The Princess Galva: A Romance

by David Whitelaw

  CHAPTER X

  THREE HANDS AT POKER

  "I remember seeing in a Club I visited last year in Buda, some framedhands of cards--remarkable hands that had occurred in the play there.It is a pretty custom. I have often since wished to start a similarcollection. Permit me."

  And Senor Gabriel Dasso screwed a monocle into a cold and calculatingeye and crossed over to the card table.

  "May I take them?--thanks. Most extraordinary. And how much did youwin, Lieutenant Mozara, on your four kings?"

  The young officer addressed nicked the ash from his cigarette andglanced carelessly over the pile of notes and gold before him.

  "Oh, about four hundred crowns--thereabouts," he answered carelessly.

  "Then the fair Julie of the _Casino_ has a rosy future before herfor--shall we say nearly a week?"

  At this a laugh came from the Lieutenant's two opponents, and Dassocontinued, gathering up the cards as he spoke--

  "You're sure, gentlemen, you don't mind. I'll have them framed with alittle brass plate with all the particulars. Let me see, Count, you,was it not, who held the full house, aces high too--and you, CaptainOlalla, the flush--am I right?"

  He went over to where a handsome inlaid writing table stood near thewindow and returned with three envelopes. The players watched idlywhilst he put five cards into each; afterwards placing the three in alarger envelope, which latter he stuck down. Then, taking a tinyfountain pen from the pocket of his white vest, he wrote:--

  _Three hands at Poker, held by Count Petola, Captain Olalla, andLieutenant Mozara--Friday the fifteenth of January_ 1908.

  "Many thanks, gentlemen, and a thousand apologies for interrupting yourgame."

  Senor Dasso returned to his position by the fire, one arm resting onthe high mantleboard and letting his monocle fall with a little tinkleagainst his shirt front. The men at the table tore open another packof cards and resumed their game.

  But it was late, and the play became desultory. Following such anexciting hand, the cards ran badly, and after the next "jackpot" theCount and Captain Olalla took their leave.

  Lieutenant Mozara carried his glass over and joined Dasso, who stillmaintained his position by the fireplace. He made way for the youngerman, and--

  "A good evening's play, eh, Mozara?"

  "So so, but I say, Dasso, was it hardly playing the game to drag Julieinto it? I don't like being laughed at."

  "Oh, a little chaff is the least one has to pay for one's gallantries."

  "I expect you did the same, at my age."

  Senor Dasso turned and contemplated his handsome face with itsiron-grey imperial in the pier-glass before replying.

  "Worse, my dear boy, far worse. San Pietro was not then what it isnow, but Paris was--Paris--and so was Vienna."

  There was silence for a moment, and it was Mozara who first broke it.

  "Rather childish isn't it--to keep those cards? They weren't sowonderful, after all; you'll see better at the Club almost any night."

  "Possibly--but not so _interesting_."

  Something in the elder man's voice made the other look up sharply. Hiseyes narrowed in his head.

  "What do you mean, Dasso--more interesting?"

  For answer, Senor Dasso drew up a little table in front of the fire,and taking the envelope from his pocket, handed his fountain pen to theLieutenant.

  "I don't understand this, Senor."

  "It means, my dear lieutenant, that the record I have written is notyet complete. You will finish it to my dictation."

  "If this is a joke, Senor----"

  "Pardon me, it is no joke. You will write at my dictation."

  "I'm damned if I will--you forget, Senor Dasso, that you----"

  "I forget nothing. I know that I am a guest in your uncle's house.Senor Luazo is the soul of honour, and his sister's child should--butnever mind. Again I say you will write at my dictation--or you willblow out your brains here and now--Oh, no, you don't."

  For with a snarling sound the young man had made a dash at the packet,but before it could reach the flames a hand closed like steel over hiswrist.

  "You understand me now--eh?"

  "Yes, damn you, I understand that you, a guest of my uncle's, dares tospy upon me. I understand that."

  "Is there, then, so little difference between a spy and--a cheat?"

  Lieutenant Mozara sank into a chair and covered his face with his handsfor a moment, then he reached out for the pen.

  "What is it you want me to write?"

  The other thought for a moment, drumming his fingers upon the polishedsurface of the little table. "How does it end--yes--'_on the fifteenthof January_ 1908,' now add--'_The hands were dealt by me, GasparMozara. The cards were provided by me--and I won four hundred crowns.God be merciful to me a sinner_.'"

  With an oath the young man rose, throwing over the table in hisagitation.

  "I'll see you in he----"

  He stopped and gave a little cry as he saw the shining barrel of asmall revolver pointed at him.

  "You--you would murder me, then?"

  "Morally, yes, but not physically unless you drive me to it. I wouldsay you shot yourself at being found out. This," and he tapped thelittle package, "would prove everything; marked cards are the finest ofevidence."

  Then the boy--he was hardly more--was on his knees. "Why are you doingthis, Senor Dasso?" he pleaded. "Before God it's the first time. Youknew my mother--I've never harmed you. I will return the moneyto-morrow. I--I--wanted it for Julie."

  "Yes, I know that, bless her. It isn't the first time that a woman hasplayed my game for me. There is no mercy in ambition, and _I wantyou_. I can make use of you. Oh, your secret is safe with me,provided you write as I say."

  "And place my honour and my life in your hands for ever."

  "Precisely, that is all I want."

  Tremblingly the boy looked past the muzzle to the steady hand and up tothe cruel, thin face. Then he righted the table, and whilst Dasso heldthe package he wrote.

