The Gadfly by Ethel Voynich (top fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

him a loaded pistol myself before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missed his footing⁠—being lame⁠—in trying to mount. But even then, he could have fired.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Marcone interposed. “He didn’t attempt to mount. I was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I looked round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear if it hadn’t been for the Cardinal.”

“Ah!” Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: “The Cardinal?”

“Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol⁠—confound him! I suppose Rivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and put the other one up like this”⁠—laying the back of his left wrist across his eyes⁠—“and of course they all rushed on him.”

“I can’t make that out,” said Michele. “It’s not like Rivarez to lose his head at a crisis.”

“Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,” Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders.

“Unarmed men shouldn’t poke their noses into the middle of a fight. War is war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of letting himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there’d be one honest man the more and one priest the less.”

He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to breaking down in tears.

“Anyway,” said Martini, “the thing’s done, and there’s no use wasting time in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we’re to arrange an escape for him. I suppose you’re all willing to risk it?”

Michele did not even condescend to answer the superfluous question, and the smuggler only remarked with a little laugh: “I’d shoot my own brother, if he weren’t willing.”

“Very well, then⁠—First thing; have you got a plan of the fortress?”

Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.

“I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of the fortress; here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and here the plan of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley, and here are the paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and the underground passages.”

“Do you know which of the towers he is in?”

“The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked it on the plan.”

“How did you get your information?”

“From a man nicknamed ‘The Cricket,’ a soldier of the guard. He is cousin to one of our men⁠—Gino.”

“You have been quick about it.”

“There’s no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and some of the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made by Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting.”

“What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?”

“That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only just come to the place, and knows nothing about the other men.”

“We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Is anything known of the government’s intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be tried in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?”

“That we don’t know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of the Legation and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in the Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn’t count for much in the Four Legations; it depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to be in power.”

“They won’t take him in to Ravenna,” Michele interposed.

“What makes you think so?”

“I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella, is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he’s a vindictive sort of brute and won’t give up a chance to spite an enemy.”

“You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?”

“I think he will try to get him hanged.”

Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face had not changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.

“He can hardly do that without some formality,” she said quietly; “but he might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, and justify himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town required it.”

“But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?”

“He has no jurisdiction in military affairs.”

“No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture on such a step without his consent?”

“He’ll never get that,” Marcone interrupted. “Montanelli was always against the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So long as they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinal will always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is their taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he’s lost.”

“We shouldn’t let him get there,” said Michele. “We could manage a rescue on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is another matter.”

“I think,” said Gemma; “that it would be quite useless to wait for the chance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt at Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had better go over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we can think out anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can’t get over one point.”

“Come, Marcone,” said Michele, rising; “we will leave them to think out their scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I want you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn’t sent those cartridges, and they ought to have been here yesterday.”

When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently held out his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.

“You were always a good friend, Cesare,” she said at last; “and a very present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans.”

III

“And I once more most earnestly assure Your Eminence that your refusal is endangering the peace of the town.”

The Governor tried