Consent being given, he went over to his wife, knelt down in front of her and pinned up the white satin just high enough to show her white shod feet. Having warned them that they must be patient as it would take some time for him to concentrate his will to the degree needed to lift her by it, he stepped back a few feet, halted and began to make passes at her.
As in the afternoon, she jerked and rolled her head for some minutes, then stiffened and relaxed. Having put her under he stopped making passes and, with his hands hanging at his sides, stood, a dim bulky figure, staring fixedly at her. It was now that his audience had to exercise their patience. The long minutes dragged by five, ten, fifteen, twenty while they sat straining their eyes in the semi-darkness; but nothing happened. It began to look as if there was to be no trick after all, but that it was a genuine attempt, and this long sustained effort of concentration must soon exhaust him; so that he would have to give up and confess failure. Yet his breathing was not laboured, and he gave no other sign of fatigue, but continued to stand absolutely motionless.
Suddenly he threw up both his hands, in a lifting gesture.
Her hands were on the arms of the elbow chair in which she was sitting. Although Roger could only see their outline vaguely he got the impression that she levered herself up by them. Slowly she rose and her hands left the arms of the chair. Someone drew in a sharp breath. As her figure straightened it was apparent to them all that she had become much taller than her normal height, then that her feet had left the floor.
Malderini began to back slowly away from her, gesturing with his hands as though to draw her towards him. Slowly she began to advance along the chalk line. As they watched her they held their breath. Her body remained rigid, but her feet moved slightly in a slow regular progression, as though she was taking tiny steps through the air.
She covered more than half the stipulated distance and came opposite Colonel Thursby. At that moment a loud clatter shattered the silence of the room. The Princess threw out her arms and gave a piercing scream. Then pandemonium broke out.
The ebony walking stick the Colonel always carried had a crooked ivory handle. He had reversed it, leant forward, swept its crook along the floor below the Princess' feet and, when it met resistance, jerked it hard towards him. Pitching forwards, she crashed full length on the parquet.
Next second Droopy Ned played his part in this little plot that had been hatched between them after Roger had left the dining-room. He scratched the top of a pocket tinder-box with a three-inch magnesium flare and held it aloft. Instantly the darkness of the room was dissipated and everything in it could be seen with almost blinding clarity.
As the Princess fell, her tight sari had rucked up exposing both her legs to the knees. She was wearing calf-length white kid boots, and to the inner side of her legs short, cloth-tipped black stilts were strapped. It was now obvious that Malderini must have adjusted them under her insteps when pinning up her sari and that, had she reached the chair at the far end of her walk, he would have removed her feet from them while unpinning her sari, without anyone being the wiser.
When the fierce light of the flare revealed the scene, Roger found himself staring straight at the Venetian. His face was contorted with insane, diabolical rage. Next moment, howling like an animal, he flung himself at the Colonel. Everyone sprang to their feet, chairs were overturned, the women screamed. The flare went out, plunging the room again in darkness.
There was a short noisy scuffle. Voices were, crying: Lights! Open the door! Lights! Bring lights!'
Droopy Ned ran to the drawing-room door and wrenched it open. Enough light came through to reveal the scene. Georgina and Clarissa had run forward and were helping the Princess to her feet. Esther Sheridan had flung herself onto her husband's bosom. Beckford had seized Malderini by the coat collar just in time to prevent him assaulting Colonel Thursby. The Colonel, now leaning heavily on his stick, was standing looking at him, a derisive smile on his thin face.
The door had been open only a moment when the Venetian broke free from Beckford's hold and, mouthing curses, again threw himself at the Colonel. Roger was some feet away. In his anxiety to protect the elderly man whom he looked on as a father, he made an awkward jump between them. He was still off balance as Malderini struck out. The blow caught him in. the face. He went over backwards and fell with a crash among the chairs.
By the time he had scrambled to his feet, Beckford had again got hold of Malderini and now held him in a firmer grip. Roger, with one hand to his bruised face, and his blue eyes blazing, snapped out:…
'Damn you, Sir! You shall give me satisfaction for that!'
