Even Garibaldi now admitted that further resistance would only bring disaster upon the city, and cause an absolutely useless loss of life. Mazzini and his two colleagues persisted in their resolution to defend the town to the last, even if the French laid it in ashes, and they even reproached Garibaldi with cowardice. On the night of the 21st the French gained possession of the San Pancrazio gate, having driven a passage up to itunnoticed by the defenders. They at once seized the wall and captured two bastions, after a desperate defence by Garibaldi. They then planted cannon upon these and began to bombard the city. Twelve guns were also planted in a breach that had been effected in the wall, and terrible havoc was made among the villas and palaces in the western part of the city.
Roselli proposed that the whole defending force should join in an attack on the French batteries; but to that Garibaldi would not consent, on the grounds that these could not be carried without immense loss, and that, even if captured, they could not be held against the force the French would bring up to retake them. Gradually the assailants pushed their way forward, encountering a determined resistance at the capture of the Villa Savorelli. On the evening of the 27th no fewer than four hundred of its defenders fell by bayonet wounds, showing how desperately they had contested every foot of the advance. On the morning of the 30th three heavy columns of French advanced simultaneously, and carried the barricades the Romans had erected. Garibaldi, with the most determined of his men, flung himself upon the enemy; and for a time the desperation with which they fought arrested the advance. But it was a last effort, and Garibaldi sent to Mazzini to say that further resistance was impossible.
He was summoned before the triumvirate, and there stated that, unless they were resolved to make Rome a second Saragossa, there was no possible course but to surrender. In the end the triumvirate resigned, issuing a proclamation that the republic gave up a defence which had become impossible. The assembly then appointed Garibaldi as dictator, and he opened negotiations withthe French. So enthusiastic were the citizens that, in spite of the disasters that had befallen them, many were still in favour of erecting barricades in every street and defending every house. The majority, however, acquiesced in Garibaldi’s decision that further resistance would be a crime, since it would only entail immense loss of life and the destruction of the city. For three days negotiations were carried on, and then Garibaldi, with four thousand men, left the city and marched for Tuscany, while the French occupied Rome. But in Tuscany the patriots met with but a poor reception, for the people, though favourable, dared not receive them. The French had followed in hot pursuit; the Austrians in Tuscany were on the look-out for them; and at last, exhausted and starving, they took refuge in the little republic of San Marino. Here they were kindly received; but an Austrian army was advancing, and the authorities of the republic were constrained to petition that the Garibaldians, now reduced to but fifteen hundred men, should be allowed to capitulate, and that they themselves should not be punished for having given them refuge.
These terms were granted, but the Archduke insisted upon Garibaldi himself surrendering. The general, however, effected his escape with his wife and twelve followers, embarking on board a fishing-boat, and they reached the mouth of the Po; the rest of the band were permitted by the Austrians to return to their homes. Garibaldi, alone, with his dying wife, was able to conceal himself among some bushes near the river; his companions were all taken by the Austrians and shot. Nine other boats, laden with his followers, could not get off before the pursuing Austrians arrived; and a heavy fire being directed upon them, they were forced to surrender.Garibaldi’s faithful wife, who had been his companion throughout all his trials, died a few days later. The Austrian pursuit was so hot that he was forced to leave her body; and after many dangers, he reached Genoa. He was not allowed to remain in Sardinia; and from thence took ship to Liverpool, and there embarked for New York.
Fortunately for Captain Percival, he and Professor Forli had, when on June 27th Garibaldi himself recognised that all further resistance was useless, determined to leave the city. When he stated his decision to Garibaldi, the latter warmly approved.
“You have done all that could be done, comrade,” he said; “it would be worse than folly for you to remain here, and throw away your life. Would that all my countrymen had fought as nobly for freedom as you have done, for a cause that is not yours!”
“I have a right to consider it so, having made Rome my home for years, and being married to the daughter of a Roman. However, we may again fight side by side, for assuredly this will not be the last time that an attempt will be made to drive out the despots; and I feel sure that Italy will yet be free. I trust that you do not mean to stay here until it is too late to retire. You must remember that your life is of the greatest value to the cause, and that it is your duty, above all things, to preserve it for your country.”
“I mean to do so,” Garibaldi said. “As soon as all see that further resistance is useless, I shall leave Rome. If I find that any spark of life yet remains in the movement, I shall try to fan it into flame; if not, I shall again cross the Atlantic until my country calls for me.”
That evening Captain Percival and the professor leftthe town. There was no difficulty in doing so, as the whole French force was concentrated at the point of attack. The professor had exchanged his ordinary clothes for some of his companion’s, and their appearance was that of two English tourists, when in the morning they entered Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, by the road leading from Albano. As many fugitives from Rome had, during the past month, embarked from the little port, and it was no unusual thing for English tourists to find their way down there, they had no difficulty in chartering a fishing-craft to take them to Leghorn, it being agreed that they should be landed a mile or two from the town, so that they could walk into it without attracting any attention, as they would assuredly be asked for passports were they to land at the port.
The voyage was altogether unattended by incident; and on landing they made a detour and entered the town from the west, sauntering quietly along, as if they had merely been taking a walk in the country. Ten minutes later they entered the lodging that Madame Forli had taken, after staying for a few days at an hotel. Great indeed was the joy which their arrival excited. The two ladies had been suffering terrible anxiety since the fighting began at Rome, and especially since it was known that the French had obtained possession of one of the gates, and that a fierce struggle was going on. They were sure their husbands would keep their promise to leave the city when the situation became desperate; but it was too likely that Captain Percival might have fallen, for it was certain that he would be in the thick of the fighting by the side of Garibaldi. It was, then, with rapturous delight that they were greeted, and it was found that both were unharmed.
It was at once decided to start by a steamer that would leave the next day. Both the ladies possessed passports: Muriel that which had been made out for her husband and herself on their return from their visit to England; while her mother had one which the professor had obtained for both of them when the troubles first began, and he foresaw that it was probable he might have to leave the country. Therefore no difficulty was experienced on this score; and when the party went on board the next day the documents were stamped without any questions being asked. Not the least delighted among them to quit Leghorn was Frank, who was now four years old. He had found it dull indeed in their quiet lodging at Leghorn, and missed his father greatly, and his grandfather also, for the professor was almost as fond of the child as its parents.
There were but few passengers besides themselves, for in the disturbed state of Italy, and, indeed, of all Europe, there were very few English tourists in 1848; and even those who permanently resided in Italy had for the most part left. The passengers, therefore, were, with the exception of the two ladies and Captain Percival, all Italians, who were, like Signor Forli, leaving because they feared that the liberal opinions they had ventured to express—when it seemed that with the accession of a liberal pontiff to the papal chair better times were dawning for Italy—would bring them into trouble now it was but too evident that the reign of despotism was more firmly established than ever.
