded, a castle which had been considered capable of resisting a long siege was captured, and the first blow struck at the bourbon dynasty of naples. the success in itself was a striking one; its consequences were far-reaching. the news that reggio had been captured by the garibaldians, almost without fighting, spread like wild-fire. cosenz's landing had also been successful; and this, added to the news that all southern calabria had risen in arms, created such consternation among the commanders of the various bodies of troops in the towns facing the straits, that all prepared to march at once to join the main force at monteleone. as soon as the castle surrendered, garibaldi despatched boats across the straits, with orders to the troops at messina and cape faro to cross at once in any craft they could get hold of. no advance from reggio was made that afternoon, as the troops required some rest after their exertions. as evening came on the scene was a striking one; every town and village on the other side of the straits from cape faro to giardini being illuminated. the lights twinkled, and bonfires blazed, far up the sides of etna. as soon as garibaldi had entered the castle, he said to frank, who had been near him all day: "take ten men and search the castle thoroughly, and release all political prisoners. there are sure to be many here." frank obeyed the order eagerly. at palermo he had not expected to find any prisoners from the mainland; and he had read through the list of those found and released at messina without emotion--for there, as at palermo, all were men, for the most part of good family, belonging to the city; but now he was on the mainland, and prisoners taken in any part of the neapolitan dominions might be found here. first he obtained the list of those detained from the officer in special charge of them. no familiar name met his eye as he glanced hastily down it. "you are sure that this is the entire list?" he asked the officer. "there are none others," the latter replied; "but if you are searching for a friend you may find him here, though bearing another name. the majority of the prisoners are registered under their real names, but in some cases, where there are particular reasons for secrecy, another name is given when they are brought here, and i myself am ignorant of what their real designations may be." "you had better accompany me round, sir," frank said, "and see that the jailors open all the doors and give me every facility." the officer willingly assented: he felt that his appointment under the neapolitan government was at an end, and was anxious to please those who were likely to be his masters in the future. as a rule some fifteen or twenty men were confined together; these were first visited, but no familiar face was found among them. "those you have seen," the officer said, "are, i believe, all confined here under their own names; as you see, a number are kept together. all are allowed at certain hours of the day to go out into the courtyard and to converse with each other freely. there are four prisoners who are kept apart from the rest, and each other; these are the four who bear, i believe, other names than those given on the list. they go out for four or five hours at a time on to the walls, but each has his separate place for exercise, and they can hold no communication with each other, or with the rest of the prisoners. in all other respects they have the same food and treatment." the scene in each of the rooms that he had hitherto entered had been very painful; the prisoners had heard the sound of firing, but were in ignorance of what it meant. no news from the outside world ever reached them; they had heard nothing of the events in sicily, and the only explanation that they could imagine for the firing was that there had been a revolution in the province, and that the castle had been attacked by a party of insurgents. their hopes had fallen when the firing ceased; and during the hour that had passed while the negotiations were being carried on, had altogether faded away. they had heard no cannon from without; and that a body of insurgents should have captured the fortress seemed out of the question. there had been an attack, but the assailants had evidently fallen back. when, therefore, frank entered, attended by their chief and followed by eight men in red shirts, broad-brimmed hats, and carrying muskets, they were too astonished even to guess at the truth until frank said: "gentlemen, in the name of general garibaldi, who has captured this castle, i have the pleasure to announce to you that from this moment you are free men." for the most part the announcement was received in silence. they could scarce believe the possibility of what he said. the name of garibaldi was known to all. it was he who had commanded at the defence of rome; it was he who, as those who had been longest there had learned from comparatively late comers, had done such signal service in the alps with his volunteers, when, by the aid of france, milan and part of lombardy was wrested from the austrians. they looked at one another almost incredulously; then, as the meaning of frank's words dawned upon them, some fell into each others' arms, murmuring incoherent words, others burst into tears, while some again dropped on their knees to thank god for their deliverance. frank had to wait for a few minutes in each room until they had recovered themselves a little, and then sent out each batch with two of his soldiers to see for themselves that they were really free, and to thank garibaldi for their rescue. "now, signor," the officer said, when they had left the last of the large rooms, "there are only the four special prisoners to visit." the first of these was a man in the prime of life, although with long unkempt hair and beard. as frank repeated the words he had used before, the man looked at him with an unmeaning smile. again and again he spoke to him, but a low childish laugh was the only answer. frank turned angrily to the officer. "the poor fellow's mind has gone," he said. "how long has he been a prisoner here?" "about eight years, signor; for some time his mind has been getting weaker." "the brutes!" frank exclaimed passionately. "here, men, take this poor fellow out to the courtyard, and remain with him: i will ask the general presently what had best be done with him. are the others like this?" he asked the officer, with a thrill of fear that overpowered the hope that he had lately been feeling. "one of them is silent, and seldom speaks, but he is, i believe, quite sensible; the other two are well. the man we shall next see is perfectly so; he never speaks to us, but when alone here, or when upon the wall for exercise, he talks incessantly to himself: sometimes in italian; sometimes, as one of the officers who understands that language says, in english; sometimes in what i have heard our priests say is latin; sometimes in other languages." "before you open the door, tell me what age he is," frank asked, in a low strained voice. "i should say that he was about sixty, signor; he has been here nearly three years," the man said. "now open the door." frank entered almost timidly. a tall man rose from a palette, which was the sole article of furniture in the room. "is it treason, lieutenant," he asked quietly, "to ask what has been going on?" frank with an exclamation of joy stepped forward: "grandfather," he said, "thank god i have found you!" the prisoner started, looked at him searchingly, and exclaimed, "frank! yes, it is frank: is this a miracle, or am i dreaming?" "neither, grandfather. garibaldi has landed; we have taken the castle, and, thank god, you are free." the professor sank back on his bed and sat for a minute or two with his face buried in his hands; then he rose, put his hands upon frank's shoulders, and then clasped him in his arms, bursting as he did so into tears, while frank's own cheeks were wet. the professor was the first to recover himself. "i had fancied, frank," he said, "that i was a philosopher, but i see i am not; i thought that all emotion for me was over, but i feel now like a child. and can i really go out?" "yes," frank said; "but i have two more doors to open, and then i will go with you." "i will wait here for you, frank: i shall be glad to be for a few minutes alone, to persuade myself that this is not a dream, and to thank god for his mercy. one moment, though, before you leave me: is my wife alive and well, and my daughter?" "both are well," frank said; "it is five months since i saw them, but i had letters from both four days ago." then he left the cell. "this is the silent man," the officer said, as he opened the next door. frank repeated his usual speech to the dark-bearded man who faced him when he entered. "you are young to lie, sir," the man said sternly. "this, i suppose, is a fresh trick to see whether i still hate the accursed government that has sent me here." "it is no lie, signor," frank said quietly. "i am an officer of general garibaldi's. he has conquered all sicily, and with some four thousand men crossed the straits three days ago to melito, and has now captured this place." the man burst into a wild fit of laughter, and then, with another cry of "you lie!" he sprang upon frank, and had it not been for the officer and the two garibaldian soldiers, who still accompanied them, would assuredly have strangled him; for, strong as he was, frank was but an infant in the man's hands. after a desperate struggle, he was pulled off, and forced down on his bed. "leave him," frank said: "he will be quiet now.--signor, i can understand your feelings; you think what i have said is impossible. you will soon see that it is not. as soon as you calm yourself, one of my men will accompany you to the courtyard, which is, you will find, full of garibaldians; and the general himself will assure you that you are a free man, and can, if you choose, quit this place immediately." the man's mood changed. "i am calm," he said, rising to his feet. "perhaps this man will take me out to execution, but it will be welcome to me. i have prayed for death so long that i can only rejoice if it has come." then he quietly walked out of the cell, followed by one of the soldiers, who, being by no means satisfied that the prisoner had ceased to be dangerous, slipped his bayonet on to his musket before following him. the fourth prisoner was very feeble, but he received the news with tranquillity. "it does not make much difference to me now," he said; "but it will be some satisfaction to know that i shall be buried outside the prison." "you must not look at it in that light, signor," frank said. "no doubt you will pick up health and strength when you rejoin your friends, and find that the tyranny and oppression you struggled against are at an end." leaving the last of his men to give the poor fellow his arm and lead him out, frank returned to professor forli. the latter rose briskly as he came in. "i am myself again," he said. "your coming here so strangely, and the news you brought, were so great a surprise, that everything seemed confused, and i was unable to grasp the fact. i have heard that a good swimmer, if he falls suddenly into deep water, behaves for a few moments like one who is ignorant of the art, striking out wildly, swallowing much water before he fairly grasps the situation and his skill returns to him. so it was with me: my equanimity has never been shaken since i was first seized. i perceived at once that what was to come was inevitable. i reflected that i was vastly better off than most; that my mind was stored with knowledge accumulated by the great thinkers of all ages, and that, so fortified, i could afford to be indifferent to imprisonment or persecution. but you see the suddenness of the knowledge that i was free, did what captivity, even as hopeless as mine, had failed to do. now, frank, let us go out: you shall take me down to the sea-shore, and then tell me by what marvel you come to be here. if it had been your father, i should not have been so surprised; but that you, whom i had thought of as a boy at harrow, should throw open my prison-door, is past my understanding at present. of course, your father is here with you?" "i am sorry to say that he is not," frank said quietly; "but i will tell you all about it when we get down to the shore. i must, before we start, tell the general that all the prisoners have been freed, and that i have found you, and ask if he will require me just at present." going into the courtyard, frank left his grandfather to look on at a scene so novel to him, and went into the room where garibaldi and bixio were examining, with the syndic, a map of the district. he stood at the door till the general looked round. "pardon me, sir, for interrupting you, but i wish to report to you that among the other prisoners i have found signor forli, and that he is in good health." garibaldi rose from his seat, and holding out both hands grasped those of frank. "i am glad--i am glad indeed, lad," he said with deep feeling, "that my old friend is rescued; glad that the sacrifice that your mother made in parting with you has not been in vain, and that your own bravery and good conduct have been thus rewarded. i pray god that that other that you are seeking for, still nearer and more loved, may also be found." "excuse me," he said to bixio and the syndic: "i must shake signor forli by the hand before i go farther into this." as he hurried out, frank said,--"i have not told him about my father yet, sir. he suggested himself that we should go down together to the sea-shore, where we could talk matters over quietly; and i came in partly to ask you if you would require my services for the next hour or two?" "certainly not, percival. yes, i will be careful; it would be a shock to him to be told suddenly that your father had lost his life in his search for him." led by frank, he hurried to the spot where the professor was standing, quietly regarding the garibaldians laughing and chatting, and the groups of the neapolitan troops, who, now disarmed, were standing talking together with disheartened and sombre faces. "ah, professor," he exclaimed, as he came up to him; "glad indeed am i that you have been found and rescued. your friends were right in not despairing of you. it seems an age since we parted twelve years ago at rome. you are little changed. i feared that if found you would be like so many of the others whose prison doors we have opened--mere wrecks of themselves." "nor have you changed much," signor forli said, as he stood holding the general's hand; "a line or two on the forehead, but that is all. and so you have taken up again the work that seemed postponed for another century at rome?" "yes; and this time i hope that all italy will be freed. now, old friend, you must excuse me for the present--i am full of business; this evening we must have a long talk together; much has happened in the three years that have passed since you disappeared. you can keep this youngster with you. he has well earned a day's holiday." so saying, garibaldi hurried off. chapter xv. the advance from reggio. professor forli was silent until he and frank had passed out through the gate of the castle, then he took a long breath. "the air of freedom," he said, "is no different from that i have breathed daily on the walls there, for well-nigh three years, and yet it seems different. it is a comfort that my prison lay in this fair spot, and not in some place where i could see but little beyond the walls. often and often have i thanked god that it was so, and that, even as a free man and with the world before me, i could see no more lovely scene than this. there was change, too: there was the passage of the ships; i used to wonder where each was sailing; and about the passengers, and how hopefully many of these were going abroad to strange countries in search of fortunes, and how few were returning with their hopes fully satisfied. i smiled sometimes to think of the struggle for wealth and advancement going on in the world round me, while i had no need to think of the future; but my needs, always, as you know, few and simple, were ministered to; and though cut off from converse with all around me, i had the best company in the world in my cell. how thankful i was that my memory was so good--that i could discourse with the great men of the world, could talk with plato and argue with demosthenes; could discuss old age with cicero, or travel with either homer or virgil; visit the inferno with dante, or the heavens with milton; knew by heart many of the masterpieces of shakespeare and goethe, and could laugh over the fun of terence and plutarch: it was a grand company." so the professor continued to talk until they reached the shore. frank was not called upon to speak. the professor was talking to himself rather than to him, continuing the habit of which the officer of the prison had spoken. as yet his brain was working in its old groove. once on the strand, he stood silently gazing for two or three minutes, then he passed his hand across his forehead, and with an evident effort broke the chain of his thoughts and turned to frank. "strange talk, no doubt you are thinking, frank, for a man so suddenly and unexpectedly released from a living grave; but you see, lad, that the body can be emancipated more quickly than the mind from its bonds, and i am as one awaking from a deep sleep and still wondering whether it is i myself, and how i came to be here, and what has happened to me. i fear that it will be some time before i can quite shake off my dreams. now, lad, once more tell me about my wife and your mother. but no, you have told me that they are well. you have said naught of your father, save that he is not here. where is he? and how is he?" "i can answer neither question, grandfather. he, like you, has been lost to us; he disappeared a few months after you did, and we were led to believe that he was killed." the professor was himself again in an instant. the mood that had dominated him was shaken off, and he was keen, sharp, and alert again, as frank remembered him. "he is lost?" he repeated: "you heard that he was killed? how was it? tell me everything. in the early days of my imprisonment, when i thought of many things outside the walls of my gaol, one thing troubled me more than others. my wife had her daughter; no harm would come to her, save the first grief at my loss and the slow process of hope dying out. my daughter had everything that a woman could wish to make her happy; but your father, i knew him so well, he would