The Lure of the Mask by Harold MacGrath (ereader for comics .TXT) 📕

him jovially on the shoulder.

"Home? Ah, yes! But shall I have a home to go to when I get back? You have roped me in nicely. My poor little twenty-five hundred! But Swiss champagne at a dollar-forty the quart! Well, every cloud has its lining. Say, Jack, how much brighter the world looks after a magnum! And a funny story's twice as funny. Good night. As for the Lady in the Fog, take the cash and let the credit go. That's my motto."

As Hillard never received any answer to his personal, he discontinued it. Truly, she had returned to the fog out of which she had come. But it was no less difficult for him to take up the daily affairs again; everything was so terribly prosaic now; the zest was gone from work and play. Italy was the last resort; and the business of giving Merrihew a personally conducted tour would occupy his mind. Always he was asking: Who was she? What mystery veiled her? Whither had she gone? We never can conjure up a complete likeness. Sometimes it is the eyes, again the mouth and chin, or the turn of the throat; there is never any ensemble of features and adornments. And as for Hillard, he really had nothing definite to recall, unless it was the striking color of her hair or the mellow smoothness of her voice. And could he really remember these? He often wished that she had sung under any window but his.

Giovanni was delighted when he heard the news. He would go, too, and act as valet to the signore and his friend till they put out for Rome. Then, of course, he would be obliged to leave them. Occasionally Hillard would reason with him regarding his deadly projects. But when a Latin declares that he has seen through blood, persuasions, arguments, entreaties, threats do not prevail. He comforted himself with the opinion, however, that Giovanni's hunt would come to no successful end.

"You will surely fall into the hands of the police."

"What God wills comes true. But by this time they will have forgotten me."

"But you have not forgotten."

"Padre mio, that is different. One obeys the civil law from habit. Between me and the carabinieri there is nothing personal. Thus it is easy for them to forget. Still, I shall not announce my approach, that I am Giovanni l'Aguello, returned for arrest. I shall take good care to keep out of their way."

"The eagle; that is a good name for you."

"And once I was as tame as a dove."

"But your man might be dead."

"He is not dead. If he were, something would tell me."

"It is a bad business, and I wish you no luck."

Giovanni smiled easily. Wishes seldom interfere with any one.

"I will double your wages," said Hillard, "if you will go where I go and return with me when I come back to America."

A deprecating movement. "Money? It is nothing. I am rich, after my kind."

"Are you still in the Church?"

"I confess regularly once a week. Oh, I am a good Catholic."

"Take yourself off. I am displeased with you."

The few days before sailing found Merrihew in a flutter of intense excitement. He carried his letter of credit about in order to convince himself during the day that he was really and truly going to Italy. He forswore the bottle and the illumined royalty of the card-deck, and spent his evenings "studying up" the lay of the land. To be sure, there was one grand dinner the night before they sailed. Suppose, Merrihew advanced, for the sake of argument, suppose the ship went down or he never came back, or he was ill all the way over? There would be one good dinner to remember, anyhow.

It was a drizzling, foggy morning when they drove down to the boat. There are seldom bright sailing days in the forepart of March. But the atmospheric effects made no impression on the volatile Merrihew. It was all very interesting to him. And he had an eye for all things, from the baskets of fruit and flowers, messengers with late orders from the stores, repeated farewells, to the squalling babies in the steerage. Even in the impudent shrieking tugboats he found a measure of delight; and the blur on the water was inviting.

At four o'clock they were on the high seas, heading for the Azores. Hillard was dreaming and Merrihew was studiously employed over a booklet on How to Speak Italian in One Day. There was a moderate sea on.

By and by Giovanni, who had spent most of the time arranging the luggage in the adjoining staterooms, came up on deck. He had two packets of letters and telegrams. One he gave to Merrihew and the other to his master.

"I forgot to give the signore his mail at breakfast. The boat-mail has just been distributed." He then went forward.

Merrihew was greatly pleased with his packet. There were humorous letters and cheery telegrams, containing all sorts of advice in case of seasickness, how to slip cigars through the customs, where to get the best post-cards, and also the worst.

Hillard found among his a bulky envelope post-marked Naples. After he opened it he lay back in his chair and contemplated the ruffled horizon. Naples! He sat up. It had been addressed to the house and the address typewritten.

"Dan?"

"What is it?"

"Look at this!"

"Good Lord!" Dan gasped, his feet coming down to the deck.

For Hillard was holding up for his inspection a crumpled black silk mask.