The steamer touched at Genoa, and here the greater portion of her passengers left, among them Professor Forli’s party. They took train to Milan, where they stopped for a few days, crossed the Alps by the St. Gothard’sPass, spent a fortnight in Switzerland, and then journeyed through Bâle, down the Rhine to Cologne, and thence to England. They were in no hurry, for time was no object to any of them, as they were well supplied with money; and after the excitement and trouble of the last few months, the quiet and absence of all cause for uneasiness was very pleasant to them. On their arrival at Tom Percival’s town residence in Cadogan Place sad news awaited them. Only a fortnight before, his yacht had been run down at sea, and he and the greater part of the crew had perished.
THE death of Tom Percival naturally made a great difference to his brother’s position. He was now a large land-owner, with a fine place in the country and a house in town. The next nine years of his life were unmarked by any particular incident. Signor Forli and his wife were permanently established in Cadogan Place. The professor had never been accustomed to a country life, and in London he was able to indulge in all his former pursuits. He had always laid by a certain amount of his income, and could have lived in some comfort in London, as until the troubles began he had received, in addition to his modest salary as a professor, the rents of a property he possessed near Naples, of which place he was a native. But neither Captain Percival nor his wife would hear of his setting up an establishment of his own.
“We shall not be up in town above three months of the year at the outside,” the former said; “and of course Muriel will always want to have you with us for that time, for I know very well that you will seldom tear yourself from your work and come down and stay with us in the country. It will be far better for us that the house shall be always used, instead of being left for nine months in the year to caretakers. You can fit up the library with cases for your coins andmanuscripts. You have already made the acquaintance of many of the scientific and learned men you formerly corresponded with, and will soon get a very pleasant society of your own. It will be better in all respects. You can shut up the rooms you don’t use, while the servants whom I keep to look after the house must in any case be told to consider you as their master; and you can, if you choose, get a couple of Italian servants as your own special domestics.” And so, after much argument, it was settled, and for some years things went on to the satisfaction of all.
When ten years old Frank was sent to a preparatory school for Harrow, and three years later to the great school itself. Just at this time the professor determined to pay a visit to Italy. Since the fall of Rome everything had gone on quietly there; and although persons suspected of liberal ideas had been seized and thrown into prison without any public inquiry, he considered that now that he had been settled in England for years, and had become a naturalised British subject, he could without any risk go over to make an effort to obtain a reversal of the confiscation of his property in the Neapolitan territory. Before starting he had called upon the official representative of the Neapolitan government, and had been assured by him that his passport as a British subject would be respected, and that if he refrained from taking any part in politics he could travel in King Ferdinand’s territories without any fear of his movements being in any way interfered with.
Up to this time Captain Percival and his wife had been strongly against the proposed visit, but after the professor had received this official assurance they believed with him that he could in perfect safety undertake thejourney. He wrote on his arrival at Naples, stating that he had, as soon as he landed, called upon one of the ministers, and reported to him the assurance that the envoy in London had given him, and had been told that, while expressing no opinion upon the probability of his obtaining a reversal of the confiscation of his estate, there could be no objection whatever to his endeavouring to do so, but that he did not think the government would authorise his establishing himself permanently in the kingdom, as his well-known political opinions would naturally render him obnoxious. He had given his assurance that he had no intention whatever of remaining beyond the time necessary for the purpose for which he had come; that he had now permanently settled in England, and had only come over for the purpose that he had specified; and that on no account would he hold any political discussions with such personal friends as he had in Italy, or give any expression whatever of his own views. He wrote that, as he had said before starting, he did not intend to call upon any of his former acquaintances, as, if he did so, it might bring them into discredit with the government.
No other letter was received from him. After waiting for three weeks, Captain Percival wrote to the proprietor of the hotel from which the previous letter was dated, asking if he was still there, and if not, if he was aware of his present address. The answer was received in due time, saying that Professor Forli had gone out one morning, a week after his arrival, with the intention, he believed, of visiting his former estate, but that he had not returned. Two days later a person had arrived bearing a letter from him, saying that he had changed his plans and should not return to Naples, and requesting that his luggage and allpersonal effects should be handed over to the bearer, who would discharge the amount owing for his bill. He had complied with the request, and had since received no communication from Professor Forli. Captain Percival went at once to call upon the minister for foreign affairs, stated the whole circumstances to him, and the assurance that the professor had received from the Neapolitan envoy before starting, and said that he felt sure that, in spite of his assurance and the protection of his passport as a British subject, his father-in-law had been seized and thrown into prison.
“If that is the case, a serious wrong has been committed,” the minister said. “But we cannot assume that without some proof. He may have been seized by some brigands, who by a ruse have obtained possession of his effects; possibly the person now in possession of the estate, fearing that he might be ousted from it, has taken these means for suppressing a claimant who might be dangerous. However, what you have told me is sufficient for me to commence action, by making a complaint to the Neapolitan government that a British subject, duly furnished with a passport, is missing, and requesting that measures shall at once be taken to ascertain what has become of him.”
Correspondence went on for three or four months, the Neapolitan government protesting that they had made inquiries in every direction, but had obtained no clue whatever as to Professor Forli’s movements from the time when he left his hotel, and disclaiming any knowledge whatever of him. It was now January 1858, and Lord Palmerston, who was then prime minister, took the case up warmly, and Captain Percival had several interviews with him.
“I quite agree with you, sir,” the minister said, “thathe is probably in a Neapolitan dungeon; but at present we have no absolute proof of it; if we had I should summon Ferdinand to release him under a threat of war.”
“I am quite ready to go out, sir, to make personal inquiries; and if you could obtain for me an order to visit the various jails and fortresses in the Neapolitan territories, I may succeed in finding him.”
“I will obtain for you such an order,” Lord Palmerston said decidedly. “If they refuse my request, I shall be forced to the conclusion that they are afraid of your finding him there—not that I think it is likely you will do so. Indeed I regard it as certain that he would be removed from any prison before you arrived there, or if still there, that his dungeon would not be shown to you. At the same time, you would be doing good work. Already there have been some terrible disclosures as to the state of the Neapolitan prisons. These, however, have chiefly been made by men who have been confined there, and have been denounced as calumnies by the Neapolitan government; but coming from you, armed with the authority of our foreign office, they could not but make a profound impression. They might force the authorities to ameliorate the present state of things, and would certainly enlist the sympathy of the British public with the cause with which Professor Forli was associated, and for which I am aware you yourself fought.”
A fortnight later Captain Percival was again sent for by the foreign minister.
“Here,” the latter said, “is a royal order from the King of Naples for you to view any or all the prisons in his dominions without let or hindrance, in order to assure yourself that Professor Forli is not an inmate of any of them.”
Two days later Captain Percival started. On arriving at Naples, he first called upon the Neapolitan minister, who expressed himself with some indignation on the fact that the assurance of the government that they knew nothing of Professor Forli’s disappearance had been doubted; but stated that they were ready to offer him any facility in his search. Before commencing this, Captain Percival went out to the professor’s estate, near Capua, and saw the proprietor, who assured him that he had neither seen nor heard anything of its late owner; and although his assertions would have weighed but little if unsupported, Captain Percival’s investigations in the town and of several persons upon the estate all tended to show that the professor had not been seen there. His appearance was familiar to many, and he could hardly have visited the place without being recognised. Captain Percival went to see several of Signor Forli’s old friends, upon whom he would almost certainly have called before going to the estate, and from whom, indeed, he would have received far more information as to its condition than he would have obtained by direct application to a man who could not but have regarded him with hostility; none of them, however, had heard of his return to Italy.
