That Gertrude Trevor, the honest English girl, the daughter of a dignitary of the Church and a prospective bishop, should leave her hotel in the middle of the night in order to wander about streets with which she was most imperfectly acquainted, was a mystery I found difficult to solve. When she had crossed a bridge, which spanned a small ca.n.a.l, she once more turned to the left, pa.s.sed along the footway before a dilapidated palace, and then entered a narrow pa.s.sage on the right. The buildings hereabouts were all large, and, as a natural consequence, the streets were so dark that I had some difficulty in keeping her in sight.
As a matter of fact she had stopped, and I was almost upon her before I became aware of it. Even then she did not seem to realize my presence.
She was standing before a small door, which she was endeavouring to push open. At last she succeeded, and without hesitation began to descend some steps inside. Once more I took up the chase, though where we were, and what we were going to do there, I had not the least idea.
The small yard in which we found ourselves was stone-paved, and for this reason I wondered that she did not hear my footsteps. It is certain, however, that she did not, for she made for a door I could just discern on the opposite side to that by which we had entered, without turning her head. It was at this point that I began to wish I had brought a revolver or some weapon with me. When she was about to open the door I have just mentioned, I called her softly by name, and implored her to wait for me, but still she took no notice. Could she be a somnambulist?
I asked myself. But if this were so, why had she chosen this particular house? Having pa.s.sed the door we stood in a second and larger courtyard, and it was then that the whole mystery became apparent to me. _The house to which I had followed her was the Palace Revecce, and she was on her way to Nikola!_ But for what reason? Was this a trick of Nikola"s, or had her terrible dreams taken such a hold upon her that she was not responsible for her actions? Either alternative was bad enough. Pausing for a moment in the courtyard beside the well, she turned quickly to her right hand and began to ascend the stairs towards that awful room, which, so far as I knew, she had never visited before. When she reached it I scarcely knew how to act. Should I enter behind her and accuse Nikola of having enticed her there, or should I wait outside and overhear what transpired between them? At last I made up my mind to adopt the latter course, and, when she had entered, I accordingly remained outside and waited for her. Through the half-open door I could see Nikola, stooping over what looked like a microscope at a side-table.
He looked up as Miss Trevor entered, and uttered a cry of surprise. As I heard this a sigh of relief escaped me, for his action proved to me that her visit had not been antic.i.p.ated.
"Miss Trevor!" he said, moving forward to greet her, "what does this mean? How did you get here?"
"I have come to you," she faltered, "because I could not remain away. I have come to you that I may beg of you that wretched man"s life. Doctor Nikola, I implore you to spare him!"
"My dear young lady," said Nikola, with a softness in his voice that reminded me of that I had heard in the death-chamber a few hours before, "you cannot understand what you are doing. You must let me take you back to your friends. You should not be here at this hour of the night."
"But I was bound to come--don"t I tell you I could not remain away?
Spare him! Oh! for G.o.d"s sake, spare him!"
"You do not know what you are asking. You are not yourself to-night."
"I only know that I am thinking of you," she answered. "You must not do it! You are so great, so powerful, that you can afford to forgive. Take my life rather than harm him. I will yield it gladly to save you from this sin."
"To--save--me," I heard him mutter to himself. "She would save me!"
"G.o.d would never forgive," she continued, still in the same dreamy voice.
He moved away from her, and from where I stood I could see how agitated he was. For some moments she knelt, looking up at him, with arms outstretched in supplication; then he said something to her in a low voice, which I could not catch. Her answer, however, was plain to me.
"Yes, I have known it always in my dreams," she said.
"And knowing that, you would still wish me to pardon him?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "She knelt, with arms outstretched, in supplication."]
"In the name of G.o.d I would urge you to do so," she answered. "The safety of your soul depends upon it."
Once more Nikola turned away and paced the room.
"Are you aware that Sir Richard Hatteras was here on the same errand this afternoon?" he asked.
"I know it," she replied, though how she could have done so I could not conceive, nor have I been able to do so since.
"And does he know that you have come to me now asking me to forgive?"
"He knows it," she answered, as before. "He followed me here."
As she had never looked behind her, how had she known this also?
Then Nikola approached the door and threw it open.
"Come in, Hatteras," he said. "Your presence is discovered."
"For heaven"s sake, Nikola, tell me what this means," I cried, seeing that the girl did not turn towards me. "Is she asleep, or have you brought your diabolical influence upon her?"
