In a moment a cunningly-concealed door in the face of the rock opened and a wild-haired, black-bearded, brigandish-looking man emerged.
I was alarmed, for I saw I had been entrapped.
My guide uttered a few words in the Piedmontese _patois_, which I did not understand, whereupon the man who had opened the door exclaimed--
"The signore Inglese will please enter."
I hesitated, but I saw that to refuse was useless, so together we went into a large dark cavern. The bolt of the door was shot back into its socket with an ominous sound, while our footsteps echoed weirdly through the distant recesses. The man took up a torch and guided us through intricate turnings, until at last we came to a door which he opened, and we found ourselves in a small natural chamber, with wonderful stalact.i.tes hanging from the roof.
Two sinister-looking men, who were seated at a rough deal table drinking and playing dominoes, rose as we entered.
Neither spoke, but the man who had admitted us poured out some cognac and handed it to me, afterwards filling the other gla.s.ses. The men lifted them to me and tossed off the contents, an example which I followed.
"We are safe here," observed Giovanni, turning to me; "safe from the storm, the frontier guards, from everything."
"I engaged you to conduct me to Lanslebourg, not to bring me here," I said severely.
He smiled.
"This cave has been the grave of many men," he replied, as he calmly selected a cigar from the box upon the table. "It may be yours."
"What do you mean?" I cried, thoroughly alarmed.
"Surely you understand," exclaimed the man who admitted us. "We are outlaws, brigands, contrabandists--whatever you like to call us in your language--it is quite immaterial. Come with me and I will convince you."
Again I hesitated.
"Follow!" he commanded, taking up the torch.
Together we descended a short flight of roughly-hewn steps into a small, dark, damp-smelling cavern below. As he lifted the torch above his head, I saw that the place was occupied.
I shuddered and drew back in horror.
Upon a heap of dirty, mouldy straw, lay a woman. Her dress was ragged and faded, but she was very beautiful, with light golden hair, and a face that betokened culture and refinement. Around her neck was a curious band of a blood-red colour. Upon her countenance was a ghastly pallor, the lips were bloodless, the jaw had dropped, the eyes were fixed and had a stony, horror-stricken look in them, for she was a corpse!
"You are satisfied that we are brigands?" he asked. "Good! Now I will show you that we are contrabandists."
Ascending the steps, we went to another part of the great cave, where he showed me kegs of cognac and wine, boxes of cigars, silks, and an a.s.sortment of dutiable merchandise.
When we returned to where the other men were sitting, one of them, the elder of the party, who spoke with authority, addressed me.
"Well," he said, "you have seen our stronghold, and recognise the impossibility of any one escaping from here, eh?"
"Yes," I replied; "but I cannot conceive why I have been allured here.
I am a poor man, and not worth robbing."
"That is not our intention, signore," the contrabandist answered, with mock politeness, as he puffed a cloud of smoke from his rank cigar.
"True, you have been entrapped, but if you consent to perform for us a small secret service, you are at liberty to depart; and, moreover, our good Giovanni will complete his contract, and see you safely to Lanslebourg."
"What is the service?" I asked.
"It is not at all difficult, and you will run no risk," he replied. He took from an ancient oak coffer a small sealed packet, and added, "We desire this taken to Briancon; will you undertake to do so?"
"What am I to do with it?" I asked.
"The thing is simple enough. You will leave here and go to Lanslebourg, thence to Briancon. Arrived there, you will remain at the Couronne d"Or, and wear this peace of edelweiss in your coat. On the day after to-morrow, a lady will call upon you and ask for the packet, as promised. She will give her name as Madame Trois Etoiles, and will give you a receipt for the packet. This you will send to Giovanni Oldrini at the Poste Restante at Bardonnechia. There the matter will end."
"If she does not call?"
"Then you must advertise to find her, announcing that you particularly desire an interview. Of course your undertaking will be binding, and you will preserve the secret of the existence of this place under penalty of death. Do you agree?"
I glanced round the weird cavern. The last straw of my self-possession was broken, and I was prepared to promise anything in order to escape.
"Agree, signore," urged Giovanni anxiously. "There will be no risk, no inconvenience, I a.s.sure you."
"Very well," I said at last; "if you stipulate this as the price of my ransom, I suppose I am compelled to submit."
"You will swear to preserve our secret; to tell no living soul where you obtained the packet, and to deliver it without fail and with the seals intact?" the elder man asked, handing me a carved ivory crucifix.
"Yes, I swear," I said, taking it and pressing it to my lips.
"Good!" he exclaimed; "here is the packet. Deliver it safely, for its contents, if lost, could never be replaced. Join us in another gla.s.s, and then proceed. Oldrini will go with you to the outskirts of Lanslebourg."
I emptied another gla.s.s of brandy with the smugglers, and a few minutes later saw the sunlight and breathed the fresh mountain air again. When we were well on our downward path, I felt inclined to reprimand my guide for having taken me to the cavern; but on reflection it became plain that he was in league with the contrabandists, and that he carried on smuggling and thieving in the guise of guide.
Onward we trudged down the steep, slippery rocks, scarcely uttering a word for an hour, when suddenly from a sentry-box there appeared a French soldier with rifle presented.
He inquired our names, and why we wished to enter France. A civil reply propitiated him, and he drew himself up at "Attention!" and allowed us to proceed.
We were compelled by the steepness of the mountain to take a circuitous route, so that the descent occupied longer than we had antic.i.p.ated, and when, soon after sunset, we emerged upon the high road to Lanslebourg, he halted to take leave of me.
"Pardon, signore," exclaimed my guide. "I only took you to the cavern because it is imperative that the packet should be delivered. I ask your forgiveness;" and he raised his cap deferentially.
"For what reason is it imperative?" I inquired.
"I regret I cannot tell you," he replied. "_Addio_, signore. Remember your trust, and keep your promise, or--"
He did not finish the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders significantly, and, handing me my valise, turned and left me.
Two days later, I was sitting idly smoking at a little table outside the Couronne d"Or inn at Briancon, that curious little town inside the great fortress that commands the pa.s.s of Mont Genevre. The Alps were purple in the glorious sunset. The sun had long ago been hidden by the mountains behind, on whose tops the ice and snow glistened. Then, as the calm twilight came on, a pale, rosy light suffused the eastern sky, the moon rose, the aspens shook, the outlines of the valley shaded off into darkness and uncertainty, and the last glow sank into the deepening blue.
Having telegraphed to my friends, arranging to meet them at Gren.o.ble on the morrow, I sat silent, thoughtful, and expectant.
Suddenly a musical voice behind exclaimed in English.
"The signore wears the edelweiss, I observe."