After stopping two or three days there, he returned to Naples and began his inspection of the prisons. The Royal order being presented, he was everywhere received courteously, allowed to inspect them from the lowest dungeons to the attics under the roofs, and also to hold conversations with the prisoners. He had no idea that he would actually find the professor; his great hope was that he should learn from prisoners that he had been confined there, as this would enable the British government to demand his instant release. Terrible as hadbeen the descriptions he had heard of the treatment of the prisoners and the state of the jails, they fell far short of the reality; and he not only sent detailed reports to the government, but also toThe Times, which published them in full. They were copied into every paper in the kingdom, and created a general feeling of indignation and disgust.
Failing to obtain the smallest information as to the professor at Naples, Captain Percival then went down to Salerno, and left there with the intention of visiting the prisons in Calabria and at Reggio, and afterwards of crossing into Sicily and trying the gaols there. Four days after he left Salerno, the servant he had engaged in Naples returned to the town with the news that the carriage had been attacked by brigands, and that his master, who always carried a brace of pistols, had offered a desperate resistance, but had been killed. The horses had been taken out of the carriage, and they and Captain Percival’s luggage had been carried off to the hills. He himself had been allowed to return. The Governor of Salerno at once sent the man to Naples; the news was officially communicated to the British envoy, who telegraphed at once to London. A message was returned, saying that an official communication would be addressed to the government, and in the meantime he was to send down one of the officers of the embassy to inquire into the whole matter. He was to request the Neapolitan government to furnish an escort from Salerno, and was also to demand that steps should be taken to pursue and bring the brigands to justice.
The secretary of the legation had no difficulty in obtaining the order for an escort; and taking with him the servant who had brought the news, proceeded tothe place where the affair had occurred. The carriage was found overthrown by the roadside. There were two or three bullet-holes in it; there was a dark patch evidently caused by blood in the road close by; and a few yards away was a bloodstained cap, which the servant recognised as being that of Captain Percival. Following up a track which led off the main road from here, they came upon some fragments of letters, among them one on which were the words, “Your loving wife, Muriel.” For two or three days the hills on each side of the track were searched, but no sign whatever was found of Captain Percival’s body. In the meantime, a strong force of carabinieri searched the mountains, and three weeks after the return to Naples of the search party from the legation, came the news that they had surprised and killed a notorious brigand leader with three of his followers, and had taken prisoner a fourth. This man was sent to Naples, and there questioned by a judicial official in the presence of the secretary of the legation.
He acknowledged that he had been one of the party, consisting of their leader and seven followers, who had attacked the Englishman’s carriage. They had not intended to kill him, but to carry him off for ransom; he, however, resisted so desperately that he was shot. Although very seriously wounded, they had carried him up to the mountains, believing that he would recover, and that they might still make money out of him. The man himself had been sent down to Salerno to ascertain whether the authorities were taking any steps to hunt down his capturers. As soon as he learned that a strong force of carabinieri had been ordered out in pursuit, he had returned to the hut occupied by his chief. He found that during his absence the prisoner had died. He had neverasked where he had been buried, for it was a matter that did not concern him. The contents of the portmanteau had been divided among the party; he was himself now wearing the boots and one of the shirts of the dead man. That was all he knew.
The captain of the carabinieri testified that he had found an English portmanteau and many articles, some of which bore the initials “L. P.” upon them; there was a brace of handsome pistols of English make, which were used by the chief of the brigands in the fight; and in a cupboard among other things was the royal order for Captain Percival to visit his majesty’s prisons. A diligent search had been made in the neighbourhood of the hut, but the grave of the English gentleman had not been discovered. In due time the brigand was placed on trial, and was sentenced to imprisonment for life; and so the matter ended, save for the two widowed women and Frank.
It had been a heavy blow indeed for the lad, who was passionately attached to his father, and had also loved the professor, who had always been extremely fond of him. He was at home for Easter when the terrible news arrived. Neither his mother nor grandmother expressed a doubt that his father had been murdered; and when the news of the confession of one of the band and the discovery of Captain Percival’s belongings in the hut of the brigands arrived, they gave up all hope of ever seeing him again.
Madame Forli, however, while not doubting that Captain Percival had been killed, believed that the Neapolitan government were at the bottom of the matter. “I know what the methods of the Neapolitans are,” she said; “and the sensation caused by Leonard’s letters to the papershere may have decided them to put an end by any method to further revelations, and they may very well have employed these brigands to carry out their purpose. Every one knows that in many cases these men are in alliance with the officers of the police; and the latter are well paid to wink at their doings, and even to furnish them with information of the persons worth robbing, and to put them on their guard when, as occasionally happens, a raid is made by the carabinieri in the mountains. A capture is hardly ever effected; and while there is little chance of a political prisoner once shut up in their dungeons making his escape, notorious brigands frequently succeed in doing so. Nobody dares to speak of their suspicions; but there can be little doubt that the prison officials are bribed to connive at their escape, knowing well enough that the government will not trouble over the matter, while on the other hand the escape of a political prisoner brings disgrace and punishment upon all the prison officials.”
“I cannot think—I will not think so, mother,” Muriel exclaimed; “for were it so, the same treatment might be given to him that has, we have no doubt, befallen my father. A thousand times better that Leonard should have been killed, than that he should drag out his existence in such utter misery as that which he has described as being the lot of prisoners in the dungeons of Bomba. The brigands may have been set on by their government. That is possible—I can believe that iniquitous government to be guilty of anything—but whether Leonard was attacked merely for plunder, or for ransom, or by the connivance of the government, I cannot and will not doubt that he is dead; the story of one of the band can leave no doubt of this, and it is confirmed by his servant, who saw him fall. Never try to shake my confidence in that, mother.It was almost more than I could bear to think of my father as confined in one of those dungeons; if I thought for a moment that Leonard could be there too, I believe that I should lose my reason.”
Frank returned to school after the short holidays. His mother thought that it would be better so, as the routine of work and play would give him little time for moping over his loss. He worked harder than he had ever done at school before; but obtained leave off cricket, and spent his time out of school in long walks with one or other of his chums. After the summer holiday he was himself again. He was quieter than he had been, and held aloof from fun and mischief, but joined in the sports vigorously, and regained the ground he had lost, and came to be regarded as likely some day to be one of the representatives of the school.
When it seemed that the search for the body of Captain Percival had failed, Mrs. Percival wrote to the secretary of the legation in Naples, saying that she would be glad if her husband’s courier would come over to see her.
“I naturally wish to know,” she said, “as much as I can of the last movements of my husband from the only person who was with him; and I would willingly bear the expenses of his journey both ways, and pay him fifty pounds. I did not receive any letter from my husband during the fortnight preceding his death, and want to learn as much as possible about him.”