"She is not asleep, and yet she is not conscious of her actions," he answered. "There is something in this that pa.s.ses our philosophy. Had I any idea that she contemplated such a thing, I would have used every effort to prevent it. Miss Trevor, believe me, you must go home with Sir Richard," he continued, tenderly raising the girl to her feet as he spoke.
"I cannot go until you have sworn to forgive," was her reply.
"I must have time to think," he answered. "In the morning you will know everything. Trust me until then, and remember always that while Nikola lives he will be grateful."
Then he a.s.sisted me to conduct her down-stairs, and across the two courtyards, to the little postern door through which we had entered the palace.
"Have no fear for her," he said, addressing me. "She will go home as she came. And in the morning she will remember nothing of what has transpired."
Then taking her hand in his he raised it to his lips, and a moment later had bade me farewell, and had vanished into the palace once more.
As I tracked her from the hotel, so I followed her back to it again. I was none the less anxious, however. If only Nikola would abandon his purpose, and release his enemy, her action and my anxiety would not be in vain. But would he do so, and in the event of his doing this, would his prophecy that Miss Trevor would, in the morning, remember nothing of what had transpired, prove true?
Turning, twisting as before, we proceeded on our way. My chief fear was that the door through which we had made our exit would be found to be shut on our return. Happily, however, this did not prove to be the case.
I saw Miss Trevor enter, and then swiftly followed her. She hastened down the pa.s.sage, ascended the stairs, pa.s.sed along the corridor, and made her way to her own room. As soon as I had made certain that she was safely there, I went on to my own dressing-room, and on entering my wife"s apartment had the good fortune to find her still asleep. I was still more thankful in the morning when I discovered she had not missed me, and being satisfied on this point, I decided to say nothing whatsoever concerning our adventure.
Miss Trevor was the last to put in an appearance at breakfast, and, as you may suppose, I scanned her face with some anxiety. She looked pale and worn, but it was evident from her manner when she greeted me, that she had not the least idea what she had done during the night. Nikola"s promise had proved to be true, and for that reason I was more determined than ever to keep my information to myself. Events could not have turned out more fortunately for all parties concerned.
Shortly after breakfast a letter was handed to me, and, glancing at the writing, I saw that it was from Nikola. I was alone at the time of receiving it, a fact for which I was grateful. I will leave you to imagine with what impatience I opened it. It was short, and merely contained a request that I would call at the Palace Revecce before noon that day, if I could spare the hour. I decided to do so, and I reached the palace twenty minutes or so before the appointed time. The old servitor, who by this time had become familiar with my face, opened the door and permitted me to enter. I inquired if Doctor Nikola were at home, and to my surprise was informed that he was not.
"Perhaps your Excellency would like to see the other Senor?" the old man asked, pointing up the stairs.
I was about to decline this invitation with all possible haste, when a voice I recognized as that of the Don greeted me from the gallery above.
"Won"t you come up-stairs, Sir Richard?" it said. "I have a letter for you, from my friend, Doctor Nikola!"
I could scarcely believe the evidence of my eyes and ears, and when I reached the room of which I had such terrible recollections, my surprise was intensified rather than lessened. Martinos had undergone a complete metamorphosis. In outward appearance he was no longer the same person, who only the day before had filled me with such terrible repulsions. If such a thing could be believed, he was more like his old self--as I had first seen him.
"Where is Doctor Nikola?" I inquired, when I had looked round the room and noticed the absence of the chemical paraphernalia, the mult.i.tude of books, and the general change in it.
"He went away early this morning," the Don replied. "He left a letter for you, and requested me to give it you as soon as you should call. I have much pleasure in doing so now."
I took it and placed it almost mechanically in my pocket.
"Are you aware when he will return?" I asked.
"He will never do so," Martinos replied. "I heard the old man below wailing this morning, because he had lost the best master he had ever had."
"And you?"
"I am ruined, as you know," he said, without any reference to his illness, "but the good doctor has been good enough to place twenty thousand lira to my credit, and I shall go elsewhere and attempt to double it."
He must have been much better, for he smiled in the old deceitful way as he said this. Remembering what I knew of him, I turned from the man in disgust, and bidding him good-day, left the room which I hoped never to see again as long as I might live. In the courtyard I encountered the old caretaker once more.
"So the Senor Nikola has gone away never to return?" I said.
"That is so, Senor," said the old man with a heavy sigh. "He has left me a rich man, but I do not like to think that I shall never see him again."