With Clarissa's help, Georgina had got the Princess up into a chair. Turning from her, she cried, 'Roger, I pray you let this shocking business go no further!'
Ignoring Georgina, he continued to scowl at Malderini. But the Venetian had now begun to sob with frustrated rage and, between his sobs, gasped out to the Colonel:
'That was a brutal thing to do. Oh, you horrible man! The shock might have killed her. And you ruined my illusion. I suppose you expect me to pay. But I won't! I won't! Why should I, when I should have won had it not been for your interference?'
'You will, unless you wish me to have you barred out of every club in London,' replied the Colonel tartly.
'And you will give me satisfaction for that blow,' added Roger, 'unless you prefer to taste my horse-whip about your shoulders.'
Georgina had come up. Catching him by the elbow she pulled him round to face her and said in a firm voice, 'This matter is deplorable enough already. I'll allow no duel to be fought about it. You'll oblige me, Mr. Brook, by retiring from the room.'
Stepping back, he made her a leg and replied at once, 'Your Ladyship's servant.' But he did not attempt to lower his voice as he said to Droopy a moment later, 'Be good enough, Ned, to act for me and arrange a meeting.' Then he stalked through the door that gave on to the corridor.
Malderini had, meanwhile, staggered back to a chair and collapsed into it. He was now breathing heavily and, after a moment, muttered thickly, 'Send for Pietro… send for Pietro… Tell him.,. tell him to bring my pills.'
Sheridan came forward and said quickly, 'Excitement has brought on one of his attacks. He has them occasionally but they are no matter for grave concern. Pietro is his valet, and gives him massage for them. If we can find Pietro, he'll be as right as rain again in half an hour.'
'Clarissa!' Georgina cried. 'Run please; run to the servants' quarters and fetch Signor Malderini's man.'
Clutching her wide skirts with both hands, and lifting them some inches, Clarissa ran from the room. Beckford had just brought in the Dresden candelabra from the drawing-room and set it on the chimney piece; so there was now more light to see by. Malderini's pudgy face had gone grey; his eyes were closed and his breath came with a rasping noise. His wife made no attempt to approach him. Apparently she had not been seriously hurt by her fall, as she sat quite silent. But her head was bowed and with one hand she was holding the end of the sari, which she usually wore over the top of her head, across her face, as though too ashamed to meet the gaze of her hostess and her fellow guests.
After an uneasy few minutes, the sound of running footsteps came again. Well ahead of Clarissa, Pietro erupted into the room. He was a tall, thin, bony middle-aged man with a shock of black hair. Showing scant ceremony as they made way for him, he ran to his master, fell on his knees before him, and began to babble excitedly in Italian. Malderini muttered something and Pietro thrust a pill into his mouth, then began to chafe his hands.
The Venetian's breathing eased and his eyes opened. For a while he remained seated, then he got to his feet. The tall Pietro stooped and drew one of his master's arms across his shoulders, so that he could support him as he walked. With no word said they crossed the room. Beneath the end of her sari, the Princess had evidently been watching them, for she rose too, and followed. Instinctively the ladies dropped her curtseys and the m
en bowed as she passed.
Roger, meanwhile, had gone to the dining-room and helped himself to a glass of port. He was, for once, in an exceedingly ill humour, as he loathed being involved in quarrels; yet he saw no way but of this one, which had risen so unexpectedly, Malderini had knocked him down, and that was a matter which no gentleman could ignore with honour. Even an apology could not settle such a case. It demanded that either he must meet the Venetian with weapons or, if he proved a poltroon, horse-whip him. Being an exceptionally fine swordsman and a first-class pistol shot, Roger had no qualms about the outcome of such an encounter; but he felt that, owing to Malderini's now being the accredited envoy of the Serene Republic, the affair was liable to cause the most troublesome repercussions. Gloomily, he finished his wine and, anticipating that the others would by now have congregated in the large drawing-room, decided to join them there.