The secretary, on receiving the letter, sent the note to the chief of the police, in whose charge the man had been while the investigations were proceeding; an answer was returned saying that the man Beppo Paracini was not now in his charge, but that perhaps he could find him in thecourse of a few hours, and would, on doing so, send him to the legation at once.
Instead of seeing the man himself, however, the officer went to the director of the secret police. “As this affair has been in your department rather than in mine, signor, I thought it best to bring you this note I have just received from the British legation before taking any steps in the matter.”
The official read the note through. “You have done quite right,” he said. “The affair has been a very troublesome one, and now that it has practically come to an end, it would not do to take any false step in the matter. You shall hear from me in the course of the day.”
He sat thinking deeply for some minutes after the other had left him, then he touched a bell.
“Luigi,” he said, when a man entered, “go and fetch Beppo Paracini; if he is not in, find where he has gone and follow him.”
Half an hour later the courier entered. When before the court he had been dressed in the fashion affected by his class; now he was in dark, quiet clothes, and might have been taken for an advocate or notary.
“Beppo,” he said, “I thought that we had finished with that troublesome affair of the Englishman; but there is again occasion for your services in the same direction. Here is a letter from the secretary of the British legation saying that he wishes to see you, for that the Signora Percival has written to him to say that she is anxious to learn more of the last days of her husband, and is willing to pay your expenses to England and to give you fifty pounds for your services, if you would be willing to go to her for a few days. I regard this as a fortunate circumstance. The woman’s husband and her father have been constant enemies ofthe kingdom. Percival was a bosom friend of Garibaldi; her father was also his friend, though not to the same degree. Ever since they established themselves in England his family, who are unfortunately rich, have befriended Italian exiles.
“Forli was acquainted with all his compatriots in London, who, like himself, were men of education and position, and had escaped from justice. In that house any plot that was on foot, especially if Garibaldi was a leading spirit in it, would certainly be known. No doubt the loss of her husband will make this woman more inveterate against us than ever. I have often wished that I could establish an agent in her house, to keep me informed of what was going on there, who visited it, whether any meetings and consultations were held there, from whom they received letters, and the purport of them, but I have never before seen my way to it. The woman Forli is herself English, and consequently since her husband’s death no Italian servants have been kept in the house. This letter gives me the opportunity I have desired. I wish you to go to the British legation, and to express your willingness to accept the offer that is made, and if possible to obtain a situation in the house.
“You could represent that you were anxious to obtain a place of any kind in England, for that, owing to the part that you have taken in the search for Percival’s body—a search which brought about the death of the brigand Rapini and the breaking up of his band—your life was no longer safe there from the vengeance of his associates. You can say that before you became a courier you were in the service of several noble families—of course you will be provided with excellent testimonials—and as it was your zeal in her late husband’s behalf that hadbrought you into this strait, it is quite possible that she may offer you a post in the household. You can declare that you do not desire high wages, but simply a shelter. You will, of course, report yourself on arriving in London to the head of our secret agents there, and will act generally under his directions. I need not say that you will be well paid.”
“I will gladly accept the mission, signor, for, to say the truth, I am not without some apprehensions such as you suggest. I have changed my appearance a good deal; still, I cannot flatter myself that I could not be detected by any one on the search for me, and I do think that some of Rapini’s band, knowing that I was with the carabinieri, may have vowed vengeance on me; and, as you know, signor, a man so threatened cannot calculate on a very long life.”
“That is so, Beppo. Then we may consider the matter settled. If you cannot succeed in obtaining a position in the house of this family, I shall instruct my agent in London to utilise your services there, at any rate for the next six months. After that time you may return without much risk, for when it is found that you have disappeared from all your former haunts, the search for you is not likely to last long. At any rate, you might as well mention to those who have known you as a courier, that you intend to establish yourself either in Paris or Berlin. For as you speak both French and German as well as English, that would in any case be the course that a prudent man would adopt, after being mixed up in an affair that ended badly for the brigands. Well, in the first place, you had better go at once to the legation and accept their terms. Come here at eleven o’clock to-morrow, and I will give you further instructions.”
Thus it happened that when Frank came home next time from school, he was surprised at having the door opened to him by a grave-looking servant in plain clothes, who said in English, with a very slight foreign accent: “The Signora Percival is in the drawing-room, sir. I will see to your baggage and settle with the cabman.”
“Whom have you got hold of now, mother?” he said, after the first greeting—“an Italian? Isn’t he a fearfully respectable-looking man? Looks like a clergyman got up as a valet.”
“He was your dear father’s courier, Frank. I sent for him to come over here, as I wished to learn all about your father’s last days. The poor fellow was in fear of his life, owing to the evidence that he had given against the brigands. William had given me notice that he was going to leave only the day before; and as Beppo had served in several noble families, who had given him splendid testimonials, and was afraid to return to Italy, I was very glad to take him in William’s place, especially as he only asked the same wages I paid before. I congratulate myself on the change, for he is quite the beau-ideal of a servant—very quiet in the house, ready to do anything, gets on well with the other servants, and is able to talk in their own language to any of his countrymen who come here, either as visitors or as exiles in need of assistance. He has, indeed, saved me more than once from impostors; he has listened to their stories, and having been a courier, and knowing every town in Italy, on questioning them he found out that their whole story was a lie.”
“That is all right, mother; if you like him, that is everything. I own that I liked William; I am sorry that he has gone. I shall be some time getting accustomed to this chap, for he certainly is fearfully grave and respectable.”
ONE Saturday early in March, 1860, Frank, now sixteen years of age, on starting for the football ground, was told that the house-master wished to see him, and he at once went into his study.
“Percival, I have received a note from your mother, asking me to let you out till Monday morning. She says that she particularly wants to see you, and will be glad if you will start at once. Of course I will do so; you had better catch the next train, if you can.”
“What in the world can the mater want to see me in such a hurry for?” Frank said to himself in a rather discontented tone as he left the master’s study. “It is a frightful nuisance missing the match this afternoon! I don’t know what Hawtrey will say when I tell him that I cannot play. Ah! here he is.”
“What is up, Percival?”
“I am awfully sorry to say that I have just received a message from my mater calling me up to town at once. I have no idea what it is about; but it must be something particular, for I told her when I wrote to her last that this was going to be the toughest match of the season; still, of course I must go.”
“I see that, Percival. It is a terrible nuisance; you are certainly the third best in the house, and now I shall haveto put Fincham in, I suppose, and I am afraid that will mean the loss of the match.”
“He is as strong as I am, Hawtrey.”
“Yes; he is strong enough and heavy enough, but he is desperately slow. However, I must make the best of him.”