CHAPTER VIII

WHAT MERRIHEW FOUND


The great ship had passed the Isle of Ischia, and now the Bay of Naples unfolded all its variant beauties. Hillard had seen them many times before, yet they are a joy eternal, a changing joy of which neither the eye nor the mind ever grows weary. Both he and Merrihew were foremost in the press against the forward rail. To the latter's impressionable mind it was like a dream. In fancy he could see the Roman galleys, the fighting triremes, the canopied pleasure-craft, just as they were two thousand years ago. Yonder, the temples and baths of Nero of the Golden House; thither, the palaces of the grim Tiberius; beyond, Pompeii, with Glaucus, lone, and Nydia, the blind girl. The dream-picture faded and the reality was no less fascinating: the white sails of the fishermen winging across the sapphire waters, leaving ribboned pathways behind that crossed and recrossed like a chart of the stars; proud white pleasure-yachts, great vessels from all ports in the world; and an occasional battle-ship, drab and stealthy. And the hundred pink and white villages, the jade and amethyst of the near and far islands, the smiling terraces above the city, the ruined temples, the grim giant ash-heap of Vesuvius!

"That is it," said Merrihew, whose flights of rhetoric were most simplified.

"Vedi Napoli e poi mori!" replied Hillard.

"Hold on," exclaimed Merrihew. "Pass it out slowly. What's that mean?"

"See Naples and die."

"I prefer to see it and live. But I am kind of disappointed in Vesuvius. It's not the terrible old Moloch of my geographies that gobbled up cities and peoples. And nobody seems to be afraid of it," with a gesture toward the villages nestling with the utmost confidence at the circling base. "Not a bit of smoke anywhere."

"No, my boy, don't speak slightingly of old Vesuvius. It is one of the great mysteries of the world. To-morrow that mountain may swallow up the whole bay, or it may never wake up again. Respect it; I do. When I recall Herculaneum and Pompeii-"

"Two thousand years ago; that's different. I'm never satisfied, I know, but I should like to see it blow its head off while I'm here."

"Not I! As I grow older I like comfort and security more and more. See that village on the cliffs toward the south? That's Sorrento, where I was born. The eruption of '72 happened while I was there, but I was too young to take any particular notice. Sh! Look at Giovanni."

Merrihew looked at the old Roman. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his gaze strove to pierce the distance to the far-off Sabine Hills. Italy! Yonder his heart and soul had taken root; his native land, his native land, and condemned to live in exile from it! Hillard leaned over and touched him on the arm, and he started.

"Take care, Giovanni."

"Pardon! I am weak this day, but to-morrow I shall be strong. Seven years! Have you not longed for it yourself? Has not your heart gone out many times across the seas to those cliffs?" pointing to Sorrento.

"Many times, Giovanni. But remember and control yourself. Presently the carabinieri will come on board. You will see that all our luggage goes promptly to the Bristol, once we are through the customs."

"Trust me, signore."

They landed at the custom-house at two in the afternoon, and passed without any difficulty. Naples is the easiest port in the world, if you are not a native and you chance to be an uncommercial traveler who is willing to purchase salt and tobacco of the State. The Italian tobacco is generally bad, and formerly one had to smoke it or go without; but now the best of imported cigars may be found in all the large cities, cheaper in some respects than those in America, and not a whit inferior, since there is no middleman's profit, buying, as one does, direct from the State. The hotels, however, sell the same brands at an outrageous advance; the proprietor must have his commission, the concierge, the head-waiter, the waiters, the porters, and the chef, for this slight favor to the guest. Commission! It means something in sunny Italy. All this Hillard explained to Merrihew as they were awaiting the examination. Merrihew, holding grimly on to his hand-luggage, stood waiting for Hillard at the iron gates fronting the railroad. Suddenly a brilliantly uniformed man rushed up to him, bowed, and insisted on taking the luggage. Merrihew protested feebly.

"But you are Meestaire Merrihoo, the friend of Meestaire Hillar?"

"Yes."

"It is all right, then." The brilliant uniform prevailed, and Merrihew surrendered the luggage, marveling. Hillard seemed to know every one over here.

"Beautiful weather," said the uniform, as they passed through the gates.

"Fine," said Merrihew. From the corner of his eye he inspected the man at his side. Certainly he could be no less than a captain in the navy, with those epaulets and sleeve-bands.

"This is your first trip to Italy?"

"Yes. You people are very courteous here."

"Oh, we make that a part of our business."

A hundred cabmen yelled and shouted; but at a sign from Merrihew's new acquaintance they subsided or turned their attention elsewhere. This sign of respect made a still deeper impression on Merrihew.

"I'll bet a dollar he's an admiral!" he thought.

At length they came to an omnibus. The admiral beckoned to Merrihew to step in. The luggage was thrown on top.

"I am very grateful to you," said Merrihew, offering his hand.

The admiral shook it somewhat doubtfully, tipped his cap, and went hurriedly back to the dogana, or custom-house.

Shortly after Hillard appeared.

"We shan't go up in the omnibus," he said. "We'll take a carriage."

Merrihew looked around in vain for his distinguished acquaintance.

"What did you give the porter?" Hillard asked as they drove off.

"Porter?