  "And your seal," said his tormentor, when the lieutenant had signed hisname, and he fetched a stick of black wax from the writing table. Thenafter Mozara had sealed it with his signet ring, Dasso placed theenvelope in his pocket and leant back with a half smile.

  "And now, my dear lieutenant, for my motive. Believe me I like you,and I have no personal objection to your method of playing poker. Ican be frank with you now that I have this," and he tapped the pocketover the cards.

  "You know what they say here in Corbo, that it was I who engineered theaffair of fifteen years ago. They even hint that I took an active partin the doings at the palace on that night. Well, they are not farwrong. It was I who did the majority of the work, seeing that myfollowers faltered at the last moment. I had too much at stake to riskfailure. I had worked hard, believing that the choice of the peoplewould fall on me, failing a direct heir. It did; I was made Dictator,and for a few brief weeks I tasted the fruits of power.

  "But Spain was stronger than I, and my crime--my political crime--wentfor nothing. Enrico was placed where I would sit, and now he is atlast paying the penalty of his licentious and foolish mode of life.The King is dying."

  For a moment the lieutenant was interested in spite of himself.

  "But his nephew will----"

  Senor Dasso rose and snapped his fingers.

  "That for him. What do the people think or even know of him, a man whohas hardly been seen by them, a man who hates San Pietro and all init--including his uncle? I understand he is in Africa shooting lionsat this present moment. When he hears of his uncle's death it will betoo late."

  "But Spain?"

  "Spain has her own troubles now, and I have information that a littlediplomacy is all that is needed. It is my hour and I will want help--Iwill want dirty work done. To-night I saw my chance when I noticedthat your cards were marked. I took it, as I take all chances."

  "What is it you want of me?"

  "There w
ill be many things. First I want you to watch and tell me allabout these English people, Miss Bax--Baxendale and her Mr. Sydney. Iwant you to----"

  "I will not play the spy in my uncle's house--he has been a father tome--more than a father."

  "But you _play_--in your uncle's house--how you play is known only toyou and me--so far. It's not much I'm asking of you, but much orlittle you'll have to do it. They visit here a great deal, and yourtask will be easy--and I'll help you with Julie. Half-past one; I'llgo now--you'll remember."

  Gabriel Dasso descended the broad stairway of Senor Luazo's mansion,and was helped into his sable overcoat by the sleepy man-servant at thedoor. In the courtyard his motor was waiting, but instructing thechauffeur to keep him in sight Dasso turned up the collar of his coatand stepped out briskly.

  It was a lovely night, and the Bay of Lucana gleamed silver beneath themoon. The boulevard that terraced above the beach lay white under thecold glare of the arc lamps which threw a delicate tracery of shadowfrom the acacia trees.

  The town of Corbo was built on a cliff, or rather a series of littlecliffs that rose in terraces, upon the highest of which stood the royalpalace. Under the gay reign of Enrico I, Corbo had prosperedexceedingly, and there was but little remaining of the old and quainttown of a decade ago. Modern hotels, rivalling the palace in splendourand far exceeding it in comfort, lined the lower boulevard, and theCasino lying back in its palm gardens had been erected by a syndicateof Russian Jews and had cost a fabulous amount of money.

  The lights were still blazing from its myriad windows as Senor Dassomade his way along the broad pavement, followed at a respectfuldistance by his car. There was a slight wind off-shore and littlebursts of melody came to him at intervals, of a popular waltz played bya string band.

  For perhaps half-an-hour the man continued to walk up and down, hischin sunk deep in his collar, then he raised his hand and the watchingchauffeur slid noiselessly up to him.

  Leaving the lighted thoroughfare the car made its way to the easternend of the town, which lay in darkness. It was here, in a part thatstill contained some of the buildings of the old town, that Dasso'shome lay. It was a large mediaeval-looking structure, more of a castlethan a house. When first it had been erected it stood alone, but withthe growth of the town it had been surrounded, and portions of itsgrounds taken in till now it had the appearance of a giant beingelbowed and crowded out by pigmies.

  Before the massive old gateway the car drew up, and at the sound of thebrakes the oak doors opened. Senor Dasso passed in between the twofootmen, one of whom relieved him of his coat and hat, whilst the othershot home the great bolts behind him.

  "I'll want nothing more," he said shortly, and crossing the hallentered a room on the left. On the table stood a decanter and asyphon. He mixed himself a drink, then selecting a key from the bunchon his chain inserted it in the lock of a small but massive safe thatwas let into the wall by the fireplace. He took from it a portfolio ofblack leather, and, seating himself near the lights of a branchcandelabra, unfastened the little strap.

  It contained a varied assortment of papers, and Dasso ran through themhurriedly until he came to a card bearing a photograph. This he heldclose to the light and scanned narrowly.

  He saw an old silver print of a young and beautiful woman in royalrobes. Tall, and of a commanding carriage that savoured somewhat ofarrogance, the late Queen of San Pietro looked out from the fadedpicture. For some minutes Senor Dasso gazed at the eyes, looking awaynow and again as though conjuring up some picture to his mind. Then hespoke murmuringly to himself, his eyes fixed on the portrait he held inhis hand.

  "I who knew you better than the others--_I who saw you last ofall_--can perhaps see more than the others now. Yes, Queen Elene, youreyes have looked at me again to-night--in the flesh"--he laughedshortly--"but I did not flinch, Elene; the nerves of Gabriel Dasso areas firm to-day as they were fifteen years ago."

  For a little while longer he looked, a half smile curling his cruelmouth, then he replaced the photograph in the portfolio, putting withit the three poker hands of Lieutenant Mozara, and again locked it inthe safe.

  Then taking the candelabra, he ascended the wide oak staircase to hischamber.