Frank hurried upstairs, and in ten minutes came down again, dressed. He ran the greater part of the way to the station, and just caught the up train. The disappointment over the football match was forgotten now. Thinking it over, he had come to the conclusion that either his mother or grandmother must have been taken seriously ill. It could hardly be his mother, for it was she who had written; still, she might have managed to do that, even if she had met with some sort of accident, if it was not too serious. If not she, it must be the signora, as he generally called her, and as he was very fond of her, he felt that her loss would be a heavy one indeed. His anxiety increased as he neared London; and as soon as the train stopped at Euston he jumped out, seized the first hansom, and told the cabman to drive fast to Cadogan Place. He leaped out, handed his fare to the cabman, ran up the steps, and knocked at the door.
“Is every one well, Beppo?” he asked breathlessly, as the servant opened it.
“Yes, sir,” the footman replied, in his usual calm and even voice.
“Thank God for that!” he exclaimed. “Where is my mother?”
“In the dining-room, sir, with the signora.”
Frank ran upstairs. “Mother, you have given me quite a fright,” he said. “From your message I thought that some one must have been suddenly taken ill, or you would never have sent for me when you knew that we played inthe final ties for the house championship to-day. I have been worrying horribly all the way up to town.”
“I forgot all about your match, Frank,” his mother said. “I have had a letter that put it out of my head entirely.”
“A letter, mother?”
“Yes, Frank; from your hero, Garibaldi.”
“What is it about, mother?” Frank exclaimed excitedly, for he had heard so much of the Italian patriot from his father, and of their doings together in South America and the siege of Rome, that his admiration for him was unbounded.
“Sit down, Frank, and I will tell you all about it. The letter was addressed to your dear father. Garibaldi, being in Caprera, probably has but little news of what is passing at Naples. He had heard of my father’s disappearance, but was apparently in ignorance of what has happened since.”
She took out the letter and read:
“‘My dear Comrade and Friend,—“‘When I last wrote to you it was to condole with you on the disappearance of that true patriot and my good friend, Professor Forli. I hope that long ere this he has been restored to you; but if, as I fear, he has fallen into the clutches of the rascally government of Naples, I am afraid that you will never hear of him again. Several times, when you have written to me, you have told me that you were prepared to join me when I again raised the flag of Italian independence, though you held aloof when France joined us against Austria. You did rightly, for we were betrayed by the French as we were at Rome, and my birthplace, Nice, has been handed over to them. You also said that you would help us withmoney; and, as you know, money is one of our chief requisites. The time has come. I am convinced that the population of the Neapolitan territories are now reduced to such a state of despair by the tyranny of their government that they will be ready to hail us as deliverers.“‘My plan is this: I am sure a thousand or so of the men who fought with me in the Alps will flock to my standard, and with these I intend to effect a landing in Sicily. If I capture Palermo and Messina I think I can rely upon being joined by no small number of men there, and by volunteers from all parts of Italy; five thousand men in all will be sufficient, I think—at any rate, that number collected, I shall cross to the mainland and march upon Naples. You may think that the adventure is a desperate one, but that is by no means my opinion; you know how easily we defeated the Neapolitan troops in 1848. I believe that we shall do so still more easily now, for certainly very many of them must share in the general hatred of the tyrant. Come, dear friend, and join us; the meeting-place is called the Villa Spinola, which is a few miles from Genoa.“‘I do not anticipate any great interference from Cavour; he will run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, as your proverb has it. He dare not stop us; for I am convinced that such is the state of public opinion in Italy, that it might cost his master his crown were he to do so. On the other hand, he would be obliged to assume an attitude of hostility, or he would incur the anger of Austria, of the Papacy, and possibly of France; therefore I think that he will remain neutral, although professing to do all in his power to prevent our moving. I am promised some assistance in money, but I am sure that this will fall short of the needs. We must buy armsnot only for ourselves, but to arm those who join us; we must charter or buy steamers to carry us to Sicily. Once there, I regard the rest as certain. Come to me with empty hands, and you will receive the heartiest welcome as my dear friend and comrade; but if you can aid us also with money, not only I, but all Italy, will be grateful to you. I know that you need no inducement, for your heart is wholly with us, and all the more so from this disappearance of madame’s father, doubtless the work of the tyrants. Need I say that our first step in every town and fortress we capture will be to release all political prisoners confined there?—and it may be that among these we will find Professor Forli. Turr will be with me, Baron Stocco of Calabria, Bixio, and Tuckory; and Madame Carroli has written to tell me that she places her three sons at my disposal in the place of their brave brother, and will, moreover, supply me with money to the utmost of her power. Come, then, dear friend, aid me with your arm and counsel, and let us again fight side by side in the cause of liberty.’”
“‘My dear Comrade and Friend,—
“‘When I last wrote to you it was to condole with you on the disappearance of that true patriot and my good friend, Professor Forli. I hope that long ere this he has been restored to you; but if, as I fear, he has fallen into the clutches of the rascally government of Naples, I am afraid that you will never hear of him again. Several times, when you have written to me, you have told me that you were prepared to join me when I again raised the flag of Italian independence, though you held aloof when France joined us against Austria. You did rightly, for we were betrayed by the French as we were at Rome, and my birthplace, Nice, has been handed over to them. You also said that you would help us withmoney; and, as you know, money is one of our chief requisites. The time has come. I am convinced that the population of the Neapolitan territories are now reduced to such a state of despair by the tyranny of their government that they will be ready to hail us as deliverers.
“‘My plan is this: I am sure a thousand or so of the men who fought with me in the Alps will flock to my standard, and with these I intend to effect a landing in Sicily. If I capture Palermo and Messina I think I can rely upon being joined by no small number of men there, and by volunteers from all parts of Italy; five thousand men in all will be sufficient, I think—at any rate, that number collected, I shall cross to the mainland and march upon Naples. You may think that the adventure is a desperate one, but that is by no means my opinion; you know how easily we defeated the Neapolitan troops in 1848. I believe that we shall do so still more easily now, for certainly very many of them must share in the general hatred of the tyrant. Come, dear friend, and join us; the meeting-place is called the Villa Spinola, which is a few miles from Genoa.
“‘I do not anticipate any great interference from Cavour; he will run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, as your proverb has it. He dare not stop us; for I am convinced that such is the state of public opinion in Italy, that it might cost his master his crown were he to do so. On the other hand, he would be obliged to assume an attitude of hostility, or he would incur the anger of Austria, of the Papacy, and possibly of France; therefore I think that he will remain neutral, although professing to do all in his power to prevent our moving. I am promised some assistance in money, but I am sure that this will fall short of the needs. We must buy armsnot only for ourselves, but to arm those who join us; we must charter or buy steamers to carry us to Sicily. Once there, I regard the rest as certain. Come to me with empty hands, and you will receive the heartiest welcome as my dear friend and comrade; but if you can aid us also with money, not only I, but all Italy, will be grateful to you. I know that you need no inducement, for your heart is wholly with us, and all the more so from this disappearance of madame’s father, doubtless the work of the tyrants. Need I say that our first step in every town and fortress we capture will be to release all political prisoners confined there?—and it may be that among these we will find Professor Forli. Turr will be with me, Baron Stocco of Calabria, Bixio, and Tuckory; and Madame Carroli has written to tell me that she places her three sons at my disposal in the place of their brave brother, and will, moreover, supply me with money to the utmost of her power. Come, then, dear friend, aid me with your arm and counsel, and let us again fight side by side in the cause of liberty.’”
