Though Barbara ate but sparingly, her companion amply atoned for any deficiencies on her part; and when Lambro, going down to the castle cellar, returned with a bottle of delicious maraschino, and a box containing cigars of ambrosial flavor, Paul"s satisfaction was complete.
Lambro having called for his chibouque, perched himself upon a chair and sat cross-legged upon it in oriental fashion, while Jacintha at his command took a live coal from the fire by aid of the tongs, and applied it to the bowl of his pipe. Then the old Palicar puffed away in placid contentment while Jacintha went off to prepare a room for Barbara.
"Those cigars," Lambro presently remarked, addressing Paul, "have never paid Austrian duty. Whence do I procure them? From the sea,--my constant friend. A toast, a toast," he cried, raising his gla.s.s of maraschino. "Here"s to the storm-fiend, and may he never cease to send us rich flotsam and jetsam. The dress I wear," he added, patting his gay costume with pride, "comes from the body of a drowned compatriot. If the signorina requires a new dress we can supply her with one as rich as that she now has. No, I am not a wrecker," he continued, as if in answer to Paul"s suspicions. "I simply take the gifts the waves send me, and they send them pretty frequently on this wild rocky coast. Sometimes it is a Turkish vessel that goes to pieces on the reef out yonder," he went on, nodding in the direction of the sea. "Jacintha and I can hear their cries, but we are unable to help them. I would not help them if I could," he exclaimed with a fierce flash of energy, and taking the pipe from his mouth. "Are not the Turks the enemies of Greece? When I hear their shrieks rising above the sound of the storm--A-a-h!" He finished the sentence with a smack of his lips.
It would be impossible to imagine any being more weird than this little Greek, as he sat there cross-legged, tricked out in the finery of the dead, his eye glittering wildly, and his moustaches tied at the back of his head.
Paul deemed it advisable on Barbara"s account to give a different turn to the conversation.
"This must have been a grand old castle when entire," he said. "The property, is it not, of the Italian Marquis Orsino?"
"Not so," replied Lambro, with a shake of his head. "The marquis sold it seven years ago to my present Master--"
"My guide-book is evidently not up to date."
"Though," added Lambro, "the sale was kept a secret."
"Why so?"
"All the Master"s ways are secret."
"May one ask his name?"
"He has forbidden me to reveal it."
Paul, though conscious that he was treading on delicate ground, could not repress his further curiosity.
"Where does he live when not here?"
"He has never told me."
"What is his nationality?"
"That is equally a mystery to me."
Paul"s interest in the Master increased, and as Lambro did not seem to resent his questioning, he continued,--
"How often does he visit this place?"
"It may be once only in the year, it may be twice or thrice."
"I gather from your first words when I knocked at the door, and also from the previous state of this table, that you are expecting him at the present time?"
"Expecting him!" echoed Lambro. "I am always expecting him. He never gives warning of his coming, either by letter or messenger. A loud knock of the door, and there he is! He may arrive to-night, he may not arrive for six months. But present or absent the larder must always be full, and the dining-room and the bedroom ready for his immediate reception. A hard man is the Master."
"And how long do his visits last?"
"That depends upon the mood of his companion."
"His companion? Do you mean his wife?"
"His wife?" repeated Lambro, with a peculiar laugh. "The Master is a bachelor and will always remain such. He is a member of a peculiar brotherhood pledged to the repudiation of women."
"What is the object of his visits?"
But Lambro was not disposed to be more communicative.
"Captain Cressingham," he said with a deprecatory shake of his head, "you must not ask me to betray my Master"s secrets."
Paul accepted the rebuke with a good grace.
"You speak truth. I have no right to pry into his affairs. I apologize."
Secrecy is always suspicious. Lambro"s reticence served but to whet Paul"s curiosity. A weird interest began to gather around the unknown owner of Castel Nuovo, who was so studious of concealing his ident.i.ty, who without previous warning came and vanished at irregular intervals on errands that necessitated a reserve in speaking of them.
At this point Jacintha reappeared carrying a lighted lamp.
"Would my lady like to retire now?"
Yes, my lady would, and arose for that purpose. Paul held the door as she pa.s.sed forth.
"Good night, signorina."
She returned the valediction, accompanying it with a graceful inclination of her head, and a grateful smile that said as plainly as words could say, "But for you I should now be without bed."
The room to which Jacintha conducted Barbara was intended as a lady"s bedchamber, as the toilet accessories sufficiently proved. A princess could not have found fault with its dainty tasteful appointments. And, surprising to relate, not a particle of dust was visible anywhere; the place was clean, swept, and garnished as if prepared that very day for the reception of a visitor.
"You are not giving up your own room to me, I hope?" said Barbara.
"Oh, no, my lady. I do not sleep here."
Barbara stared hard at the speaker. Seeing that the "Master,"
according to Lambro"s statement, was a foe to womankind, it was singular, to say the least of it, that Castel Nuovo should contain a chamber of this description.
Tired as Barbara was, her curiosity would not let her rest, and she wandered about the room asking a variety of questions. Had this been a bridal-chamber, or a death-chamber, or both? Had the mysterious "Master," mourning the loss of a wife or a daughter, given command that this apartment should be attended to every day, preserved in the same order as that in which it was when last occupied? Barbara could extract nothing from the reticent Jacintha, who seemed troubled by her visitor"s catechism.
In her course round the apartment Barbara"s quick eyes detected a circular piece of violet-colored sealing-wax adhering to one of the walls. She inquired how it came there, but Jacintha professed ignorance. Attracted by an indefinable feeling, Barbara asked that the lamp might be brought near. The wax was situated at a point just where a horizontal band of carving that formed the upper border of a panel touched upon the smooth plain oak above. A closer inspection showed that the wax bore the image of a paschal lamb,--an image, tiny indeed, yet perfectly clear. The wax had been stamped with a seal. Why?
Children might perhaps find pleasure in fixing a piece of wax upon a wall and in stamping it with a seal, but as there were no children at Castel Nuovo this explanation would not suffice. If it were the work of adults what was its purport? Jacintha averred that it was not her doing; she could not say whose it was or a.s.sign any reason for its origin.
"Can you not put me in another room?"
"The other rooms are somewhat damp. Why, my lady, what do you fear?"
she asked in reproachful surprise.
A hard question. It was impossible to link this piece of wax with any harm to herself, so Barbara turned away. The dainty little bed invited her to repose. Why trouble further?
When at last Barbara with a delicious sense of relief had slipped her tired and aching limbs beneath the sheets, Jacintha brought to the bedside a gla.s.s containing a dark-colored liquid.