As he came out into the hall, he saw Malderini being helped up the stairs by his valet. They were about a third of the way' up the flight and, their backs being towards him, neither of them caught sight of him. But the Princess, who was following them, had reached only the bottom stair. As he emerged from the dining-room, she turned and her dark eyes held his for a moment.
He had very little doubt that her husband had forced her to play the part she had in the deception; so he felt deeply sorry for her. With a view to expressing his sympathy, he made her a much deeper bow than he would have normally, As he raised his head, he expected her to incline hers, then pass on up the stairs; but she did neither. Instead, she remained poised on the bottom stair, her glance searching his face intently.
It seemed pointless to address her, as he could not expect her to understand him; so he simply stood there returning her solemn gaze. For a few moments neither of them moved, then she looked away from him and up the stairs. Malderini and Pietro had just reached the landing; so they were now out of earshot. Her big almond shaped eyes switched back to Roger.
Suddenly she spoke in a deep low voice. And she spoke in heavily accented, but perfectly clear, English 'You will fight him. You must kill him. He is evil; utterly evil. Have care not to look in his eyes. But kill him! Kill him!'
Chapter 5
The Duel
Before Roger could reply, she had turned away and was running up the stairs as swiftly as her sari would permit. His expression of astonishment gave way to a cynical little smile. Since she spoke English he had no doubt now that she also spoke Italian, French and German. As he had thought possible in the afternoon demonstration, when Malderini had appeared to be reading out the questions, he had actually been giving her their answers. His sending Clarissa to sleep by a few passes proved him to be a competent hypnotist, but all the miracles he claimed to work were fakes.
From their recent encounter, Roger judged that Malderini's wife was his unwilling tool, and did as she was ordered only through acute fear of him or, perhaps, because she lived for the greater part of the time subject to his hypnotic domination. If the latter were the case, the inference was that his semi-collapse had enabled her temporarily to escape from it. After a moment's thought he decided to refrain, for the time being, from disclosing that she had spoken to him. Then he crossed the hall and entered the long drawing-room.
It was still early and Georgina, in a determined attempt to restore a normal atmosphere, had endeavoured to organise a round game. But Droopy and Sheridan had both asked to be excused and her father had gone up to his own rooms; so she had had to make the best of sitting down to a game of ombre with Beckford, Esther and Clarissa.
The first hand was being dealt as Roger came in and, giving only a glance at the group seated round the card table, he joined Droopy and Sheridan, who were talking in low voices in a corner.
'He'll fight.' Sheridan was saying, as Roger came up. 'He must; he has no alternative.'
'But is he in a fit state to do so?' Roger asked. 'I saw him a few minutes back being half carried up the staircase by his man,'
Sheridan shrugged. 'He is suffering only from a temporary indisposition. I've seen him in a similar state on two previous occasions, and on both he has re-appeared looking as strong as a horse in the morning.'
'Then, if his health permits, he must give me satisfaction,* Roger declared firmly.
'We'll give him half-an-hour to recover himself; then I will go up and see him,' Sheridan volunteered, 'The odds are that he'll ask me to be his second. If so, in the circumstances, I can hardly refuse.'
'In that case it will be for you and me to make the arrangements," said Droopy. 'Mr. Brook has already asked me to act for him.'
Sheridan bowed. 'Charmed, m'Lord. I can think of no one with whom I should be happier to settle the formalities. And now, gentlemen, I suggest we leave this painful subject and kill time by taking a glass of wine together.'
The three men walked quietly through to the dining-room, collected a decanter of wine and glasses, and took them to the library. For a good half-hour they sat there talking mainly about Sheridan's theatrical activities; then he left them to go upstairs.
He was away for about twenty minutes and, when he rejoined them, said at once, 'Malderini is already quite recovered, and he says that if you insist upon it he will fight.'
'I do,' Roger replied, standing up. 'And I'll withdraw now so that you can discuss details. The Colonel never seeks his bed before midnight, so I'll go up to his room. You'll find me there, Ned, when you're in a position to tell me what has been settled.'