Frank leapt to his feet. “You will let me go in my father’s place, mother, will you not? Many of those who will follow Garibaldi will be no older than myself, and probably not half so strong; none can hate the tyranny of Naples more than I do. It is the cause for which my father and grandfather fought; and we now have greater wrongs than they had to avenge.”
“That is what I thought you would say, Frank,” his mother said sadly. “‘Tis hard indeed to part with a son after having lost father and husband; but my father was an Italian patriot, my husband fought for Italy; in giving you up I give up my all; yet I will not say you nay. So fierce is the indignation in England at thehorrors of the tyrants’ prisons that I doubt not many English will, when they hear of Garibaldi’s landing in Sicily, go out to join him; and if they are ready in the cause only of humanity to risk their lives, surely we cannot grudge you in the cause not only of humanity, but of the land of our birth.”
“I feel sure that father would have taken me, had he been here,” Frank said earnestly.
“I believe he would, Frank. I know that he shared to the full my father’s hatred of the despots who grind Italy under their heel; and besides the feeling that animated him, one cannot but cherish the hope that my father may still be found alive in one of those ghastly prisons. Of course my mother and I have talked the matter over. We both lament that your studies should be interrupted; but it can be for a few months only, and probably you will be able to return to Harrow when the school meets again after the long holiday—so that, in fact, you will only lose three months or so.”
“That makes no odds one way or another, mother. In any case, I am not likely to be a shining light in the way of learning.”
“No—I suppose not, Frank; and with a fine estate awaiting you, there is no occasion that you should be, though of course you will go through Oxford or Cambridge. However, we need not think of that now.”
“And will you be sending him any money, mother?”
“Certainly. Your father put by a certain sum every year in order that he might assist Garibaldi when the latter again raised the flag of freedom in Italy—a cause which was sacred in his eyes. At the time he left England, this fund amounted to £10,000; and as he never knew when the summons from Garibaldi might arrive,he transferred it to my name, so that he need not come back to England, should a rising occur before his return. So you will not go empty-handed.”
“That will be a splendid gift, mother. I suppose I shall not go back to school before I start?”
“No, Frank. Since you are to go on this expedition, the sooner you start the better. I shall write to your headmaster, and tell him that I am most reluctantly obliged to take you away from school for a few months; but that it is a matter of the greatest importance, and that I hope he will retain your name on the books and permit you to return when you come back to England.”
“If he won’t, mother, it will not matter very much. Of course I should like to go back again; but if they won’t let me, I shall only have to go to a coach for a year or two.”
“That is of little consequence,” his mother agreed; “and perhaps, after going through such an exciting time, you will not yourself care about returning to school again. You must not look upon this matter as a mere adventure, Frank; it is a very, very perilous enterprise, in which your life will be risked daily. Were we differently situated, I should not have dreamt of allowing you to go out; but we have identified ourselves with the cause of freedom in Italy. Your grandfather lost everything—his home, his country, and maybe his life; and your father, living as he did in Rome, and married to the daughter of an Italian, felt as burning a hatred for the oppression he saw everywhere round him as did the Italians themselves; perhaps more so, for being accustomed to the freedom Englishmen enjoy, these things appeared to him a good deal more monstrous than they did to those who had been used to them all their lives. Herisked death a score of times in the defence of Rome; and he finally lost his life while endeavouring to discover whether my father was a prisoner in one of the tyrants’ dungeons. Thus, although in all other respects an English boy—or Italian only through your grandfather—you have been constantly hearing of Italy and its wrongs, and on that point feel as keenly and strongly as the son of an Italian patriot would do. I consider that it is a holy war in which you are about to take part—a war that, if successful, will open the doors of dungeons in which thousands, among whom may be my father, are lingering out their lives for no other cause than that they dared to think, and will free a noble people who have for centuries been under the yoke of foreigners. Therefore, as, if this country were in danger, I should not baulk your desire to enter the army, so now I say to you, join Garibaldi; and even should you be taken from me, I shall at least have the consolation of feeling that it was in a noble cause you fell, and that I sent you, knowing that my happiness as well as your life hung upon the issue. I want you to view the matter then, my boy, not in the light of an exciting adventure, but in the spirit in which the Crusaders went out to free the Holy Sepulchre, in which the Huguenots of France fought and died for their religion.”
“I will try to do so, mother,” Frank said gravely; “at any rate, if the cause was good enough for my father and grandfather to risk their lives for, it is good enough for me. But you know, mother,” he went on, in a changed voice, “you can’t put an old head on to young shoulders; and though I shall try to regard it as you say, I am afraid that I shan’t be able to help enjoying it as a splendid adventure.”
His mother smiled faintly. “I suppose that is boynature. At any rate, I am sure that you will do your duty, and there is certainly no occasion for your doing it with a sad face; and bear in mind always, Frank, that you are going out not so much to fight, as to search every prison and fortress that may be captured, to question every prisoner whether he has heard or known any one answering the description of your grandfather, or—or——” and her lip quivered, and her voice broke.
“Or, mother?”—and he stood surprised as Mrs. Percival burst suddenly into tears, and the signora, rising from her seat, went hastily to her, and put her arm round her neck. It was a minute or two before Mrs. Percival took her hands from her face, and went on,—
“I was going to say, Frank, or of your father.”
Frank started, as if he had been suddenly struck. “My father,” he repeated, in a low tone. “Do you think, mother—do you think it possible? I thought there was no doubt as to how he was killed.”
“I have never let myself doubt,” Mrs. Percival went on. “Whenever the thought has come into my mind during the past two years I have resolutely put it aside. It would have been an agony more than I could bear to think it possible that he could be alive and lingering in a dungeon beyond human aid. Never have I spoken on the subject, except to my mother, when she first suggested the possibility; but now that there is a chance of the prison doors being opened, I may let myself not hope—it can hardly be that—but pray that in God’s mercy I may yet see him again.” And as she again broke down altogether, Frank, with a sudden cry, threw himself on his knees beside her, and buried his face in his arms on her lap, his whole figure shaken by deep sobs.
Mrs. Percival was the first to recover her composure,and gently stroked his hair, saying: “You must not permit yourself to hope, my boy; you must shut that out from your mind as I have done, thinking of it only as a vague, a very vague and distant possibility.”
“But how, mother, could it be?” he asked presently, raising his head. “Did we not hear all about his being killed, how Beppo saw him shot, and how one of the band testified that he was dead and buried?”