not rest when the days passed and no news of me came--he would move heaven and earth to find me; and a man in this country who dares to enquire after a political prisoner incurs no small danger. is it so that he was missing? tell me all, and spare no detail; we have the rest of the day before us. we will sit down on this seat. now begin." frank told, at length, how, on the news of the professor's disappearance, his father had interested the english government in the matter, and how to all enquiries made the government of naples had replied that they knew nothing whatever concerning his disappearance; and how, at last, he himself started with an order obtained from naples for him to search all the prisons of southern italy. "it was just like him; it was noble and chivalrous," the professor said; "but he should have known better. an englishman unacquainted with italy might have believed that with such an order he might safely search for one who he suspected was lying in a neapolitan prison, but your father should have known better. notice would assuredly be sent before he arrived; and had he come here, for example, i should a week before have been carried away up into the mountains, till he had gone. he would have been shown the register of prisoners, he would not have found my name among them, he would have been told that no such person as he described had ever been confined here,--it was hopeless. but go on with your story." frank told how his father had visited several prisons, and how he wrote letters, exposing their horrors, that had appeared in the english papers, and had created an immense impression throughout the country. "it was mad of him," the professor murmured; "noble, but mad." then frank told how the news came of his being carried off by brigands, of the steps that had been taken, of the evidence of the courier who saw him fall, and of some of his effects being found in the hut on the mountain when this was captured and the brigand chief killed, of the report given by one of the prisoners that his father had died and been buried shortly after he was taken there, and of the vain search that had been made for his body. "and was this tale believed?" signor forli exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "no italian would for a moment have thought it true--at least, none who had the misfortune to be born under the neapolitan rule. surely my wife never believed it?" "in her heart i know now that she did not," frank said, "but she kept her doubts to herself for the sake of my mother. she thought that it was far better that she should believe that father was dead than that she should believe him buried in one of the foul prisons he had described." "she was right--she was right," the professor said: "it was certainly better. and your mother--did she lose hope?" "she told me that she would not allow herself to believe that he might still be alive, and i believe that she and the signora never said one word on the subject to each other until just before i started." he then related how the courier had been brought over, how he had been installed in the house in cadogan place, and how no suspicion of his being a spy had been entertained until after the receipt of garibaldi's letter, and how they were convinced at last that he had overheard all the arrangements made for his leaving for italy. "and you are alive, frank, to tell me this! by what miracle did you escape from the net that was thrown around you?" this part of the story was also told. "it was well arranged and bravely carried through, frank. so you took up the mission which had cost your father either his life or his liberty? it was a great undertaking for a lad, and i wonder indeed that your mother, after the losses she had suffered, permitted you to enter upon it. well, contrary to all human anticipations, you have succeeded in one half of it, and you will, i trust, succeed in the other. what seemed hardly possible--that you should enter the castle of reggio as one of its conquerors, and so have free access to the secrets of its prison--has been accomplished; and if garibaldi succeeds in carrying his arms farther, and other prison doors are opened, we may yet find your father. what you have told me has explained what has hitherto been a puzzle to me: why i should have been treated as a special prisoner, and kept in solitary confinement. now i understand it. england had taken the matter up; and as the government of naples had denied all knowledge of me, it was necessary that neither any prisoner, who, perhaps, some day might be liberated, nor any prison official should know me, and be able to report my existence to the british representative. you may be sure that, had your father come here, and examined every prisoner and official, privately, he would have obtained no intelligence of me. giuseppe borani would not have been here, he would have been removed, and none would dream that he was the prisoner for whom search was made. and now tell me briefly about this expedition of garibaldi. is all europe at war, that he has managed to bring an army here?" "first of all, grandfather, i must tell you what happened last year." he then related the incidents of the war of 1859, whereby france and sardinia united and wrested milan and lombardy from the austrians; the brilliant achievements of the garibaldians; the disappointment felt by italy at nice and a part of savoy being handed over to napoleon as the price of the services that he had rendered; how bologna and florence, palma, ferrara, forli, and ravenna, had all expelled their rulers and united themselves with sardinia; and how, garibaldi having been badly treated and his volunteers disbanded, he himself had retired disappointed and hurt to caprera. then he related briefly the secret gathering of the expedition; the obstacles thrown in its way; its successful landing in sicily, and the events that had terminated with the expulsion of the neapolitan forces from the island. "garibaldi began with but a thousand men," he said in conclusion. "he is now at the head of twenty thousand, and it will grow every hour; for we have news of risings throughout southern calabria. if a thousand sufficed for the conquest of sicily, twenty thousand will surely be sufficient for that of the mainland. the easy capture of this place will strike terror into the enemy, and raise the enthusiasm of the troops and the calabrians to the utmost. garibaldi has but four thousand men with him now; but by this time to-morrow ten thousand at least will have crossed, and i think it is possible that we shall reach naples without having to fight another battle. at any rate, one pitched battle should be enough to free all southern italy. the papal states will come next, and then, as garibaldi hopes, venice; though this will be a far more serious affair, for the austrians are very different foes from the neapolitans, and have the advantage of tremendously strong fortifications, which could only be taken by siege operations with heavy artillery, and certainly could not be accomplished by troops like garibaldi's. "now about my father. supposing him to be alive, where do you think he would most probably be imprisoned?" "there is no saying. that he is alive, i feel confident--unless, indeed, he died in prison from the effect of the wound given him when he was captured. that he did not die when in the hands of the brigands, we may take to be certain, for his grave must in that case have been discovered. he must have been handed over to a party of police sent to fetch him by previous agreement with the brigands, and would have been confined in some place considered especially secure from search. i should fancy that he is probably in naples itself,--there are several large prisons there. then there would be the advantage that, if the british government had insisted upon a commission of their own officers searching these prisons, he could be removed secretly from one to another, so that before the one in which he was confined could be examined, he would have been taken to another, which had been previously searched. "his case was a more serious one than mine. although i was a naturalised british subject, i had gone of my own free will to italy, in the vain belief that i should be unmolested after so long an absence; and probably there would have been no stir in the matter had not your father taken it up so hotly, and by the influence he possessed obtained permission to search the dungeons. but, as i said, his case was a far more serious one. he went out backed by the influence of the british government; he was assisted by the british legation; he held the order of the neapolitan government for admission to all prisons. thus, had it been found that he had, in spite of their own so-called safe-conduct, been seized and imprisoned, the british fleet would have been in the bay of naples in a very short time--especially as his letters, as you tell me, created so much feeling throughout the country. therefore it would be an almost vital question for the government to maintain the story they had framed, and to conceal the fact that, all the time they were asserting that he had been captured and killed by the brigands, he was in one of their own prisons. "i may say frankly that they would unhesitatingly have had him killed, perhaps starved to death in a cell, were it not that they would have put it in the power of some official or other to betray them: a discovery that would have meant the fall of the government, possibly the dethronement of the king. had he been an italian, he would assuredly have been murdered, for it would not have paid any prison official to betray them; whereas, being an englishman of distinction, in whose fate the british government had actively interested itself, any man who knew the facts could have obtained a reward of a very large amount indeed for giving information. that is the sole reason, frank, that leads me to believe that he may still be alive. he was doubtless imprisoned under another name, just as i was; but at least it would be known to the men that attended upon him that he was an englishman, and these could scarcely have avoided suspecting that he was the man about whom such a stir had taken place. the government had already incurred a tremendous risk by his seizure; but this would have been far greater had foul means been used to get rid of him in prison. "in the former case, should by any extraordinary chance his existence have become known to the british legation, they would have framed some deliberate lie to account for their ignorance of his being captain percival. they might, for instance, assert that he had been taken prisoner in the mountains, with a party of brigands; that his assertions that he was an englishman had been wholly disbelieved, for he would naturally have spoken in italian, and his italian was so good that any assertions he made that he was an englishman would have been wholly discredited. that is merely a rough guess at the story they might have invented, for probably it would have been much more plausible; but, however plausible, it would not have received the slightest credit had it been found that he had been foully done to death. "it is difficult, frank, when one is discussing the probable actions of men without heart, honour, or principle, and in deadly fear of discovery, to determine what course they would be likely to take in any particular circumstances. now, the first thing that i have to do is to cross to messina, and to telegraph and afterwards to write to my wife. can i telegraph?" "yes, but not direct: the regular line is that which crosses the straits to this town and then goes up through italy. that, of course, we have not been able to use, and could not use it now. all messages have been sent by the line from cape passaro to malta, and thence through sardinia and corsica to spezzia. you can send a message by that. there will be no difficulty in getting a boat across the straits. you see the war-ships have steamed away. as soon as the castle was taken they found that their anchorage was within range of its guns. they fired a few shots into the town when the castle was bombarding it, and then retired. i believe that all through the men of the navy have been very reluctant to act against us, except, of course, at palermo." "then i will go at once. it is strange to me to be able to say i will go." "very well, grandfather. of course you have no money, but i can supply you with as much as you like. i have plenty of funds. i can't say where you will find me when you come back, but you will only have to enquire where garibaldi himself is: i am sure to be with him." "i shall stay a couple of days there. after that hard pallet and prison fare i cannot resist the temptation of a comfortable bed, a well-furnished room, and a civilised meal, especially as i am not likely to find any of these things on the way to naples." "by the way, i should think you could telegraph from here," frank said. "garibaldi sent off a message to messina directly the castle was taken." "then let us do so by all means." they went at once to the telegraph office, and from there the professor sent the following message: "dearest wife, frank has found and released me. am well and in good health. shall write fully this evening. shall accompany him and aid in his search for leonard. love to muriel.--forli." having handed this in, they went down to the shore again, and had no difficulty in hiring a boat. frank took twenty sovereigns from his belt. "you will want all this, grandfather, for indeed you must have an entirely new fit-out." "i suppose i must. there has not been much wear-and-tear in clothes, but three years is a long time for a single suit to last, and i have lately had some uneasiness as to what i should do when these things no longer hung together; and i certainly felt a repugnance to asking for a prison suit. i must decidedly go and get some clothes fit to be seen in before i present myself at an hotel. no respectable house would take me in as i am." "will you have more, sir? i can let you have fifty if you would like it." "no, my boy, i don't want to be encumbered with luggage. a suit besides that i shall wear, and a change of underclothes, will suffice. these can be carried in a small hand-bag, and whether we walk, or ride, i can take it with me." after seeing signor forli off, frank returned to the castle. "where is the professor?" garibaldi asked, when he reported himself as ready for duty. "i have just seen him off to messina, general. he is sorely in need of clothes, and he wants to write a long letter home, and he could scarcely find a quiet room where he could do so in reggio. he will rejoin us as we advance." "that is the wisest thing he could do; for although he looks wonderfully well, he can hardly be capable of standing much fatigue after taking no exercise for three years. he will have a great deal to learn as to what has taken place since he has been here, for i don't suppose the prisoners heard a whisper of the great changes in northern italy." "i told him in a few words, sir, but i had no time to give him any details." at reggio twenty-six guns, five hundred muskets, and a large quantity of coal, ammunition, provisions, horses, and mules were captured. on the following morning, major nullo and the guides with a battalion were thrown out towards san giovanni. there was no other forward movement. the general was occupied in receiving deputations from many towns and villages, and there were arrangements to be made for the transport of such stores and ammunition as were likely to be required. the garibaldians had crossed in large numbers. cosenz and medici, with a considerable portion of their commands, were already over, and the former had gone up into the hills. the next morning garibaldi with two thousand men and six captured field-pieces moved forward. it was possible that they would meet with opposition at san giovanni, and they had scarcely started when a messenger arrived from nullo. believing from the reports of the countrymen that the neapolitans were retiring, he had ridden on with six of the guides, till to his astonishment, at a bridge crossing a ravine close to that town, he came upon two squadrons of neapolitan lancers. with great presence of mind, he and his men had drawn their revolvers and summoned the officers in command to surrender. "surrender to whom?" the latter asked. "to garibaldi: he is ready to attack at once, if you refuse." "i will take you to the general," the officer said. to him nullo repeated his command. "i have no objection to confer with garibaldi himself," the general said, "and will go with you to him." "i cannot take you," nullo said: "my instructions are simply to demand your surrender; but i will go myself and inform him of your readiness to meet him. in the meantime, i demand that you withdraw your lancers from the bridge, which must be considered as the boundary between the two forces. you can leave two men on your side, and i will leave two on mine." to this the general agreed; and posting two of his men at the bridge, another was sent back to beg garibaldi to hurry up the troops. messengers went backward and forward between general melendis and garibaldi, who was marching forward with all haste. but, as the terms the latter laid down were that the troops should give up their arms and then be allowed to march away, no agreement was arrived at, and the neapolitans evacuated the town and took up a very strong position on the hill-side above it. they were two thousand five hundred strong, with five guns. in the evening garibaldi with two thousand men arrived near the place, and sending forward two companies to the bridge, made a circuit through the hills, and took up a position above and somewhat in rear of the neapolitans. a messenger was sent to cosenz, who was seventeen miles away, ordering him to start at once, and, if possible, arrive in the morning. a body of calabrian peasantry undertook to watch the enemy, and the garibaldians, wrapping themselves in their blankets, lay down for the night. before daybreak they were on their feet, and moved down the hill. the enemy opened fire with shell, but only two or three men fell, and the fire was not returned. on arrival at a spot where they were sheltered from the fire, garibaldi sent in a messenger with a flag of truce, renewing the offer of terms. the neapolitans shot the bearer of the flag as he approached them, but afterwards offered to treat. garibaldi, however, greatly angered at this violation of the laws of war, replied at