Colonel Thursby's private sitting-room held many indications of the way in which he had made his considerable fortune. There were models of machines that he had either invented or improved, and maps of the great canal system that he had aided the Duke of Bridgewater to plan, and most of the books on his shelves were works on engineering. There was also, beside the mantel, a rack holding a row of long-stemmed clay pipes, and the Colonel was puffing quietly at one.
Roger was not an addict of the weed, but he enjoyed an occasional pipe with Georgina's father; so, while he told him how things were moving, he took down the churchwarden that had his initials on it and began to fill it from the Colonel's tobacco jar.
The Colonel nodded. 'So Dick Sheridan and Lord Edward are arranging a meeting. Well, we can only hope that no harm comes to you from it.'
'As I am the challenger, the choice of weapons lies with him,' Roger replied. 'But either way, I don't think you need be greatly concerned about me. If it be swords I have little to fear. He must be at least fifteen years older than myself, and he is anything but an agile man; so I doubt not I'd make rings round him. With pistols, too, the odds should be in my favour. Unless he's an expert marksman, I'd wing him before he gets a bead on me.'
'I hope that he choose swords. A duel with pistols is always a chancy matter. Even a man who has never fired one in his life may score a lucky hit; and if you were seriously injured, I should be distressed beyond measure. The more so as it was my act in exposing his trickery, and then you protecting me from his assault, which have led to this.'
'I pray you don't give that another thought, Sir. You had every right to unmask the rogue, and no one could have foreseen that he would knock me down.' Roger drew the flame from a taper onto the tobacco in his pipe, then added, 'Frankly, though, I'd give a lot for this imbroglio to have taken some other turn, so that I'd not been forced to challenge him.'
'Since he struck you in the face, you had no option.'
'That's just the rub; and why, though I doubt his doing so, I hope he will choose swords. As I told you at breakfast, Georgina asked him here at my request, that I might have a prospect of winning him over to Mr. Pitt's interest. Were I still saddled with that I'd be in an unholy mess. But by a stroke of good fortune, later in the morning I received a despatch from Downing Street relieving me of further responsibility in the matter. Even so, should I chance to lay him low for some weeks with a pistol bullet, that would sadly prejudice the negotiations he is about to open with the
Foreign Office. If, on the other hand, we fight with swords, I'll almost certainly be able to disarm him, or, at worst, give him a slight jab in the sword arm. Then there'd be no fear of regrettable repercussions afterwards.'
For some half-hour they talked on, but in a lighter vein, then Droopy Ned joined them. Peering with his short-sighted eyes at Roger, he said:
Tis to be at six o'clock tomorrow morning by the little temple on the far side of the lake. I fear, though, you may be somewhat disconcerted by his choice of weapons. He has chosen pikes.'
'Strap me!' exclaimed Roger. 'You can't be serious, Ned.
Droopy nodded. 'I am. Sheridan did his utmost to persuade him to accept more orthodox weapons, but he said that, being a studious and peaceable man by nature, he had never used a sword, and that an astigmatism of the eyes prevents him from shooting straight. He can hardly be blamed for selecting a weapon which will make the chances between you more even, and I did not feel that I had sound grounds for standing out against it.'
'No… no; I suppose not. But pikes, Ned! Where will we get them?'
'There are a score or more to choose from among the arms that decorate the walls of the billiards room.'
'So be it, then. What about a doctor?'
'Knowing Dr. Chudleigh to be the household leech here, I've sent a note down to the village requesting him to attend upon us. Beckford refused to act with Sheridan as the Venetian's other second; so the groom who is carrying my note to Dr. Chudleigh also bears one from Sheridan to Major Rawtort at the Red House. I gather the Major is a fire-eater of the first water, so the odds on him refusing Sheridan's request are negligible. It remains only for you to provide yourself with another second.'
Roger turned to the Colonel. 'If you would honour me, Sir?*
'Certainly, my dear boy,' came the prompt response. 'Did I have to wait here to learn the outcome of this meeting, I'd be consumed with anxiety; now at least I'll learn it the moment It becomes apparent.'
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