Behind the Throne
Page 20
to notice the cold, imperturbablemanner in which Mary always treated him. Mary had realised this longago, and for that reason now hesitated to tell her mother the truth.
Next morning, while she was puzzling over what excuse she could make togo to Rome, her mother came to her with an open letter in her hand,saying that her father had been called to Naples to be present at anofficial reception of King Humbert by that city, and would not return tothe Ministry for three days. This news caused Mary's heart to sinkwithin her, for she saw the uselessness of going to Rome until hereturned.
That day she avoided Dubard, making an excuse that she had a headache,and spending most of the time alone in her little boudoir. TheFrenchman took the other girls for an excursion through the woods, andduring his absence she entered the great old library and carefullyexamined the lock of the safe.
It showed no sign of having been tampered with, having evidently beenopened with its proper key--or an exact copy of it. The waste-paperbasket was empty, the maid having taken it away that morning; but theblotting-pad caught her eye, and she held it before the long old empiremirror and tried to read the impressions of the words he had copied.But in vain. One or two disjointed words in French she made out, butthey told her absolutely nothing. He had evidently made memoranda ofthe documents in French, or else the documents themselves had beenwritten in French.
She knew, by his actions on the previous night, that he intended toreturn and conclude his investigations, and a sudden idea occurred toher to thwart his plans. The real object of his search he hadapparently not discovered, therefore it was her duty to prevent him fromobtaining it, and yet at the same time remain secret and appear topossess no knowledge of his attempt. She reflected for some time howbest to accomplish this, when at last a mode essentially femininesuggested itself--one which she hoped would be effective.
Again she crossed to that huge green-painted safe let into the wall,which contained her father's secrets--and many of the military secretsof the kingdom of Italy--and taking a hairpin from her tightly boundtresses--always the most handy feminine object--she broke off a piece ofthe wire about an inch long, which she carefully inserted in thekeyhole, poking it well in by means of the other portion of the pinuntil she heard it fall with a click into the delicate mechanism of thelock.
Then, smiling to herself, she withdrew, knowing that whatever attemptDubard now made to reopen that door would be without avail. There wasnothing to show that anyone had interfered with the mechanism, thereforehe would be entirely unsuspecting, and would attribute the non-workingto some defect in the lock itself, or in the key.
That night she sat next him at dinner, bearing herself as bravely brightand vivacious as ever, and determined that his suspicions should not bearoused; while he, on his part, thought her more charming than ever.
The evening passed as usual in the small drawing-room with music andgossip, and later, after all had retired and one o'clock had struck,Mary crept out in the darkness to the library, where, sure enough, shesaw, on peering through the keyhole, the man who was so cleverlycourting her actively trying to open the safe door.
The key would only half turn, and in French he muttered some low wordsof chagrin and despair. He tried and tried, and tried again, but all tono purpose. He withdrew the key, blew into the barrel, examined it inthe light, and then tried once more.
But the lock had become jammed, and neither by force nor by lightmanoeuvring could he turn the key sufficiently to shoot back the hugeshining bolts that held the door on every side.
Mary's effort had been successful. By that tiny piece of wire herfather's secrets were held in safety.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
"My dear child, you really must have been dreaming, walking in yoursleep!" declared Camillo Morini, looking at his daughter and laughingforcedly.
"I was not, father!" she declared very seriously. "I saw the man takeout those bundles of papers I helped you to tie up."
"But the key! There was only one made, and you know where it is. Yousaw me do away with it."
"He has a duplicate."
The Minister of War shook his head dubiously. What his daughter hadtold him about Jules Dubard was utterly inconceivable. He could notbelieve her. Truth to tell, he half believed that she had invented thestory as an excuse against her engagement to him. Though so clever andfar-seeing as a politician he was often unsuspicious of his enemies.Good-nature was his fault. He believed ill of nobody, and moreespecially of a man like Dubard, who had already shown himself a friendin several ways, and had rendered him a number of important services.
"And you say that you put a piece of your hairpin in the lock, and thatprevented him reopening it on the second night?"
"Yes. Had it not been for that he would have made a completeexamination of everything," she said. "If he had done so, would he havediscovered much of importance?"
His Excellency hesitated, and his grey brows contracted.
"Yes, Mary," he answered, after a brief pause. "He would. There aresecrets there--secrets which if revealed might imperil the safety ofItaly."
"And they are in your keeping?"
"They are in my keeping as Minister of War."
"And some of them affect you--personally? Tell me the truth," sheurged, her gloved hand laid upon the edge of the table.
"They affect me both as Minister and as a loyal subject of His Majesty,"was His Excellency's response, his face growing a trifle paler.
If the truths contained within that safe really leaked out, the result,he knew, would be irretrievable ruin. Even the contemplation of such acatastrophe caused him to hold his breath.
"Then I assure you, father, that nearly half the documents within havebeen carefully and methodically examined by this man who poses as yourfriend."
"And to tell you the truth, dear, I cannot credit it. He can have nokey that would open the door, unless he recovered it from the Arno--which is not likely. They never dredge that part, for it is too deep.Besides, that portion of the river is my own property, and before itcould be dredged they would have to give me notice."
"But a duplicate--could he not possess one?"
"Impossible. That safe was specially manufactured in London for me, andis one of the strongest ever constructed. I had it made specially oftreble strength which will resist any drill or wedge--even dynamitewould only break the lock and leave the bolts shot. The only manner itcould be forced without the key would be to place it in a furnace orapply electrical heat, which would cause the steel to give. The makersspecially designed it so that no second key could ever be fitted."
"Then you disbelieve me?" she said, looking into her father's face.
"No, I don't actually disbelieve you, my dear," he responded, placinghis hand tenderly upon hers; "only the whole affair seems so absolutelyincredible."
"Everything is credible in the present situation," she said, and thenwent on to relate what Dubard had told her regarding the conspiracy ofthe Socialists, who intended to hound the Ministry from office.
She was seated in her father's private cabinet at the Ministry of War,in the large leather-covered chair opposite his big littered table, thechair in which sat so many high officials day after day discussing themilitary matters of the Italian nation. The double doors were closed,as they always were, against eavesdroppers.
She had, at her own request, managed to have a telegram sent her by him,and with Teresa had arrived in Rome only an hour ago. She had drivenstraight to the Ministry, and on her arrival Morini had quicklydismissed the general commanding in Sicily, to whom at that moment hewas giving audience.
The story his daughter had related seemed utterly incredible. He knewfrom Ricci of the deep plot against him, but that the safe should reallyhave been opened, and by Dubard of all men, staggered belief. That waswhy, in his astonishment, he declared that she must have been dreaming.
But in a few moments he became convinced, by her manner, that it was nodream, but an actu
al fact. Dubard, who had shown himself a friend, hadactually pried into what was hidden from all. Why?
What had he discovered? That was the question.
Mary told him of the memoranda, and of the impressions upon theblotting-pad, whereupon he exclaimed quickly--
"I'll send someone up to San Donato to-night to bring the blotting-padhere. Granati, the handwriting expert, shall examine it." Then after abrief pause, he bent towards her, saying, "You do not believe that hereally discovered what he was in search of?"
"No; he seemed disappointed."
His Excellency heaved a sigh of relief. If Jules Dubard really hadopened the safe, then he feared too well the reason--the motive of thesearch was plain enough to him.
His teeth set themselves hard, his face blanched at thought of it; andhe brushed the scanty grey hair from his forehead with his