first that he would now accept nothing but unconditional surrender. an armistice was however granted, to enable the general to communicate with general braganti. this afforded time, too, for cosenz to arrive from salerno, and for bixio, whose brigade had remained at reggio, to bring up some guns; these were posted so as to entirely cut the neapolitan line of retreat. at five o'clock garibaldi sent an order to the neapolitans to lay down their arms within a quarter of an hour, or he would advance. their general, seeing that he could not now hope to be reinforced, and that he was completely surrounded, assented to the demand. his soldiers piled their arms and soon fraternised with the garibaldians, many of them showing unconcealed pleasure that they had not been called upon to oppose those who had come to free their country. the greater portion of them threw away their accoutrements, and even their caps, and then dispersed, a few starting to join the main force under viarli, the greater portion scattering to their homes. the fort by the water's edge below the town had also surrendered. this was an important capture, as it possessed several heavy guns; and these, with those of faro on the opposite shore, commanded the straits, consequently the neapolitan ships could not pass on their way up towards naples, but were forced to retire through the other end and to make their way entirely round the island, thus leaving the passage between messina and the mainland entirely open. at daybreak garibaldi started at the head of cosenz's column for alta-fiumara, which the first party of garibaldians that landed had failed to capture. this, after a short parley, surrendered on the same terms as those granted the day before, and the men, throwing away their shakoes and knapsacks, started for their various homes. three miles farther, the castle of scylla surrendered, the national guard of the town having taken up arms and declared for garibaldi as soon as they heard that he was coming. bagnara had also been evacuated, viarli having withdrawn with his force and marched to monteleone. a halt was made here. the strictest orders had been given by garibaldi against plundering or in any way giving cause for hostility among the peasantry. sentries were posted, and one of the soldiers found stealing grapes was shot--an example which prevented any repetition of the offence. that evening frank, who was down on the shore, watching the men from messina being landed from several steamers, saw signor forli. "it is lucky indeed that i was down here," he said, "for every house in the town is full of troops, and you might have searched all night without finding me. it is quite useless to look for a bed now, and, indeed, the houses are so crowded that i had made up my mind to sleep here, and i should recommend you to do the same. i see you have got a blanket with you. it will be much cooler and more pleasant than indoors." "i will do so gladly, frank. it will be a fresh luxury for me to see the stars overhead as i lie, and the sand is quite as soft as any of these italians beds are likely to be." frank had indeed slept out every night since the garibaldians first landed. it saved the trouble of endeavouring to find accommodation, and enabled him to have a swim every morning to refresh him for his day's work. day after day the garibaldians marched on without encountering resistance. it was indeed a procession rather than a military advance. the country was lovely, the weather superb. at each village they were saluted by numbers of the country people, who had come down to greet them. they were all armed, and numbers of them joined the garibaldians. they were, for the most part, of fine physique, with handsome faces, and the women of this coast were famous for their beauty. the greek element was still predominant, and in many of the villages no other language was spoken. in the towns, the national guard were drawn up to receive their deliverers with all honour, and the inhabitants of all classes vied with each other in their hospitality. frank had been unable to buy a horse, but had succeeded in purchasing a donkey, on which the professor sat placidly smoking as they went along, with one marching column or another. cosenz's division generally led the way, followed by those of medici and ebers, while bixio followed in the rear, his division having already had their share of glory in sicily and at reggio. the main neapolitan army, retiring from monteleone, passed through each town only a few hours ahead of the garibaldians. the people reported that great insubordination existed among them. general braganti had been shot by his own men at bagnara; the other generals were accused by their men of treachery, and great numbers of these had deserted; and the garibaldians felt that if they could but overtake the retreating foe victory was certain. orders had been sent round by garibaldi to all the villagers that the men were to meet him at maida; and leaving the army at two o'clock in the morning, he, with a few of his staff, rode across the mountain to that town. the calabrians, eager to fight, had obeyed the order, but with some disappointment; for had they been left to themselves they would have occupied the terrible gorges through which the retreating neapolitans would have to pass, and taking their posts among inaccessible hills, would have almost annihilated them. but garibaldi was on all occasions most anxious to prevent bloodshed, and would never fight unless his foes forced him to do so; and it was for this reason that he had ordered the calabrians to meet him at maida, thereby preventing them from occupying the pass. frank, as one of his aides-de-camp, rode with him, the professor preferring to move forward at the more comfortable pace of the marching column. ordering the calabrians to follow, garibaldi went on from maida to tyrola, situated on the backbone of the apennines, and commanding a view of the sea on either hand. arriving there, he found that the neapolitans were but a mile ahead. he therefore halted for an hour, and then rode seven miles farther to samprotro, where he saw the rearguard of the enemy not more than half a mile ahead. leaving a few armed peasants to watch them, garibaldi and his staff went quietly to bed. in the morning they again started in pursuit, at the head of two thousand calabrians. the peasants brought in news that the enemy had halted at a village seven miles ahead, and were endeavouring to obtain food. the calabrians, when they approached the place, were sent forward as skirmishers; the head of cosenz's column was now but a short distance in the rear. colonel peard, who had ridden with garibaldi, was in advance, with three calabrians, when, at a turn of the road, he came upon seven thousand infantry, cavalry, and artillery, huddled together without any appearance of regularity. he rode up at once to the nearest officers, and called upon them to surrender. they took him to ghio, their general, who, saying to peard that it was not customary to talk so loud before the soldiers, asked him to step aside; and on being told that he was surrounded, and had no choice between surrendering and being annihilated, he agreed at once to send an officer to garibaldi. while the officer was absent, the disposition of the troops manifested itself: many of them at once threw down their arms and accoutrements and started on the road, or made their way up the hill. in a few minutes the officer returned with garibaldi's conditions, which were surrender and disarmament, when the troops would be allowed to leave, on their promise not to serve again. in an hour there was not a neapolitan left in the place; and the garibaldians, who had marched thirty miles that day, halted to allow the rest of the troops to come up. there was, indeed, no further occasion for haste. it was morally certain that no battle would be fought before they reached naples. the neapolitan troops were hopelessly dispirited, and the greater part would gladly have thrown away their arms and returned to their homes; the minority, who were still faithful to their oath, were bitterly humiliated at the manner in which large bodies of men had surrendered without striking a blow, and at the way in which the main force fled, as hastily as if it had suffered a disgraceful defeat, at the approach of the garibaldians. already naples was almost in a state of insurrection; and in the other towns the whole populace had risen, and the neapolitan authorities were powerless. "it is wonderful," signor forli, who arrived on the following morning, said to frank, "that the calabrians should have remained passive for a couple of centuries under the rule of a people so much inferior to themselves. that sicily should do so, i am not surprised. its population is not to be compared in physique with these grand fellows. among the mountains of sicily, no doubt, there may be a finer type of people than those of the plains and sea-coast; but, as you have told me, although as pleased as a crowd of children at a new game, they did little to aid garibaldi to free them, and messina once taken, the number that enlisted with him was small indeed. here the population have joined to a man; and what splendid men they are! had they all risen together before, there would have been no need for a garibaldi. what could an army, however numerous, of the frivolous population of naples have done against them? "there are hundreds of passes and ravines. we have ourselves marched through a score that might have been held by a handful of determined men against an army. i believe that it is the fear of cannon rather than of soldiers that has enabled a decaying power, like that of naples, to maintain its hold. cannon would be useful in a mountainous country for those who have to defend the passes, but it is of little avail to an invader: it is notorious that, even on the plains, vastly more men are killed by bullets than by shell. one thing that no doubt has kept the calabrians from rising, as a body, is that blood feuds exist among them, as in corsica. the number of crosses that you have seen by the roadside mark the number of the victims of these quarrels. each little village stands apart from the rest, and there has been no centre round which the country could gather. there has been, in fact, a community of interest, but no community of feeling; and the consequence is, risings have been always partial, and there has been nothing like one determined effort by all calabria to win its freedom." chapter xvi. naples. the resemblance between colonel peard and garibaldi was so great that, being similarly dressed, the englishman, pushing on so far in advance, was everywhere taken for the general, and he utilised this likeness to the utmost. the news of his rapid approach hastened the retreat of the neapolitans. he sent fictitious telegrams to their generals as from private friends, magnifying garibaldi's forces, and representing that he was taking a line that would cut them off from naples, and so sent them hurrying away at full speed and adding to the alarm and confusion of the government. "i suppose we had better push on with garibaldi, grandfather?" frank said one day, as they finished an unusually long march. "certainly, frank," signor forli said, somewhat surprised; "we shall be in naples in another three or four days. i am sure garibaldi will not wait for his troops; he was saying to me yesterday that he was most anxious to enter the city, as he had notice from a friend that cavour's party were hard at work trying to organise a general rising of the city before he arrives, and the issue of a manifesto declaring victor emmanuel king of italy and inviting him to come at once. this garibaldi is determined not to allow. he has from the first always declared that he came in the name of the king, and that when his work was done he would hand over southern italy to him. you know his loyalty and absolute disinterestedness; and the idea that he would endeavour to obtain any advantage for himself is absurd. "if he had chosen, instead of accepting the dictatorship of sicily he could have been elected king; and assuredly it is the same thing here. he is the people's hero and saviour; the very name of the king of sardinia is scarcely known in sicily, and excites no interest whatever. it is the same thing in calabria: the enthusiasm is all for garibaldi, and had he consented to accept the crown he would have been elected unanimously. his wish and hope is to present to victor emmanuel southern italy cleared of all enemies, complete and undivided; and yet, rather than so receive it, cavour, farina, and the rest of them are intriguing at naples, as they intrigued in sicily, in order that the king should appear to take this wide accession of territory as the expression of the will of the people, and not from the hand of garibaldi. "it is pitiful to see such mean jealousy. in time, no doubt, even had there not been a garibaldi, this would have come about, but it might have been fifteen or twenty years hence; and had it been done by means of a royal army, france and austria would probably both have interfered and demanded compensation, and so left italy still incomplete. it is the speed with which the change has been effected, and i may say the admiration with which europe has viewed it, and the assurance of the government at turin that it has had no hand in this business, but has taken all means in its power to prevent it, that has paralysed opposition. i trust that all these intrigues will fail, and that garibaldi may have the sole honour that he craves--namely, that of presenting the kingdom of the two sicilies to victor emmanuel. should cavour's intrigues succeed, and garibaldi be slighted, it will be the blackest piece of ingratitude history has ever recorded. however, why do you ask 'shall we go on to naples?' i thought that you were burning to get there." "i am; but you see we are passing, without time for making any investigations, many places where my father, if alive, may be in prison. at potenza, for example, i know that a large number of political prisoners are confined, and doubtless it is the same at many other towns. i cannot bear to think of the possibility that he may be in one of these, and that we have passed him by." "i can quite understand your feelings, frank; but you know we are agreed that it is at naples we shall most probably find him, if he is still alive. bad as the prisons may be in other places, they are more loosely managed; there would be fewer conveniences for keeping one prisoner apart from the others, while there are ample opportunities in those of naples for many to be kept in secret confinement. certainly i was so kept myself at reggio; but that was a royal fortress, and though used as a prison for political offenders, there were no malefactors there. in the jails in the provincial towns this could not be so, and i know that prisoners are all mixed up together, save those who can afford to pay, who can live in comparative comfort, while the rest are herded together anyhow, and can scarcely exist upon the rations allowed to them. the more i think of it, the more i am convinced that it is at naples that we must look for your father. now that we have arrived at salerno, and that, as we hear, the neapolitan troops are falling back from the capital, and taking up their position round capua and gaeta, there can be little doubt that garibaldi will, in a day or two, go forward. there is, indeed, nothing to prevent you and me from going by train there to-morrow, if you lay aside that red shirt and scarf, and dress in clothes that will attract no attention. but i do not see that anything would be gained by it; you will still have to wait until garibaldi is supreme there, and his orders are respected, and you may be sure that, as soon as he is in power, his first step will be to throw open the prisons and release all who are charged with political offences, to order these hideous dungeons to be permanently closed, and to thoroughly reorganise the system. you have told me that he did this at palermo, and he will certainly do the same at naples." four days later the king issued a farewell notice to the people, and left naples for gaeta; and three hours afterwards romano, his minister, who had drawn up his farewell, addressed the following telegram to garibaldi:-"to the invincible dictator of the two sicilies.--naples expects you with anxiety to confide to you her future destiny.