“So it seemed to me, Frank, when my mother first pointed out to me that all this might be false, and that just as the government of Naples declared they were absolutely ignorant as to your grandfather’s disappearance when it appeared to us a certainty that it was due to their own act, so they would not hesitate a moment to get rid of your father, whose letters as to the state of their prisons were exciting an intense feeling against them in every free country. She said it would be easy for them to bribe or threaten his servant into telling any tale they thought fit; he or some other agent might have informed the banditti that a rich Englishman would be passing along the road at a certain time, and that the government would be ready to pay for his capture and delivery to them. The prisoner taken may have been promised a large sum to repeat the story of the Englishman having died and been buried. It was all possible, and though I was determined not to think of him as a prisoner, my mother, who knew more of these things than I did, and how matters like this were managed in Italy, thought that it was so. Still to my mind there were, and still are, reasons against hope, for surely the Neapolitan government would have preferred that the brigands should kill him, rather than that they themselves should have the trouble of keeping him in prison.”
“Possibly they would have preferred that,” Signora Forli said, speaking for the first time. “They knew that he was an Englishman, and doubtless learned that he carried loaded pistols, and may have reckoned confidently upon his resisting and being killed, and may have been disappointed because the brigands, hoping for a large ransom, carried him off wounded.”
“But even then,” Mrs. Percival said, “they could have sent up their agents to the brigands and paid them to finish their work.”
“Yes, possibly that is what they did do; but though I have never spoken to you on the subject since you told me not to, I have thought it over many and many times, and it seems to me that they would scarcely do so, for they might thus put themselves into the power of these bandits. Any one of the band might make his way to Naples, go to the British legation, and under the promise of a large sum of money and protection denounce the whole plot. It seems to me more likely that they would send an agent to the chief brigand, and pay him a sum of money to deliver the captive up to men who would meet him at a certain place. It is probable that the chief would, on some excuse or other, get rid of all his band but two or three, hand over the prisoner, and share the money only with those with him, and when the others returned, tell them that the prisoner had died and that they had buried him. Then the carabinieri would use every effort to kill those who were in the secret, and being in earnest for once, they probably did kill the chief and those with him.
“Probably the man who gave his evidence was not one of the party at all, but some prisoner charged with a minor offence, who was promised his liberty as the priceof telling the story that he was taught. If Leonard had been killed and buried, as they stated, his grave must surely have been found—the earth must still have been fresh; and, indeed, nothing is more unlikely than that the brigands should have taken any extraordinary trouble to hide the body, as they could not have anticipated that any vigorous search would be made for it. For these reasons I have all along believed that Leonard did not come to his end as was supposed. He may have been killed afterwards by those into whose hands he was delivered; but even this does not seem likely, for one of them might betray the secret for a large reward. He may have died in a dungeon, as so many thousands have done; but I believe firmly that he did not, as reported, die in the brigands’ hut. I have never since spoken on the subject to your mother, Frank, for I agreed with what she said, that it would be better to think of him as dead than in a dungeon, from which, as was shown in the case of your grandfather, there was no chance of releasing him. Now, however, if Garibaldi is successful, as every prison will be searched, and every political prisoner freed, there is a prospect that, if he is still alive, he may be restored to us.”
Frank, with the natural hope of youth, at once adopted the signora’s view; but his mother, although she admitted that it might possibly be true, still insisted that she would not permit herself to hope.
“It may be that God in His mercy will send him back to me; but, though I shall pray night and day that He will do so, it will be almost without hope that my prayer will be granted,—were I to hope, it would be like losing him again if he were not found. Now let us talk of other matters. The sooner you start thebetter, Frank; you will not have many preparations to make. The Garibaldian outfit is a simple one—a red shirt, trousers of any colour, but generally blue, a pair of gaiters and one of thick, serviceable boots, a wide-awake, or, in fact, any sort of cap with perhaps a red feather, a well-made blanket wound up and strapped over one shoulder like a scarf, a red sash for the waist, a cloak or great-coat strapped up and worn like a knapsack, and a spare shirt and a pair of trousers are all the outfit that you require. You had better take a good rifle with you, and of course a pair of pistols. All the clothes you can buy out there, and also a sword, for no doubt Garibaldi will put you on his staff.”
“In that case I shall not want the rifle, mother.”
“No; and if you do you can buy one there. In a town like Genoa there are sure to be shops where English rifles can be bought, and you might have difficulty in passing one through the customs—luggage is rigorously examined on the frontier and at the ports. A brace of pistols, however, would be natural enough, as any English traveller might take them for protection against brigands if he intended to go at all out of beaten tracks. As to the money, I shall go to the bank on Monday, and request them to give me bills on some firm in Genoa or Turin. Garibaldi will find no difficulty in getting them cashed. I should say that your best course will be to go through Paris and as far as the railway is made, then on by diligence over Mont Cenis to Turin, and after that by railway to Genoa. In that way you will get there in three or four days, whereas it would take you a fortnight by sea.”
“Then it seems to me, mother, that there is nothing at all for me to get before I start, except a brace ofpistols; but of course I must have my clothes up from Harrow.”
“I will write for them at once, Frank. It would be better that you should not go down—you would find it difficult to answer questions put to you as to why you are leaving; and of course this enterprise of Garibaldi must be kept a profound secret. One cannot be too prudent in a case like this, for if a whisper got abroad the Italian government would be compelled to stop him.”
“You will not see Beppo here when you come back,” Mrs. Percival said to Frank on Monday evening. “I gave him notice this afternoon.”
“What for, mother? Anyhow, I am not sorry, for I have never liked him.”
“I know that you have not, Frank, and I begin to think that you were right. My maid said to me this morning that, though she did not like to speak against a fellow-servant, she thought it right to tell me that when I am out of the house and before I get up of a morning he is often in the drawing-room and dining-room, in neither of which he has any business; and that when she went up yesterday evening—you know that she is a very quiet walker—she came upon him standing outside the drawing-room door when we were chatting together, and she thought, though of this she was not quite sure, that he had his ear at the keyhole. He knocked and came in the instant he saw her, as if he had only that moment arrived there; but she had caught sight of him before he saw her, and was certain that he was listening.
“Of course, she might have been mistaken; but thinking it over, it seems to me that she was probably right, for once or twice since he has been here, it has struck methat the papers in my cabinet were not in precisely the same order as I had left them. You know that I am very methodical about such matters; still, I might each time, when I took them out, have omitted to return them in exactly the same order as before, though I do not think it likely that I could have done so. However, I thought nothing of it at the time; but now that I hear that he has been spying about the rooms and listening at the door, I cannot but connect the two things together, and it may be that the man has been acting as an agent for the Neapolitan government. You know, when we were talking the matter over on Saturday, my mother suggested that it was possible that the courier had been in league with the brigands. Possibly he may also be an agent of the government; and there was so great a stir made at that time that I cannot regard it as impossible, knowing how she and I are heart and soul with the Italian patriots, that he was sent over to watch us.”
“I think it not only possible but probable,” Signora Forli put in. “I know that in Italy the police have spies in every household where they suspect the owner of holding liberal opinions; and knowing that our house was frequented by so many exiles, they may have very well placed this man here. I regret now that at the time this man came over at your mother’s request, we listened to his plausible tale and took him into our service, but I had not at that time any strong suspicions that the attack on your father was a preconcerted one, and I should hardly have mentioned the idea to your mother had it occurred to me. However, it is of no use thinking over that now; the great point is to consider how it will affect your plan.”