--entirely yours, liborio romano." a subsequent letter informed him that at a meeting of the ministers it had been decided that the prince of alessandria, syndic of naples, should go to salerno, with the commander of the national guard, to make the arrangements for his entry into the capital. garibaldi, however, did not wait. were he to arrive at the head of his troops, the neapolitan garrisons of the castle and other strong places in the city might oppose him by force; and, as ever, wishing to avoid bloodshed, he determined to rely solely upon the populace of naples. he at once ordered a small special train to be prepared. "i am only taking with me," he said to frank, "a few of my staff. you will be one of the number: you have a right to it, not only as the representative of your mother, to whose aid we are largely indebted for our being now here, but for your own personal services. signor forli shall also go: he stood by me on the walls of rome twelve years ago, he has suffered much for his principles, he is your mother's father, therefore he too shall come." there were but four carriages on the little train that left at nine o'clock in the morning on the 7th of september for naples. cosenz, and thirteen members of the staff, represented the national army; the remaining seats being occupied by various personal friends and two or three newspaper correspondents. "'tis an affair not without risk," signor forli said to frank, as they walked towards the station. "that the people will receive garibaldi with enthusiasm is certain, but the attitude of the troops is very doubtful. certainly the flower of the neapolitan army will have been left in garrison at naples; and if but a score of these remain faithful to the bourbons, garibaldi's life may be sacrificed. however, i cannot believe that providence will permit one who has done so great and mighty a work to perish, just at the moment of the completion of his enterprise." the station-master at salerno, as soon as the train had started, flashed the news to the various stations on the road; and the consequence was, that at every village the people assembled, and when half the journey was done the crowds were so vast, that they overflowed on to the line, and the train was brought to a standstill. national guards climbed on to the roofs of the carriages, and decorated them with flags and evergreens. at torre del greco, resina, and portici, progress became almost impossible, and the train had to proceed at a snail's pace to naples. here the authorities had prevented all access to the station, but outside the scene was an extraordinary one: horses and carriages, men and women of the highest and of the lowest classes; national guards and gendarmes, members of bertani's and the cavourian committees, were all crowded in confusion together. the houses were decorated with flags and tapestry, and thronged with eager spectators from basement to roof; and as missori and three others rode out from the station on horseback, followed by garibaldi in an open carriage with cosenz, and by a dozen other carriages containing his staff and those who had arrived with him, the roar of welcome was overpowering. it was with the greatest difficulty that the horsemen cleared the way; for all along the road the crowd was as great as at the station. the attitude of the troops, however, at the various points where they were massed, was sullen and threatening. at castel nuovo the guns were pointed on the road; the troops stood ready to fire. one shot, and the course of history might have been changed. garibaldi ordered his coachman to drive slower, and sat in his carriage calmly, with his eyes fixed upon the troops. one officer gave the order to fire; but he was not obeyed. the calmness and daring of the lion-like face filled the soldiers with such admiration that, for the moment, their hostility evaporated; and while some of them saluted as if to a royal personage, others took off their hats and burst into a cheer. garibaldi acknowledged it by lifting his hat, and by a cheery wave of his hand, and drove on as calmly as before. in the carriages behind, all had held their breath at the critical moment. "what an escape! what an escape!" signor forli murmured to frank, who was sitting next to him. "had but one musket been fired, we should all have been dead men in a minute or two; and, what is of more consequence, the freeing of italy must have been postponed for twenty years." "it was horribly close," frank said. "i would rather go through ten hand-to-hand fights, than another time like the last three minutes; it has made me feel quite queer, and i own that what you say about putting back italian freedom for twenty years never entered my mind. the one thought i had was, that we were all going to be smashed up without having the chance of striking a single blow. i went through some pretty sharp fighting at palermo, but i was always doing something then, and did not think of the danger. i don't mind saying that i was in a blue funk just now." garibaldi drove straight, as was the custom of kings on first entering naples, to the palace of the archbishop. here the te deum was sung; and he then went on to the palace of angri, where he and his staff took up their quarters. vast crowds assembled outside the palace, and the general had to appear again and again on the balcony in reply to the roars of acclamation from the enthusiastic population. general cosenz, who was himself a neapolitan, was appointed to organise a government. this he did to the general satisfaction--moderate men only being chosen. garibaldi requested admiral persano in the name of victor emmanuel to take command of the neapolitan navy, decreeing that it should form part of the sardinian squadron; and appointed to the pro-dictatorship the marquis of pallavicini, a staunch friend of the king. he had offered signor forli an apartment in the palace, and as soon as the first excitement had ceased the latter said to frank, who had at salerno received the portmanteau he had left at genoa:-"let us go out and see the state of the city. but before we do so, you had best put on your ordinary clothes: we should simply be mobbed if you were to go out as one of garibaldi's officers." "yes; we have had quite enough of that as we came along," frank said. "it will really be a comfort to go about for once in peace and quiet." they started in a few minutes, leaving the palace by one of the side entrances, and soon mingled in the crowd. the people seemed half mad with delight. as soon as the news of garibaldi's arrival spread through the town every house was decorated, and the whole population poured out into the streets. among the better classes the joy that the government of the bourbons had come to an end, and that the constitutional government, which had done so much for northern italy, would succeed the despotism which had pressed so heavily on all with anything to lose, was deep and sincere. among the lower classes the enthusiasm manifested was but the excitement of some few minutes, and had francesco returned a month later, at the head of his victorious troops, they would have shouted as lustily. it was a fête, a special fête, and it mattered but little to the fickle and excitable population what was its cause. but here, as on all occasions when italian people give way to bursts of enthusiasm, foreigners were struck with the perfect good-temper, the orderly behaviour, and the entire absence of drunkenness, among the population. in paris the first step of people excited by a change of government would have been to fall upon those whom they considered to be the agents of their oppressors. the gendarmes, who had so long been feared, would not have dared show themselves in the streets; the emblems of royalty would have been torn down in the public buildings; the members of the last government would have been forced to fly for their lives. there was a little of this in naples, but, as in venice, six years later, this feeling of animosity for the past speedily passed away. but how faint was the feeling of real patriotism in the minds of the neapolitans is shown by the fact that only one inhabitant of the city joined garibaldi's army; that not a single house was open for the reception of his officers or soldiers; that after the battle of volturno hundreds of wounded men were left lying all day on the pavements without aid or nourishment, without a single mattress being found for them to lie upon, by the inhabitants. never, except by the king of italy and the civil and military authorities of piedmont to garibaldi and his followers, who had won a kingdom for them, was such national ingratitude displayed as by the people of naples. "it is pleasant to see," signor forli said, as he and frank wandered about; "but it would be far more pleasant if one did not know that it means absolutely nothing. you have told me that it was the same thing at messina: that, in spite of garibaldi's appeal to the ladies of the place, they did nothing whatever to aid the wounded in the hospitals--never contributed so much as a piece of lint or material for bandages; and, frivolous as the people there are, these in naples are worse. if all italy were like the neapolitans, the country would not be worth shedding a drop of blood for. however, one must make some allowances for them. for centuries they have been slaves rather than free people; they have had no voice as to their own disposal, they could not express even an opinion on public affairs, without risking imprisonment or death; there has been nothing left for them but to amuse themselves; they have been treated like children at school, and they have become children. we can only hope that in time, under a free government, they will grow worthy of freedom, worthy of forming a part of an italy to which the lombards, the piedmontese, and the calabrians belong." it was already late in the afternoon, and until some of the troops arrived it would be impossible to take any steps with relation to public buildings. the castle of st. elmo, and the prison of santa maria, with many other places, were still in the hands of the neapolitan soldiers, whose attitude continued to be hostile, and until these retired nothing could be done; and it was by no means certain that the guns at st. elmo, which completely commanded the town, might not at any moment open fire. "i can well understand your impatience to get rid of these troops from the city," garibaldi said the next morning. "i do not forget, percival, the main object that you had in view, and i too long for the time when i may clasp the hand of my old comrade of south america and rome. i promise you that the moment the prisons are evacuated you shall go with the party who will search them, and search them strictly. you know what these jailors are: they are the creatures of the worst men of francesco's government. by years of cruelty and oppression they have earned for themselves the hatred of every one within the walls of the prisons and of their friends and relatives. our victory means their dismissal--that is, as soon as the prisons are cleaned from the lowest dungeons to the roofs. that they shall superintend: it is they who are responsible for it, and they themselves shall be engaged in the work of purification. it may well be that they will try to hide the lowest and worst dungeons from our search, partly from fear that the natural and righteous indignation excited by the discoveries may end in their being promptly punished with death for their accumulated crimes, partly in hopes that the royal troops may yet overcome us and restore francesco to his throne; in which case they would receive approval for still retaining some of the worst victims of the tyranny of his government." "you may be sure that i shall search them thoroughly, general." on going out, they found the streets were still thronged by an almost frenzied populace. these invaded the hotels and cafés, and pressed all they could lay hands on to join in the demonstrations. a few murders were perpetrated; the state of things prevailing affording an excellent opportunity for satisfying private revenge, as it needed only a cry that the victim was a spy of the government to justify it in the eyes of the bystanders. in the quarter nearest to st. elmo the enthusiasm had a good deal cooled down, as the fear that the guns of the castle might at any moment open fire for the time dissipated any desire for marching about and acclaiming garibaldi. at four o'clock, however, it was known that two officers of the castle had gone down to the palace, and at six the welcome news spread that the garrison had capitulated, and would march out on the following morning. frank had little sleep that night. all along his hopes had been high that he should find his father here; but now that the question would be so soon decided, his fears were in the ascendant. he remembered that the evidence in favour of his father's death was extremely strong, the only hopeful fact being that his body had not been discovered. so slight did even his mother and signora forli deem the chance of his being alive, that for two years neither had breathed a word to the other as to the existence of a possibility that he might be still living. undoubtedly the release of his grandfather had increased his own hope, but he felt now that there was but small ground for the feeling. had his father been hidden away in a fortress, he might also have survived; but the probabilities seemed altogether against this. it was not until midday that st. elmo was evacuated, and several companies of the national guard marched in. a colonel of the staff had, with frank, been charged with the duty of searching the dungeons. they had brought with them fifty lazzaroni, who had been engaged for this repulsive work. a dozen of the garibaldian troops were to accompany them; the prison officials were all ordered to go with the party, and they, as well as the lazzaroni, were told to bring pails and brooms. the castle of st. elmo covers an area of no less than four acres; it was cut out of the solid rock, and is surrounded by a sunken ditch, sixty or seventy feet deep, and fifty wide. this great mass of stone is honeycombed in every direction with a network of corridors and subterranean apartments, and there is ample space to hold several thousand prisoners. the upper tiers of chambers were fairly clean; these were, in fact, the barracks of the troops. the guns looked out from embrasures. several batteries of field artillery, with waggons and all fittings, still remained there, and the chambers were littered with rubbish of all kinds, discarded by the troops before leaving. it was not here that prisoners were to be found. the national guard had already opened the doors of the cells and chambers in the stage below, and had liberated those confined there; the work of searching those still lower began at once. the extent was so vast and the windings were so intricate that the work seemed interminable. in order to make sure that each passage had been searched, a pail of whitewash was sent for, and a splash made at each turning. each story was darker, and the air more stifling, than that above it, for they were now far below the level of the castle itself. frank had taken the advice of signor forli, and had bought several bundles of the strongest cigars; and he and the officer in command, the officer of the national guard who attended them and the soldiers all smoked incessantly. at the worst places the lazzaroni and turnkeys were set to work with their buckets and brooms. it was not until late in the evening that they came to the conclusion that every cell and chamber had been searched. about a hundred and fifty prisoners had been found and released, but among them frank looked in vain for his father. the lowest dungeons of all had been found empty; and this, and the solemn assurances of all the prison officials, who had been threatened with instant death should further search discover any prisoners, convinced him that at any rate his father was not there. the next day the neighbouring prison of santa maria was searched. it had formerly been a monastery, and the upper cells were lofty and capacious. the jailors declared, indeed, that these were the only cells, but a careful search showed a door in the rock. this was burst open, and a series of subterranean passages was discovered. the jailors declared that these had never been used in their time, and, they believed, never before. that they had been used, however, was evident, from the marks where lamps had been hung on the walls, and by many other signs. no prisoners were found here, all having been released directly it was known that the garrison of the castle had capitulated. the search occupied the whole day, so extensive were the underground galleries; and a passage was discovered that evidently at one time formed a communication between st. elmo and this prison. as he came out into daylight, frank staggered, and would have fallen had not one of the soldiers caught him. he had been ill the night before; and the effects of the close air, noxious smells, and the work, which had been even more trying than on the previous day, and his bitter disappointment, had now completely overcome him. after some water had been dashed in his face and he had taken a draught of some wine which one of the prison officials fetched, he partially recovered. he was assisted by two of the garibaldians down the road to the town, and then, obtaining a vehicle, was driven to the palace, and managed with assistance to get up to his apartment. a minute or two later signor forli joined him, one of the attendants having summoned him as soon as frank arrived. "do not trouble to speak, my dear boy," he said. frank was lying on the bed sobbing convulsively. "you have failed--that i can well understand; but you must not altogether lose heart. we had thought this the most likely place; but there are still other prisons, and we will not give up hope until every one of these has been ransacked. i am sorry now that i did not accompany you, but i am afraid, after what i have gone through myself, that only a few minutes in one of those places would overpower me; and i wonder how you, young and strong as you are, were able to spend two days in such an atmosphere." "i shall be better to-morrow," frank said. "that last place was awful; but i think that it was as much the strong tobacco, as those horrible stinks, which upset me. it was a choice of two evils; but i would smoke even worse tobacco if i could get it, if i had to go through it again." "i will get you a glass of brandy and water, frank; that will do you more good than anything." the next morning frank was still too unwell to be able to get up; his failure had completely broken him down, and he felt indisposed to make the slightest exertion. at twelve o'clock, however, signor forli came in. "i have a piece of news to give you," he said, "news which affords us some shadow of hope that you have not failed altogether. last night i was talking with the general and one or two of his staff. garibaldi is, as you know, intensely interested in your search, and sympathises with you most warmly. suddenly he said, 'is it not possible that he may have been removed before the king and his court retired?' had percival been found in the prisons, it would have rendered the bad faith and mendacity of the government more glaring than ever, and would have deprived it of any little sympathy that was felt for it in england. therefore, feeling sure that the prisons would be searched as soon as i entered, percival, had he been here, may, with other special prisoners, have been sent to capua, which is so strongly fortified a place that they may well believe it to be impregnable to anything but a long siege by troops possessing a battering train." [illustration: "it was not until nullo ordered four men to load ... that he would answer"] frank sat up. "that is indeed a good idea," he exclaimed. "how stupid of me not to have thought of questioning the prison people! yes; it is quite likely that if any of the prisoners were removed, he would be one of them." "i have no doubt you would have thought of it, frank, if it had not been that you were completely upset by that strong tobacco. mind, i don't blame you for taking it: it is better to be poisoned with nicotine than by the stenches of a neapolitan prison. the thought only struck garibaldi after we had chatted over the matter for some time. i went over there this morning with colonel nullo. although the officials at first asserted that no prisoners had been taken away, they soon recovered their memories when he said that he would interrogate every one of the warders separately, and if he found that any prisoners had been sent away he would have them taken out into the courtyard and shot for lying to him. they then remembered that four prisoners had been taken away, but all declared with adjurations to all the saints that they did not know who they were: they were delivered over to them under numbers only. one had been there seven years, and two had been there five years, and one two years. again threatening to examine all the turnkeys, he learned that the last prisoner received had been confined in one of the lower dungeons, where they yesterday asserted that no one had for years been imprisoned; the other three were also kept in the most rigid seclusion, but in the upper cells. "i insisted on seeing the man who had attended on the prisoner kept in the lower cell. he was a surly ruffian, and it was not until nullo ordered four men to load, and to put the fellow with his back to the wall, that he would answer my questions. he said then that the prisoner was, he should say, between forty and fifty, but it was not easy to judge of age after a man had been below there for a few months. he had never said more than a few words to him, and it had never struck him that he was not an italian. i questioned him more closely as to this, and he admitted that he had sometimes, when he went down, heard the prisoner singing. he had listened, but could not understand the words, and they might have been in a foreign language. he had no more interest in that prisoner than in any other. he supposed, by his being sent down below there, that it was hoped he would die off as soon as possible. they seldom lived many months in those dungeons, but this man seemed tougher than usual, though his strength had failed a good deal lately. he was able to walk up from his cell to the carriage when he was taken away. now we mustn't feel too sanguine, frank, but although there is no proof that this prisoner is your father, the evidence, so far as it goes, is rather in favour of such a supposition than against it." "it is indeed," frank said eagerly. "the fact that they put him down into the cells where, as the man says, it was almost certain he would soon die, and that when it was found that he had not done so, he was at the last moment taken away, shows that there was some very strong motive for preventing the fact that he was a prisoner becoming public; and we know that they had the very strongest reason in the case of my father. the age would be about right, and the fact that he was singing would show, at any rate, that it was some one who was determined not to give in, but to keep up his spirits till the very last, and i am sure my father would have done that. well, i will get up now. i could not lie here quietly; it would be impossible, after what you have been telling me." "i think you are right, frank. i will have a basin of soup sent in for you. when you have eaten that, and dressed, we will take a carriage and go for a long drive by the road along the shore to pompeii. the sea-breeze will do you more good than anything, and the lovely view, and a stroll through pompeii itself, will distract your thoughts. there is nothing to be done until capua is taken, which may not be for a long time yet. however, events are moving. we hear that victor emmanuel and his government, alarmed at the success of garibaldi, and feeling that if they are to have any voice in the matter they must not be content to rest passive while he is carrying all before him, have resolved upon taking some part in the affair. under the pretext that in order to restore peace and order it is necessary that they should interfere, they are about to despatch an army to ancona by sea; and, landing there, will advance into central italy, and act, as they say, as circumstances may demand. all of which means, that now garibaldi has pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for them they will proceed to appropriate them." "it is too bad!" frank exclaimed angrily. "no doubt it is mean and ungracious in the extreme, but garibaldi will not feel it as other men would; he is human, and therefore he would like to present the kingdom of naples and the states of rome, free from the foreigner, to victor emmanuel. but that feeling, natural as it is, is but secondary to his loyalty to italy. he desires to see her one under victor emmanuel, and so long as that end is achieved he cares comparatively little how it comes about. moreover, he cannot but see that, though he has accomplished marvels, that which remains to be done would tax the power of his army to the utmost. the neapolitans have still some seventy thousand men, who are encouraged by their king being among them. they have in capua a most formidable fortress, which could defy the efforts of irregular troops, wholly unskilled in sieges and deficient in heavy guns, for many months. moreover, it would no longer be mountain warfare, but we should have to fight in plains where the enemy's cavalry would give them an enormous advantage. there is another thing: the intrigues of cavour's agents here are already giving him very serious trouble, and this will doubtless increase; therefore i can well understand that he will be glad rather than otherwise that sardinia at last should do her part towards the freeing of italy, from which she will benefit so vastly." chapter xvii. the battle of the volturno. before starting for his drive frank telegraphed to his mother: "have not found him here. i do not yet despair. have a faint clue that may lead to something." that evening he wrote a long letter, acknowledging that he had been bitterly disappointed, but saying that signor forli had found out that some of the prisoners had been sent away to capua before garibaldi entered the town, and that he still hoped his father might be among the number. he gave no detail as to these prisoners, for he was anxious not to raise hopes that might not be fulfilled; indeed, he had in all his letters said little on the subject. he knew his mother had refused to allow herself to cherish any hope, and he had written almost entirely of matters concerning the events of the march, the country through which he had travelled, and the scenes in which he had taken a part. he and signor forli had at salerno received long letters from home full of the delight which the news of the discovery and release of the latter had given them. his mother had said:-"this is a joy indeed, my boy--one that i had never expected, or even hoped for. but do not let yourself anticipate for a moment that because this unlooked-for happiness has been given to us our other dear lost one will similarly be recovered. that my father had been thrown into a neapolitan prison we never doubted for a moment; and i believed that, should he have survived, garibaldi's success would open his prison doors. but it is not so in the case of your father. the evidence is almost overwhelming that he died in the hands of the brigands who carried him off, and nothing short of knowing that he is alive will induce me to abandon the conviction i have all along felt that this was so. i pray you not to indulge in any false hopes, which can but end in bitter disappointment. you will, of course, search until absolutely convinced that he is not in any of the prisons of the country. the search will at least have been useful, for it will remove the last dread which, in spite of myself, i have occasionally felt ever since he has been missing, that he has been wearing his life out in one of these horrible dungeons." the next ten days passed slowly. frank and the other members of the staff had bought fresh horses a few days after the capture of reggio; and he was now constantly in the saddle, carrying messages between garibaldi's headquarters and the army. garibaldi himself had been distracted by the intrigues going on around him, and had been obliged to go to sicily. depretis, who had been appointed head of the government there, was inclined to the annexational policy, which was opposed by crispi and the other garibaldians, and the consequence was that an alarming state of affairs existed there. garibaldi was therefore obliged to hurry over there himself, and having appointed mordeni, a determined partisan of his own, pro-dictator, and arranged affairs generally, he returned to naples, where his presence was urgently required. [illustration: position round capua] the neapolitan army at capua had been very largely reinforced, and had taken post along the river volturno. turr, who was in command of the garibaldian army, had in consequence, taken up a defensive position at madelone, caserta and aversa, thereby barring any advance on the part of the royal army. the latter's position was an extremely formidable one: its right rested on gaeta near the sea, and forty thousand men were massed on the right bank of the volturno, a river which was here from fifty to a hundred yards in width, their left was at cajazzo, in the mountains of the abruzzi, where the inhabitants were favourable to the royal cause. capua itself, on the left bank of the river, afforded them a means of moving forward to the attack of the garibaldians. three sides of its fortifications were surrounded by the river, which here makes a great loop, and around the town twenty thousand men were massed, one half of whom were in position in front of it. the only bridge across the river was at capua, but there was a ferry near caserta. the position was so threatening that turr, who had under him about seventeen thousand men, pushed a force up to the town of santa maria and the heights of sant'angelo, both of which points were occupied after a skirmish. on the 17th, six hundred men were sent off to march far up the river, to cross it, and to throw themselves into the mountains above cajazzo, which was occupied by two thousand two hundred men with four guns. garibaldi arrived at caserta on the night of the 18th, but did not interfere with turr's command. in order to attract the attention of the enemy, and keep them from sending reinforcements to cajazzo, it was arranged that a feint should be made against capua: two battalions were to advance from aversa to menace the southwest of that town, six battalions were to advance directly against it from santa maria, and ebor's brigade was to march to sant'angelo, and then to drive the neapolitans on their left into capua, and to extend on the right along the hills as far as the road to cajazzo. the movement was completely successful. cajazzo was captured, and the force in front of capua obliged to retire under the guns of the citadel. some loss, however, was sustained, owing to the division from santa maria, instead of returning as soon as the work was done, being kept for four hours under the fire of the guns of the fortress, owing to a misconception of orders. the positions now taken were occupied in strength. the next day, six hundred and fifty men were sent off to cajazzo to strengthen the small force of three hundred there, as the place was attacked by no fewer than twelve thousand neapolitan troops. although without artillery, the town was desperately defended for four hours. the barricades at the end of the main streets were held, in spite of repeated attacks and the fire from eight guns. not until two hundred of the little force had fallen, did the garibaldians fall back, and they succeeded in crossing the river at the ferry, covered by two companies and a couple of guns, which had been posted at that point to prevent the neapolitans from crossing. there was an interval now: the garibaldians were far too weak to attack their numerous enemy, posted in an almost impregnable position. garibaldi was so much harassed by the political intriguers, that he left caserta every morning long before daybreak, and remained the whole day at a cottage on the heights of san antonio. he had already done all in his power to satisfy the royal party that he had no intention of favouring a republic. bertram, who had done so much for him as chief organiser and agent, was requested to leave rome. mazzini also was sent away, and other appointments were made, showing how bent he was on handing over his conquest to victor emmanuel. there can be no doubt now that it would have been far better had he from the first abandoned his wish not to present his conquests to the king until they were completed. had he, on his arrival at messina, at once declared victor emmanuel king of the island, and requested him to take possession, he would have allayed the jealousy and suspicion with which his movements were viewed by cavour and the piedmontese ministry. a similar course, as soon as naples was occupied, would have had a still greater effect, and both garibaldi himself and his brave followers would have been spared the bitter humiliations and the gross display of ingratitude, which, however, disgraced those who inflicted them far more than those so undeservedly treated. turr remained idle during the next six days, and beyond throwing up two or three small intrenchments, did nothing to strengthen the position. in fact, it was daily becoming more probable that there would be no further fighting. cialdini's division had landed near alcona, had defeated the army of lamoriciere, and was advancing westwards without opposition. fanti, with another army, had crossed the northern frontier of the neapolitan territory, and was marching south. thus, in a short time, the neapolitans would be surrounded by three armies, and would be forced to lay down their arms. on the 29th it became evident that a considerable movement was in progress on the other side of the river and fort. forty thousand men were being concentrated at capua and cajazzo. garibaldi's force, available in case of attack, was about twenty-four thousand men, of whom thirteen thousand were northern italians, eleven thousand calabrians and sicilians, and one inhabitant of naples. of these, two thousand five hundred were with conti at aversa, and over seven thousand at caserta; the remainder being at santa maria, sant'angelo, the village of santa lucia, and madalone. the position occupied was nearly thirty miles long, but the reserves at caserta and madalone, lying behind the centre, could be despatched speedily to any point required. frank had come out with garibaldi to caserta, and spent the whole of his time riding between the different points occupied, with communications from garibaldi to his generals. at three o'clock on the morning of october 1st, garibaldi started as usual for the front. frank, with two or three of the younger staff-officers, rode, and three carriages carried the general and the older members of the staff. they had scarcely left the town when a scattered fire of musketry was heard near santa maria. this rapidly increased in volume; and soon afterwards the guns at sant'angelo opened vigorously. when approaching the town, a mounted soldier, riding at a furious gallop, overtook them. he was the bearer of a message that a telegram had just been received from bixio, who was in command at madalone, saying that he was being assailed in great force. this was even more serious than the attack in front, for, if successful, it would have cut the communication between the garibaldians and naples. galloping on to santa maria, garibaldi sent a telegram to sartori, who commanded at caserta, to tell him to hold a brigade in readiness to support bixio if the latter was pressed; and that turr, with the rest of the reserves, was to hold himself in readiness to move to the front, but was only to send forward a single brigade, till quite assured of bixio's success. at santa maria were the greater part of the old cacciatori, with four thousand other good troops, and garibaldi felt confident that the town was in no danger of being taken. he accordingly started at once for sant'angelo, which was the key of his position. morning had broken now, but a heavy mist, rising from the low ground near the river, rendered it impossible to see more than a few yards. the din of conflict was prodigious. the garibaldian guns at santa maria kept up a desultory fire, answered by those of the neapolitans, and the rattle of musketry was incessant ahead, and, as it seemed, the fight was raging all round; but it was impossible to tell whether santa lucia and other posts to the right were also attacked. suddenly a volley was fired from an invisible enemy within a hundred yards. the balls whistled overhead. "this is uncomfortable," frank said to the officer riding next to him. "they have evidently broken through our line connecting sant'angelo with santa maria. if we had had a few earthworks thrown up this would not have happened. now they will be able to take sant'angelo in rear; and, what is much more important, we may at any moment run right into the middle of them, and the loss of garibaldi would be more serious than that of all our positions put together." the neapolitans had indeed issued out in three columns. one of them, pushing out under cover of the deep water-courses, had broken through the weak line, had captured a battery of four guns and a barricade, and had then mounted one of the spurs of tifata and taken sant'angelo in rear; while a second column, attacking it in front, had captured another four-gun battery and a barricade two hundred and fifty yards below the village on the capua road, and had taken two or three hundred prisoners, the rest of medici's division taking up their position in and around the abbey, which stood on the hillside above the village. [illustration: map of the battle of the volturno october 1860.] three of the guides, who had accompanied garibaldi to carry messages, and the three mounted staff officers, took their place in front of the carriages in readiness to charge should they come suddenly upon the enemy, and so give time to their occupants to escape. the horses were all galloping at full speed; and though occasionally caught sight of by the enemy, and exposed to a fire, not only of musketry but of round shot, they remained uninjured until two-thirds of the distance to sant'angelo, which garibaldi believed to be still in possession of his troops, had been covered. presently, however, they saw, but sixty or seventy yards away, a strong body of neapolitans on the road. "turn off to the right!" garibaldi shouted. as the carriage left the road a round shot struck one of the horses. garibaldi and the other occupants at once jumped out, and shouting to the carriages behind to follow them, ran across the fields. fortunately there was a deep watercourse