“In what way, signora?” Frank asked in surprise; and Mrs. Percival added, “I don’t see what you mean, mother.”
“I mean this, dear: if this man is a spy, you may be quite sure that he has had false keys made, by which he can open your cabinet, your drawers, and your writing-desk. It is quite probable that he knows Garibaldi’s handwriting, for, knowing that the general was a great friend of your father, he would almost certainly be furnished with a specimen of it; and, if that was the case, we may take it for granted that wherever you put any letter from Garibaldi, he would get at it and read it. That in itself can do comparatively little harm, for rumours of the general’s proposed expedition are already current. But he will know that, immediately on receipt of that letter, you sent for Frank. Doubtless there are other Neapolitan spies over here, and every movement you have made since will, in that case, have been watched, and you will have been seen to go to the bank to-day. It is not likely that they would know how much we have drawn out, for your conversation was with the manager in his private room; but knowing your devotion to Garibaldi’s cause, they might well suppose that the amount would be a considerable one. We have made no secret of the fact that Frank will start the day after to-morrow to travel in Italy for a time; and he will guess that Frank is the bearer of this money to Garibaldi—possibly, as it seems that he listened at the doors, he may even have heard you tell Frank how much you were going to send. Yesterday evening we were talking over how the bills had best be concealed, and he may have heard that also; if he did, you may be pretty sure that they will never reach Garibaldi, unless our plans for their concealment are changed.”
“You frighten me, mother.”
“I don’t know that there is anything to be frightened about,” the signora said. “I do not for a moment suppose that he contemplates any actual attack upon Frank; though he will, I am convinced, try to get the money—partly, no doubt, for its own sake, partly because its loss would be a serious blow to Garibaldi. After the disappearance of his grandfather, and the commotion there was over the death or disappearance of his father, an attack upon Frank would appear to be a sequel of these affairs, and would cause such general indignation that the ministry would take the matter up in earnest, and the result would be far more disastrous for the government of Naples than could be caused by any amount of money reaching Garibaldi, whom they must regard as an adventurer who could give them some trouble, but who could not hope for success. Therefore, I do not think that there is any danger whatever of personal injury to Frank; but I do think there is grave fear that the money will be stolen on the way. If our suspicions are well founded as to Beppo, no doubt two or three of these agents will travel with him. If he stops to sleep at an hotel, his room would be entered and his coat carried off; he may be chloroformed when in a train and searched from head to foot; his baggage may be stolen on the way, but that would only be the case if they do not find the bills on his person or where we agreed last night to hide them.”
“I dare not let him go,” Mrs. Percival said, in a trembling voice.
“Why, mother,” Frank said almost indignantly, “you don’t suppose, now that I am warned, I shall be fool enough to let these fellows get the best of me? I will carry a loaded pistol in each pocket; I will not sleep in an hotel from the time I start till I have handed thebills to Garibaldi, and will take care always to get into a carriage with several other passengers. If I hadn’t had fair warning, I dare say I should have been robbed; but I have no fear whatever on the subject now that we have a suspicion of what may occur. But if you think it would be safer, I do not see why you could not send the bills by post to an hotel at Genoa.”
Signora Forli shook her head. “That would not do,” she said. “You do not know what these Neapolitan spies are capable of. If they find that you have not the money with you, they would follow you to your hotel at Genoa, bribe the concierge there to hand over any letter that came addressed to you, or steal it from the rack where it would be placed, while his attention was turned elsewhere. However, I have an old friend at Genoa, the Countess of Mongolfiere; we exchange letters two or three times a year. She is, of course, a patriot. I will, if your mother agrees with me, enclose the bills in an envelope addressed to you, put that in another with a letter saying that you will call at her house when you arrive at Genoa, and request her to hand the letter to you. I will say that it vitally concerns the cause, and beg her to place it under lock and key in some safe receptacle until you arrive.”
“That is an excellent idea, mother,” Mrs. Percival said, “and would seem to meet the difficulty.”
Frank rose from his seat quietly, stepped noiselessly to the door, and suddenly threw it open. To his surprise his mother’s maid was sitting in a chair against it, knitting.
“It is all right, Hannah,” he said, as she started to her feet. “I did not know you were there. I thought that fellow might be listening again,” and he closed the door.
“I asked her to sit there this evening, Frank,” Mrs. Percival said. “I knew that we should be talking this matter over, and thought it better to take the precaution to ensure our not being overheard.”
“Quite right, mother; I am glad you did so. Then you think that that plan will answer?”
“Yes, I think so; but you must be sure and take care of yourself, just as if you had the money about you.”
“That I will, mother; you can rely upon that.”
“And above all,” Signora Forli said, “you must beware, when you go to the Countess for the money, that you take every possible precaution. Call in the daytime, go in a carriage and drive straight from her place to the Villa Spinola; better still, go first to Garibaldi, tell him where the money is, and ask him to send three of his officers to your hotel on the following morning. Then take a carriage, drive to the Countess’s, and take it to the general with four of you in the carriage. They would not dare to attack you in broad daylight.”
“That is an excellent plan,” Mrs. Percival said, in a tone of great relief. “Certainly, if they do manage to search him on the way, and find that he has not got the bills upon him, they will watch him closely at Genoa, where, no doubt, they will get the assistance of some of Francisco’s agents. There are sure to be plenty of them in Genoa at present; but however many of them there may be, they would not venture to attack in daylight four men driving along what is no doubt a frequented road, more especially as they would know that three of them were Garibaldi’s men, which is as much as to say desperate fellows, and who would, no doubt, like yourself, be armed with pistols.”
“We had better take one more precaution,” SignoraForli said. “It is believed that you are going to start on Thursday morning. Your packing can be done in five minutes; and I think that it would be a good plan for you to have everything ready to-night, and send Mary out for a hansom to-morrow morning, so that you could, when it comes up to the door, go straight down, get into it, and drive to the station. I don’t say that they might not be prepared for any sudden change of our plans; but at least it would give you a chance of getting a start of them that they can never recover—at any rate, not until you get to Paris.”
“How could they catch me there?” Frank said.
“Francisco’s agents here might telegraph to his agents in Paris, and they might be on the look-out for you when you arrived, and take the matter up. You were goingviâCalais. Let me look at the Bradshaw.”
“Yes,” she said, after examining its pages; “the train for the tidal boat leaves at the same time as the Dover train. If, when you get into the cab, you say out loud, ‘Victoria,’ so that Beppo may hear it, you can then, when once on your way, tell the cabman to take you to Charing Cross. In that way, if there is any one on the look-out when the Calais train comes in, they will be thrown altogether off the scent.”
“It seems ridiculous, all these precautions,” Frank said, with a laugh.
“My dear, no precautions are ridiculous when you have Francisco’s agents to deal with. Now, I will write my letter to the Countess at once, so that she may get it before your arrival there. You will, of course, go out and post it yourself.”