close by; and the others, leaving their carriages, all ran down into this. the mist was too thick for the movement to be observed, and the neapolitans kept up a heavy fire in the direction in which they had seen the carriages through the mist. as soon as they entered the watercourse garibaldi told frank and his companions to dismount, as, although the bank was high enough to conceal the men on foot, those on horseback could be seen above it. all ran along at the top of their speed. as they did so, frank told his companions and the guides, if they came upon any force of the enemy, to throw themselves into their saddles again and charge, so as to give time to the general to turn off and escape. they had gone but a few hundred yards when a party of the enemy, who were standing on the left bank of the watercourse, ran suddenly down into it. frank and the others sprang into their saddles, and with a shout rode at them; there was a hurried discharge of musketry, and then they were in the midst of the neapolitans. these were but some twenty in number. they had already emptied their muskets, but for a minute there was a hand-to-hand contest. the horsemen first used their revolvers with deadly effect, and then fell on with their swords so fiercely that the survivors of their opponents scrambled out of the watercourse and fled, just as garibaldi and his staff ran up to take part in the conflict. it was well for the general that he had found the road to the village blocked, for, had he ridden straight on, he must have been captured by the enemy, who were already in full possession of it, with the exception of the abbey church and a few houses round it, and the slope of the hill. two of the mounted party were missing. one of the guides had fallen when the neapolitans fired, and an officer had been killed by the thrust of a bayonet. one of garibaldi's party was also missing; but whether he had been killed by a chance shot or had fallen behind and been taken prisoner none knew. as they ascended the slope of the hill they got above the mist, and could now see what had happened. a part of the column that had broken through the line of outposts had pressed on some distance, and then moved to its left, until in the rear of sant'angelo, where its attack had taken the defenders wholly by surprise. the force had then mounted the hill, and from there opened fire upon the defenders of the abbey and the houses round it. these were stoutly held. the houses were solidly-built structures in which resided the priests and servitors of the church, and the only road leading up from the village to it was swept by two twenty-four-pounders, while from the windows of the houses and from the roof of the abbey a steady musketry fire was maintained. garibaldi ordered frank to gallop to the pass, a short distance behind the village, where two companies of genoese carbineers and two mountain howitzers were posted, and to direct them to mount the hill and take up a position on the heights above that occupied by the enemy. with a cheer the men ran forward as soon as they received the order. ignorant of what was taking place in front, but certain from the roar of battle that it was raging round the village, they had been eager to advance to take part in the struggle; but their orders to hold the pass had been imperative, as their presence here was indispensable to cover the retreat of the garibaldians in sant'angelo, and to check pursuit until reinforcements came up from the rear. the movement was unobserved by the enemy, who were fully occupied in their attempts to capture the abbey; and it was not until the two companies were established on a ridge well above that occupied by the neapolitans, and opened a heavy musketry fire, aided by their two guns, that the latter were aware that they had been taken in rear. their position was altogether untenable, as they were unable to reply effectively to the fire of their opponents, and, descending the slopes, they joined their comrades in the village. several desperate attacks were made upon the abbey, but each was repulsed with heavy loss; and as the carbineers had now moved lower down, and their guns commanded the village, the neapolitans lost heart and fell back. a battalion of garibaldi's bersaglieri now came up. they were commanded by colonel wyndham, and occupied the village as the neapolitans fell back, quickened their retreat, and then, descending to the four-gun battery that had first been taken, turned the guns, which the enemy had forgotten to spike, upon them. in the meantime the fighting had been fierce round santa maria. at first the garibaldians had been hard pressed, and the neapolitans had carried all before them, until they came under the fire of the batteries placed on the railway and in front of the gate facing capua. these were well served, and although the assailants several times advanced with both cavalry and infantry, they never succeeded in getting within a hundred yards of the guns. the left wing, however, swept round the town, and captured all the out-buildings, except a farmhouse, which was gallantly defended by a company of frenchmen. on the right the neapolitans fared still more badly, for when their attack upon the battery failed, the garibaldian force at san tamaro, nearly three thousand five hundred strong, advanced and took them in flank, and drove them back with heavy loss. by eight o'clock the attack had ceased all along the line; but as the enemy, while falling back, preserved good order, no attempt was made to follow them. the battle had lasted four hours, and the garibaldians were now strengthened by the arrival of a brigade with four guns from caserta, where the news had just arrived that bixio was confident of being able to hold his ground at madalone. two of the newly-arrived regiments were ordered to endeavour to reopen communications with sant'angelo, and fighting went on with the force still threatening santa maria; these, after suffering heavy loss, the garibaldians, at ten o'clock, drove some distance back, and captured three guns and many prisoners. at eleven a fresh attack was made, count trani, one of the king's brothers, having brought some fresh battalions from the town. this attack was also repulsed, the garibaldians maintaining their strong positions. but the neapolitan troops were still full of spirit, and at a quarter-past one made another determined effort: their field batteries advanced within three hundred yards of the town, and their cavalry charged almost up to the railway battery, but were received with so heavy an infantry fire by the troops protecting the guns, that they were forced to fall back. the infantry, however, pressed on, covered by a storm of fire from their field artillery, while the guns of capua aided them by firing shell into the town. the garibaldians serving the guns at the gate and at the railway suffered very heavily, but volunteers from the infantry regiments took their place, although at one time their fire was arrested by the explosion of a magazine which killed many of the men, and dismounted two or three of the guns. all this time, fighting was going on fiercely round sant'angelo. the two regiments that had been sent out from santa maria to open communications with the village had been unable to effect their object, the enemy's force being too strong for them to move far from the town. at eleven o'clock, the neapolitans being largely reinforced, made a fresh attack on the battery and barricades in front of sant'angelo, and an obstinate struggle took place here; but superior force triumphed, and the royal troops again captured the battery, killing or taking prisoners almost the whole of the force that defended it. infantry and cavalry then advanced against the village; but the garibaldians, having their leader among them, fought with extraordinary bravery, and for three hours maintained themselves, as did those in the abbey, although the enemy brought up their cannon and rocket batteries to within a short distance of it. the walls of the abbey were, however, so massive that even the artillery failed to make much impression upon them. seeing that the assault upon santa maria had been repulsed, garibaldi sallied out with his entire force, retook the houses that had been captured by the enemy, drove them back to the battery, and at last captured this also. knowing that some of the reserve would soon be up, garibaldi at half-past two rode out from the rear of sant'angelo, and making a wide détour, entered santa maria, and at once ordered a general advance. ebor's brigade sallied out by the capua gate, and advanced against the carthusian convent and cemetery on the capuan road, while a brigade moved out to endeavour once more to clear the way to sant'angelo. the former attack was successful. a small squadron of hungarian hussars charged three squadrons of the enemy's dragoons, defeated them, and captured the two guns that accompanied them. the infantry went on at a run, but it required an hour's hard fighting to gain possession of the convent and cemetery. by this time five thousand men with thirteen guns had arrived from caserta, and the advance became general. medici issued out from sant'angelo, and the whole force from santa maria advanced, the neapolitans falling back from all points; and by five o'clock the whole had re-entered capua, abandoning all their positions outside it, and the garibaldian sentries were posted along the edge of a wood half a mile from the ramparts. until the arrival of the five thousand men of the reserve, the garibaldians had throughout the day, although but nine thousand five hundred strong, maintained themselves successfully against thirty thousand men supported by a powerful artillery. at madalone bixio had routed seven thousand men who had advanced against his position, and had captured four guns. the only reverse sustained was at castel morone, which was garrisoned by only two hundred and twenty-seven men of one of garibaldi's bersaglieri regiments. they held out for some hours against a neapolitan column three thousand strong, and then, having expended all their ammunition, were obliged to surrender. the battle of the volturno cost the garibaldians one thousand two hundred and eighty killed and wounded, and seven hundred taken prisoners, while the enemy lost about two thousand five hundred killed and wounded, five hundred prisoners, and nine guns. at two o'clock a detachment of sardinian artillery, which, with a regiment of bersaglieri, had been landed a few days before at garibaldi's request, had arrived at santa maria, and did good service by taking the places of the gunners who had been almost annihilated by the enemy's fire. the bersaglieri did not arrive at caserta till the battle was over. wearied by the day's fight, the garibaldians, as soon as the long work of searching for and bringing in the wounded was over, lay down to sleep. frank and the two other aides-de-camp of garibaldi were, however, aroused, within an hour of their lying down. the news had arrived that the neapolitan column, which had captured castel morone had suddenly appeared on the heights above caserta: their number was estimated at three thousand. orders were sent to bixio to occupy a strong position. columns were directed to start from sant'angelo and santa maria for caserta, while another brigade was to reinforce the garrison of santa lucia. at two in the morning garibaldi himself started for caserta, and moved out with two thousand five hundred calabrians and four companies of piedmontese bersaglieri. the latter soon found themselves obliged to take off their knapsacks, hats, and useless accoutrements, finding themselves, picked men as they were, unable to keep up with the garibaldians, clad only in shirt and trousers, and carrying nothing but ninety rounds of ammunition. there was but little fighting. the garibaldians lost but seven or eight men, among whom were three piedmontese, who were the first men of the sardinian army to shed their blood for the emancipation of naples. by evening over two thousand five hundred prisoners were taken, and this number was doubled in the course of the next few days by the capture of a large portion of the force which, after being defeated by bixio in their attempt to seize madalone, had scattered over the country pillaging and burning. thus, including the fugitives who escaped, the neapolitan army was weakened by the loss of nearly ten thousand men. the explanation of the singular attack upon caserta, after the defeat of the neapolitan army, was that, after capturing castel morone, their commander had received a despatch stating that a complete defeat had been inflicted on garibaldi, and urging him to cut off the retreat of the fugitives by occupying caserta. now that the work was over, and that there was nothing to be done until the royal army advanced from ancona, and, brushing aside all opposition, arrived to undertake the siege of capua, frank broke down. he had not fully recovered from the effects of the two long days spent in the pestilential atmosphere of the prisons; but had stuck to his work until the neapolitans surrendered; then he rode up to garibaldi, and said,-"general, i must ask you to spare me from my duties, for i feel so strangely giddy that i can scarce keep my seat." "you look ill, lad. hand your horse over to one of the guides. i have sent for my carriage; it will be up in a few minutes. sit down in the shade of that tree. i will take you down to caserta with me, and one of bixio's doctors shall see you at once." on arriving at caserta, the doctor at once pronounced that it was a case of malarial fever, the result of the miasma from the low ground, increased, no doubt, by over-fatigue. garibaldi immediately ordered another carriage to be brought round, instructed two of his men to take their places in it with frank, and despatched a telegram to professor forli at naples, telling him to have four men in readiness to carry him up to his room as soon as he reached the palace, and to have a doctor in waiting. frank was almost unconscious by the time he arrived at the city. everything was ready, and he was soon undressed and in bed, ice applied to his head, and a draught of medicine poured down his throat. in a week the fever left him, but he was so much weakened that it was another fortnight before he could move about again unassisted. "you have lost nothing: things have been very quiet," his grandfather said. "to-day the voting takes place. of course that is a mere farce, and the country will declare for victor emmanuel by a thousand votes to one. medici has been occupied in putting down an insurrection in the mountains, and cialdini has won two battles on his way west; and a large piedmontese force has landed here, and undertaken the work of the garrison." "how long will it be before cialdini arrives with his army before capua?" "i should think that it would be another week." "i must be able to go forward again by that time," frank said. "i must be at capua when it is taken." "i quite understand your feelings, and i am eager to be there myself; but we must have patience. the neapolitans have withdrawn their forces from cajazzo, and the country round, into the town. there are now some nine thousand men there, and if the commander is obstinate he ought to be able to defend the place for some months. still i grant that obstinacy has not been the strong point of the neapolitan generals hitherto; though it must be said that their troops fought gallantly the other day, coming back again and again to the attack. but the commander of the town, however brave he may be, must see that even if he can hold out for the next ten years he would not benefit francesco. the game is already hopelessly lost. the garibaldians, single-handed, have proved themselves capable of defeating the neapolitan troops; and with the army that cialdini has brought from ancona, and that which has marched down from the north, the cause is beyond hope. the army now in gaeta and the garrison of capua alone remain in arms; and i should say that, ere another fortnight has passed, francesco is likely to have left this country for ever." "quite so, grandfather," frank replied; "that is what i have been thinking for the last week, and that is why i am so anxious to go forward again as soon as possible." "that you shall certainly do; at any rate you have a few more days to stay here, then we will get a carriage and go to santa lucia, lying high in the mountains. the change to the splendid air there will benefit you, while a stay at santa maria or caserta would at once throw you back." chapter xviii. capua. garibaldi had been remaining quietly at caserta when, on the 24th, he received a message from cialdini inviting him to cross the river and be in readiness to co-operate in a general action, which might possibly be brought on the next day. a bridge had to be thrown over the volturno, but at five the following morning he crossed with five thousand men. he found that a strong neapolitan force had fallen back, in the direction of gaeta, on the previous evening. missori was sent on with the guides to reconnoitre, and at teano found the escort of the neapolitan general, who had gone on to hold a conference with cialdini. at five in the evening garibaldi advanced eight miles farther in that direction, and bivouacked in the open air for the night. scarcely had he resumed his march, at daybreak the next morning, when he met the advance-guard of the piedmontese. the force marched off the road and encamped while garibaldi and his staff rode on to meet the king and his general. the latter was first encountered, and the heartiest greeting was exchanged between him and garibaldi, for they were old friends. they then rode together to meet victor emmanuel, whose greeting with garibaldi was extremely cordial. they rode together till the afternoon; garibaldi went with his column to calvi, and on the 28th retired to caserta. on the news reaching naples, frank, who by this time had almost recovered, drove to santa lucia. the piedmontese and garibaldians had now taken up their position on the south side of capua, the former occupying their old positions at santa maria and sant'angelo, while the piedmontese occupied the ground between the former town and la forresta; the piedmontese general, delia rocca, being in command of the whole. the troops were at once set to work to construct batteries, and a strong chain of outposts was pushed forward to within five hundred yards of the fortifications, to check the frequent sorties made by the neapolitans. the latter were still resolute, and several fierce fights took place. at four o'clock in the afternoon of november 1st the batteries opened fire, and the guns of the fortress replied vigorously, the bombardment being maintained until dark. preparations were made for an assault on the following morning. in the evening, however, the swiss general, du cornet, sent in to capitulate, and his surrender was accepted on the condition that he and his garrison should be allowed to march out with the honours of war. frank and the professor had driven early that morning from santa lucia, and had taken up their post high up on mount tifata, whence they could obtain a view of the city and surrounding country. they drove back when the bombardment ceased. early the next morning they set out again, and, meeting an officer, were informed that capua had surrendered. signor forli had two days previously gone down to caserta and seen garibaldi, and had asked him to give frank a letter of introduction to general cialdini, requesting him to allow him to enter with the first party to search the prisons of capua. "that i will do right willingly," garibaldi said. "indeed, as i rode with him two days ago, we naturally talked over the past; and i mentioned to him that i in no small degree owed the success of my expedition to the large sum of money sent to me by madame percival, the wife of the gentleman whose murder by brigands had created so much stir two and a half years ago. he remembered the circumstances perfectly; and i told him that her son had accompanied me throughout, and had greatly distinguished himself, even among the gallant men who accompanied me. i mentioned to him that he had still hopes that his father had not been murdered, and might be found in a neapolitan prison, and gave him his reason for hoping that he might yet be found in capua. i need not, therefore, write a long letter." the general at once sat down and wrote a note to cialdini, introducing frank to him, and asking that he might be nominated to accompany the officer charged with the duty of examining the prisons of capua. as soon, therefore, as they learned that the garrison had capitulated, signor forli and frank drove to la fortuna, where cialdini's headquarters were. frank sent in his card and garibaldi's letter, and after waiting a few minutes was shown into his room. "i am glad to see you, captain percival," the governor said warmly. "garibaldi was speaking to me of you in the highest terms, and interested me much in the quest you are making for your father. a party of our troops will enter the town to take possession of the magazines, and see that order is maintained until the evacuation of the town by the garrison, which will indeed commence this afternoon. i shall myself be entering in a couple of hours' time; and the best way will be for you to ride in with me. i will provide you with a horse; and it will save time and relieve you of your anxiety if i send an officer with you to the prisons, ordering that you shall at once have every facility given you for ascertaining whether your father is among those confined there." "i thank you greatly, general," frank said. "i will not trouble you about the horse, but will, with your permission, drive in in the carriage i have outside. my mother's father, whom i found in prison at reggio, is with me; and should i be happy enough to find my father, we can then take him away at once." "very well, we will arrange it so. colonel pasta, please write out an order to the governor of the state prisons in capua to offer every facility to captain percival to visit the jails and inspect the prisoners, with power to liberate his father at once should he find him there. it will save trouble altogether if, when we enter the town, you at once ride with his carriage to the prisons, and see that this order is complied with. you will also, before you set out, give orders to the officer commanding the escort to allow the carriage to follow him. "i heartily wish you success in your search," he said, turning to frank, and again shook him warmly by the hand. signor forli was much pleased when frank told him the result of his interview. "however, my dear frank," he said, "i pray you not to allow yourself to be buoyed up with any strong hope: if you do you may only be bitterly disappointed. you must remember, too, that even should we not find him here, we may discover him at gaeta." "i will try not to let myself hope too much," frank replied; "but at the same time i own that the description you obtained of one of the prisoners sent on here from naples has given me a strong hope that it is my father. should it not be so, i will not despair altogether, but will look forward to the search at gaeta. if that does not succeed i fear that it will be no good to hope any longer, for all the prisons south of naples have been opened long before now, and had my father been confined in one of them, i feel sure that, if able, he would at once have made his way to naples to see garibaldi, and obtain from him funds to enable him to return home." leaving the carriage, they endeavoured to obtain some food, for they had only taken some coffee and milk and a piece of bread before starting. they found it, however, almost impossible to do so--everything in the place had been eaten up; but after some search they succeeded in getting a bottle of wine and a small piece of bread at one of the cafés. having taken this, they went back to the carriage, and sat there until they saw the general and his staff come out from headquarters and mount. just as they were starting, an officer rode up to the carriage. "i have orders, sir, to permit you to follow in rear of the escort, and to enter the city with them. will you please drive on at once?" an hour later they entered capua. shortly before an italian brigade had marched in, placed guards at the gates and all the public buildings, and relieved the neapolitan sentries on the ramparts. cialdini dismounted at the palace of the governor, and ten minutes later colonel pasto rode up to the carriage. he was accompanied by a gentleman on foot, who introduced himself to signor forli as a member of the municipal body, and, taking a seat, directed the driver to the state prison, colonel pasto riding by the side of the carriage. when they arrived at the gate, where two of the bersaglieri were on guard, they alighted, and colonel pasto knocked at the gate, which was at once opened. "i wish to see the governor of the jail," he said. the warder at once led the way to the governor's residence, followed by the colonel, frank, and signor forli. the governor bowed, with evident trouble in his face, as they entered. "this officer," the colonel said, "is the bearer of an order from general cialdini, to search the prison thoroughly for the person of captain percival, a british subject, believed to be confined here, and to free him at once if he is so. i also require a full list of all prisoners confined here, with a statement of the charges on which they have been imprisoned. to-morrow the place will be searched from top to bottom, and all prisoners--i believe that no criminals are confined here--will be released." "i have no such person as captain percival here," the official said humbly. "not under that name, perhaps," frank said. "i demand, sir, in the first place, to see the four prisoners who were brought here from naples on the 5th or 6th of september. if captain percival is not one of the four, though i am convinced that he is so, i will postpone a general search until i make it with the royal officials to-morrow." the governor looked somewhat surprised at the knowledge possessed by the young officer; however, he only said, "i will take you to them at once, sir; they are together, and, as you will see, comfortably lodged." "i can believe that they are so at present," frank said sternly, "and have been, perhaps, for the past twenty-four hours"; for he felt sure that as soon as it was known that the general was about to capitulate, all the prisoners from the lower dungeons would be hastily removed to better quarters. "i will accompany you so far, captain percival," colonel pasto said, "in order that i may inform general cialdini if you have met with success in your search." led by the governor, they left the apartment, entered the prison itself, and followed him down several corridors. one of the warders, by his orders, followed him with a bunch of keys. frank was very pale, his face was set, and he was evidently trying to nerve himself to bear disappointment. signor forli walked with his hand on his shoulder, as if to assure him of his sympathy, and to aid him to support joy or disappointment. colonel pasto, deeply interested in the drama, walked a pace or two behind them. at last the turnkey stopped before a door, inserted a key in the lock, and opened it. the governor entered, with the words, "these are the four prisoners, sir." frank paused for a moment, took a long breath, and then entered. three men were lying on pallet-beds; the fourth, who had been seated, rose as they entered. it was on him that frank's eyes first fell, and then paused in doubt: the man's hair was long and streaked with grey, he wore long whiskers, beard and moustache, his face was very white and his figure somewhat bent. he was very thin, and his eyes seemed unnaturally large in the drawn, haggard face. as his eyes fell upon the uniforms of the piedmontese and garibaldian officers, he held out his arms and cried hoarsely: "i was right, then; we heard the firing yesterday, and knew that the town was attacked, and when we were taken from our foul dungeons and brought up here, i felt sure that deliverance was at hand. ah, forli," he broke off, as his eyes fell on the professor, "this is all that was wanted to complete my joy. you too are rescued!" and bursting into tears he sank back upon his pallet and covered his face with his thin hands. [illustration: "he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder"] the professor laid his hand on frank's shoulder, as the latter was about to dart forward. "stay a minute or two, lad," he whispered--"it may be too much for him," and he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder. "it is a joyful occasion indeed, leonard," he said. "you are free. save for the papal states and venice, all italy is free. i have other good news for you. muriel, your boy and my wife are all well, and will soon be able to rejoin you." "a minute, forli--give me a minute," captain percival said, in a low voice. "i should not have broken down thus. it is almost too much, coming all at once, after so long a time of waiting." two of the other prisoners had half risen at signor forli's words; the other was too weak to do more than turn his face towards them. "the news is true, gentlemen," colonel pasto said. "to-morrow, you and all within this prison will be free men. capua has surrendered, and we have but just entered the town. as there are still nine thousand of the neapolitan troops here, there are many arrangements to be made, and we must find some place for you all until you can be sent to your homes. it is impossible to search the jails until to-morrow, but you need not regard yourselves any longer as prisoners. i have orders from general cialdini to the governor here, that you shall in the meantime be well and plentifully fed, so as to prepare you for leaving this place. "you hear, sir," he said, turning to the governor. "you will procure, regardless of expense, every luxury possible, with a proper supply of good wine; and see that all have a thoroughly good meal this afternoon, and another this evening. i request that you will, without delay, have every prisoner informed of what has happened, and that he will to-morrow be released." "i will see that it is done, colonel," the governor said. "i will at once give the necessary orders. "perhaps it will be better, sir," he went on, speaking to signor forli, "that your friend should take something before he leaves. i have pleasure in placing my private room at your disposal, and will order some refreshment to be served there immediately." captain percival now rose to his feet with an effort. "i am afraid i shall have to be carried, forli," he said, with an attempt at a smile. "i was able to walk across the room this morning, but your news has, for the present, demolished what little strength i had left." "you had better sit down, captain percival," the colonel said. "the governor will doubtless send some men with a stretcher at once, and i need hardly assure you how great a pleasure it has been to me to be employed on so successful a mission. i shall tell general cialdini that you have been found." and so saying, after shaking hands with captain percival and the other prisoners, he left the room with the governor. frank also went outside, as, seeing how weak his father was, he quite recognised the wisdom of signor forli's advice that he should not be told too much at once; and, indeed, he felt that he could no longer suppress his own emotions. leaning against the wall in the passage, he cried like a child. assisted by signor forli, percival went round and shook hands with the other three prisoners. "i was right, you see," he said: "i told you last night, when we were all brought up here, that our deliverance was at hand, but i hardly thought that it could be so near. soon you too will see your friends, from whom you have been kept a much longer time than i have. "we have only met once before," he said to the professor, "when nearly two months ago we were all brought out and placed in a vehicle together, and driven here. on the way we told each other what our real names were, and the addresses of our friends, so that if by some miracle one of us should issue alive from our horrible dungeons, we might let the friends of the others know how and where they had died. thank god, we shall now all be bearers of good news." "i fear that i shall never be so," the weakest of them said, feebly. "do not think that," signor forli said cheerfully: "good food, fresh air, and, more than all, freedom, will do wonders for you. i, like yourselves, have been a special prisoner in a fortress for upwards of three years, and you see me now as strong and as well as i was when i entered it. make up your mind that you will get well and cheat these tyrants, who had thought to kill you by inches." four of the jailors now entered; one of them carried a stretcher, another had a bottle of excellent wine and four large glasses, which he filled and handed to the prisoners. "this is the first taste of freedom," one said, as he emptied his glass. "there, friend," he went on, as one of the jailors partly lifted the sick man and placed the glass to his lips, "that is your first step towards health and strength. i can feel it already tingling in my veins, which years ago a glass of pure spirit would hardly have done. no, we will take no more now," he said, as one of the men was about to refill his glass. "leave it here; another glass now would intoxicate me, after five years on water alone and starvation diet." captain percival was now placed on the stretcher and carried out; frank fell in with signor forli as he followed the party. "unless you are going to tell him soon," he said, "i must go; i cannot stand it, being so close to him." "i will tell him as soon as we are alone," the professor said: "he has calmed down, and that glass of wine will do him a world of good." on arriving at the governor's room, captain percival was placed in an easy chair, and the jailors left. frank went to the window and looked out. "i can hardly believe that it is not all a dream, forli. the strangest part is that, while i had hoped to open your prison doors, you have opened mine." "you are wrong, leonard: the same person who opened my doors has opened yours; as you set out to find me, so another set out to find us both." captain percival looked at him wonderingly. "of whom are you speaking, forli? my head is not very clear at present. but who could have been looking for us both? you don't mean garibaldi?" "no, no, leonard; truly he has opened the doors to all prisoners, but he was not searching for any one in particular. when i tell you that muriel sent out to garibaldi the sum that you had put aside for that purpose, and that she and my wife had never altogether lost hope that you and i were both still alive, whom should she send out with it, and to search for you, but----" "you don't mean frank? you cannot mean him: he is only a boy at school." "he is nearly seventeen now, and there are hundreds of younger lads who, like him, have done their duty as men. yes, it is frank. i would not tell you at first; one shock was enough at a time. frank, my boy, you have your reward at last." frank turned and ran towards his father. the latter rose from his seat. "my boy, my dear lad!" he cried, as he held out his arms, "this is too much happiness!" it was some minutes before either father or son could speak coherently; and fortunately, just as frank placed his father in the chair, one of the attendants brought in a basin of clear soup, two cutlets, an omelette, and a bottle of wine, saying that the governor had sent them from his own table, with his compliments. captain percival smiled faintly when the man left the room. "it is my last meal in prison, and if it had been sent to me a week ago i should have declined to eat it, for i should have made sure that it was poisoned; however, as it is, i will take it with thankfulness." "yes, and you must eat as much as you can," forli said. "you have got a drive before you: we shall take you straight up to santa lucia, where we have rooms; the mountain air has done wonders for frank, who has had a touch of these marsh fevers. it would be difficult to find a place in capua now, so the sooner you are out of it the better." captain percival took a mouthful or two of soup and then stopped. "that won't do, leonard--that won't do; you really must make an effort. do it in italian fashion: pour a glass of wine into it; if you will take that, i will let you off the meat." "i could not touch it whether you let me off or not. i have not touched meat for two years and a half, and i shall be some time taking to it again." he finished the soup, and then, upon the insistence of signor forli, took some of the omelette. "now," the latter said, "we will be off. when we came in here, we told the driver to find some place where he could take the horses out and feed them, and then come here and wait for us. i suppose we must get somebody to let us out of the prison." frank rang the bell. when the attendant came in, he said, "please tell the governor that we are now leaving, and that we shall be obliged if he would send down an official to the gate to let us out." the governor himself came in two minutes later; the gate was close by the entrance to his house; and signor forli said,--"i will go out first, sir, and fetch our carriage round, if you will be good enough to give orders that the gate is to be kept open until i return, and to order the warder there to allow captain percival to pass out with us." ten minutes later they were on their way. captain percival would not be laid on a stretcher again, but leaning upon his father-in-law and son, was able to walk to the carriage. "i have a flask of brandy-and-water in my pocket, leonard, and if you feel faint you must take a little." very few words were spoken on the journey. frank sat by the side of his father and held his hand in his own, and it was not long before captain percival fell asleep. the excitement of the past thirty-six hours had for a time given him a fictitious strength; and now the sense of happiness and of freedom, aided, no doubt, by the unaccustomed meal and the wine he had taken, took the natural effect, and after trying in vain to question frank as to what had taken place, he dozed off. "that is the best thing for him," signor forli said in low tones, when he saw that captain percival was asleep, "i hope he will not wake up till we arrive at santa lucia. he has borne it better than i expected. it has, of course, pulled him down a great deal more than it did me. a strong and active man must naturally feel solitary confinement much more than one who seldom takes any exercise beyond half an hour's walk in the streets of london; who is, moreover, something of a philosopher, and who can conjure up at will from his brain many of his intimate friends. i have no doubt he will sleep soundly to-night, and i trust--though of this i do not feel quite sure--that he will be a different man in the morning. of course it may be the other way, and that when the effect of the excitement has passed off he will need a great deal of careful nursing before he begins to gain strength. at any rate, i shall go into naples to-morrow and send a telegram to your mother, and tell her to come over with my wife at once. it would be of no use going down to caserta; the wires will be so fully occupied by the military and royal telegrams that there will be little chance of a private message getting through. they are sure to start directly they get my message, and may be here in three or four days. i shall advise them to come viâ marseilles; for, as the train service is sure to be upset, they might be a good deal longer coming by land, besides the annoyance of long detentions and crowded trains; for you may be sure that there will be a rush from the north to come down to witness the king's entrance into naples." "i think that will be a very good plan indeed," frank agreed; "and the knowledge that they are coming will, i should think, do a great deal of good to my father." darkness had fallen long before they reached santa lucia. the village was still full of soldiers. as he leapt out from the carriage frank called to four of them standing near to help in carrying his father upstairs; and so soundly was captain percival sleeping, that this was managed and he was laid on the bed without his fairly waking, though he half opened his eyes and murmured something that frank could not catch. "we will not try to take his things off," signor forli said, "but just throw a blanket lightly over him now. i will remain here while you go down and get some supper. you had better stay in the room with him all night; there is no getting hold of another bed, but----" "i shall do just as well without a bed," frank said; "since i landed at marsala i have hardly slept in one; besides, i don't fancy that i shall sleep much, anyhow. i have plenty to think about and to thank god for, and if my father moves i shall be at his bedside in a moment. it is likely enough that he will not have the least idea where he is." "quite so, frank. when you come up from supper bring an extra candle with you: you had better keep a light burning all night." captain percival, however, did not wake up until it was broad daylight. he looked round in a bewildered way until his eyes rested upon frank, who was seated close to his bedside. "that settles it," he said with a smile, holding out his hand to him. "i could not make out where i was. i remember leaving capua in a carriage, and nothing more; i must have slept like a log, as you got me out of the carriage and up here without my waking." "i think it was the professor's fault chiefly, father, in making you take that second glass of wine in your soup. you see you were altogether unaccustomed to it, and being so weak, that and all the excitement naturally overpowered you. however, i think it a capital thing that it did. you had twelve hours' good sleep, and you look all the better for it. i will tell signor forli you are awake. he has peeped in three or four times to see how you are going on." he went out for a minute, and a little later the professor came in with a large cup of hot milk. "you are looking fifty per cent. better, leonard," he said. "you had better begin by drinking this, and then i should recommend you to get rid of those rags you have on, and to have a good wash. i am going into naples, and will bring you some clothes. you certainly could not get into my coat, but i will lend you a shirt, and that is all that you will want, for you had better lie in bed to-day and listen to frank's account of his adventures, having a nap occasionally when you feel tired, and taking as much soup as you can get down, with perhaps a slice of chicken." "what are you going to naples for?" "i am going to send the good news to muriel, and to tell her and my wife to come over at once and help you to build up your strength again. i won't say come over to nurse you, for i think you can do without that,--all you want is building up." before he started the professor showed them the telegram he had written out. "it is rather long," he said, "but a pound or two one way or the other makes little difference." it ran: "prepare yourself for good news, and don't read farther till you have done so. thank god, frank's search has been successful. i dared not tell you when i last wrote that i had found a clue, lest it should only give rise to false hopes. however, it led us to our goal. leonard is recovered and free. he is weak, but needs nothing but good food and your presence. start with annetta at once; come straight to marseilles and take the first steamer to naples. you will find us at the hotel d'italie, where i shall have rooms ready for you." after signor forli left, frank told the story of his adventures bit by bit, insisting upon his father taking rest and food three or four times. the professor returned late in the evening. "i have got rooms at the hotel," he said; "and it is lucky that i did not put off going down till to-morrow, for telegrams are coming in from all parts of italy to secure accommodation. however, fortunately there were still some good rooms left when i arrived there, and i need not say that i did not haggle over terms, outrageous as they were on the strength of the coming crowd. your father is going on all right, i hope?" "very well indeed, i think. i only talked for about half an hour at a time; he has slept a good deal, and he has eaten well, his voice is stronger, and there is a little colour in his cheeks; he was terribly white before." "that was from being kept in the dark, frank, as much as from illness." they went upstairs together. "i hear a good account of you, leonard," the professor said, "so i will give you what i have in my pocket, which i should otherwise have kept till to-morrow morning." he took out a piece of thin paper, handed it to captain percival, and held the candle close, so that he should read the contents. it was but a few words, but it took some time in the reading, for the invalid's eyes were blinded with tears. when he had read it, he dropped it on the coverlet and put his hands over his face, while the bed shook with his deep sobs. frank took up the paper and ran his eye over it. "the good god be praised for all his mercies! oh, my husband, i can say no more now. mother and i start to-night for marseilles.--your most happy and loving wife." two days later the party left for naples. that morning garibaldi, to whom frank had sent a message on the morning after his return from capua, drove up to santa lucia to see his old friend. "i am almost as pleased, percival," he said, after a silent hand-grip had been exchanged, "to have freed you as i am to have freed italy, a matter in which the money your wife sent me in your name had no slight share. you have reason to be proud of your son: he has shown throughout the expedition a courage and coolness equal to that of any of my veterans. he captured the first neapolitan standard that was taken, and has rendered me innumerable services as my aide-de-camp. you are looking better than i expected." "i should be an ungrateful brute, if i were not getting better, after all my son has gone through to rescue me, and the feeding up that i have had since i came here." "you must have suffered intensely, percival?" "it has been pretty hard. i have all the time been in solitary confinement in filthy holes, where scarce a ray of daylight penetrated. i have had nothing but either the blackest of bread or roasted maize to eat, but i have been kept up throughout by the conviction that ere very long there must be an upheaval: things could not go on as they were. i knew that my own letters had excited a general feeling of horror at the accounts of the dungeons in which political prisoners were confined, and i determined to make the best of matters. a year ago--at least, i suppose that it is about a year, for i have lost count of time--a fresh hope was given me, when one of my jailors, who was at heart a good fellow, and occasionally ventured to say a few words to me, told me that the sardinians, with the help of france, had recovered lombardy from austria, and that tuscany and other papal states had all revolted and joined sardinia. that gave me fresh hope and courage. i felt that things could not long remain so, and that the south would soon follow the example of the north. i felt sure that you had borne your part in the struggle with the austrians, and that, just as you headed the roman insurrection, you would certainly throw yourself heart and soul into a rising in the south. i hear now, from my son, that in fact the whole has been entirely your work." "i have done what i could," garibaldi said, "and well have i been rewarded by the gratitude of the people. but i see already that the jealousy of the piedmontese is carrying them beyond all bounds, and that i shall soon be back in caprera. but that matters not: i shall be happy in the thought that i have earned the gratitude of all italy, and that the work i have done can never be undone. the king is a brave and gallant gentleman, but he is prejudiced by the lies of the men round him, who cannot forgive me for having done what should have been their work. it is a pity, but it matters but little. i fought for the cause and not for myself, and my only regret is that my brave companions should suffer by the jealousy and ill-humour of a handful of miserables. i shall be in naples in a few days, and hope to find a still further improvement in your condition." the long drive to naples had no ill effect whatever, and captain percival was able to walk from the carriage up to his room, leaning upon frank's arm. they learned that it would be two days before the next steamer from marseilles arrived, and these were passed by captain percival in the carriage, driving slowly backwards and forwards along the promenade by the sea, sometimes halting for an hour or two, while he got out and walked for a time, and then sat down on a seat, enjoying intensely the balmy air and the lovely view. he was now able to dispense altogether with frank's assistance. his hair had been cut short, and his face clean-shaved with the exception of his moustache, for, as he said, "he hardly knew his own face with all that hair on, and he wanted his wife to see him again as he was when he left her." his cheeks were still very thin and hollow, but the sun and sea air had removed the deadly pallor, and the five days of good feeding had already softened the sharpness of the outlines of his face. on the day when the steamer was due he remained down at the sea until she was sighted. then he returned to the hotel with signor forli, leaving frank to meet the ladies when they landed and to bring them up to the hotel. garibaldi had run down to naples on the previous day, and spent some hours in endeavouring to smooth matters between the contending factions, and had given frank an order to the officers of the custom-house to pass the baggage of signora forli and mrs. percival unopened. the greeting between frank and his mother and the signora was a rapturous one. not many words were spoken, for both ladies were so greatly affected that they hurried at once into the carriage. frank saw the small amount of baggage that they had brought handed up, and then jumped in. "how is he looking?" mrs. percival asked anxiously. "of course he is looking thin, mother. he was very weak when we found him, five days ago; but he has picked up a good deal since then, and in another fortnight he will be walking about with you just as of old." "you are looking thin yourself, frank--very thin. my father mentioned in his letter that you had had a touch of fever." "yes, it was rather a sharp touch; but, as you see, i am all right now, though i have not yet returned to duty. i was able to take a part in the battle of volturno, but collapsed after it was over." "and your grandfather has not changed much, you said?" the signora asked. "he has borne it marvellously," frank said. "as i told you in my letter, he has kept himself up by going through all the authors he knew by heart. you know what a marvellous memory he has, and of course that helped him immensely. of all the prisoners we have released, there was not one who was so well and strong as he was. i really don't think that you will find any change in him since you saw him last--except that, of course, his hair is rather greyer. father is a good deal greyer, mother. i think that, perhaps, it is the result of there being so little light in the places where he has been kept. here is the hotel. now i will take you up to them, and will leave you there while i come down and see after your traps. i should doubt whether any english ladies ever arrived at naples before with so little luggage." he spoke cheerfully, for both his mother and the signora were so much agitated that he was afraid of their breaking down before they got upstairs. on reaching the door he opened it, and, closing it quickly behind him, went away. it was a quarter of an hour before he returned to the room. all had now recovered from the effects of their first meeting. "we have already settled, frank, that we will start for home at once. your grandfather says that he has ascertained that a steamer will leave to-morrow for england; and we mean to go all the way by sea. it will do your father good, and you too, for your grandfather says the doctor told him that, although you have got rid of the fever altogether, you need change to set you up thoroughly, and that a sea voyage would be the best thing for you. and, as we are all good sailors, it will be the pleasantest way as well as the best. fortunately your work is done here. the fighting is over, and even if it were not, you have done your share. you have not told us much about that in your letters, but garibaldi spoke of you in the highest terms to your father; and your grandfather learned, from some of your comrades, what you really did at calatafimi and palermo." "i did just what the others did, mother, and was luckier than most of them, though i was laid up there for a month with the wound i got; but i don't see how i could start to-morrow without leave, and, at any rate, without thanking garibaldi for his kindness." "well, then, you must run over to caserta and see him this evening. the railway is open, is it not? it is only a run of half an hour or so." "very well, mother, i will do that; and very likely he will be over in the morning. he comes here nearly every day, and if he had not intended doing so to-morrow, i am sure he would come, if only to see you and the signora, and to say good-bye to father and the professor. about what time does the steamer start?" "at one o'clock." "oh, that will leave plenty of time; the general is always up at three in the morning." frank was not mistaken: at eight o'clock garibaldi arrived at the hotel and spent half an hour with them. he delighted mrs. percival by the manner in which he spoke of frank, saying that no one had distinguished himself more during the campaign. the voyage to england was pleasant and uneventful, and by the time they arrived at home, captain percival was almost himself again, while frank had entirely shaken off the effects of his illness. it had been agreed that he should not return to harrow; six months of campaigning had ill-fitted him for the restrictions of school life, and it was arranged that he should be prepared for cambridge by a private tutor. he finally passed creditably, though not brilliantly, through the university. he and his family had the pleasure of meeting garibaldi when the latter paid a visit to london, four years after the close of the campaign; and the general, in spite of his many engagements, spent one quiet evening with his friends at cadogan place. four years later frank married, and his father settled upon him his country estate, to which, since his return to england, he had seldom gone down, for, although his general health was good, he never sufficiently recovered from the effects of his imprisonment to be strong enough again to take part in field sports. he lived, however, to a good old age, and it is not very long since he and his wife died within a few days of each other. the professor and signora forli had left them fifteen years before. the end. typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: the enemey=> the enemey {pg 140} who assuredy=> who assuredy {pg 192} guerillas=> guerrillas {pg 203} the the entrance=> the entrance {pg 244} fictitous=> fictitous {pg 342} 