CHAPTER IV.
HUNSTON'S ADVENTURE—MOLE IN A MAZE—HE MEETS AN EVIL SPIRIT—GROSS
OUTRAGE ON HIS WOODEN LEGS—MATHIAS IN TROUBLE-THE ASSASSIN'S KNIFE.
Quasimodo, who had detected one of the devils, was Magog Brand.
The audacity of the fearless Greek had carried him through so far, but Quasimodo had spoilt him at last.
A number of gentlemen in the company began to inquire very minutely into the affair.
Prominent amongst them was Harkaway.
He and Jefferson, prompt to act as ever, inquired into the circumstances of this gross outrage, and then it was elicited that the depredator was seen last in diabolical costume.
"A devil!" ejaculated one of the company. "Of course, I saw the man myself."
"I too," said another.
"Yes, he wore a red feather in his high-crowned hat."
"No," said another; "a feather, it is true, but the feather was green, I am sure."
Upon this, Magog Brand came forward.
"I saw it all done," he said. "I saw the man who did it"
"What, rob the contessa?"
"Yes, and as soon as I saw what It meant, I gave the alarm; but the devil disappeared like greased lightning."
"There!" exclaimed half a dozen at once, "I said it was the devil."
"Yes," added one of the guests, eagerly. "What coloured feather had he?"
"Red," ejaculated another, immediately.
"Green," retorted the opposite faction, loudly, but Magog Brand said—
"It was neither red nor green," said he, "but a bright yellow."
Now, while this inquiry was being proceeded with, nobody happened to observe one singular circumstance.
That was the presence, the whole of the time, in the motley-coloured crowd, of one of the diabolical trio in question.
This very devil no sooner heard the question raised about the coloured feathers in their head gear, than he doffed his hat unperceived and pulled out the feather.
And then, as the controversy grew warmer, he sneaked off.
He made all possible haste for the garden gate.
Once here he was about to rush through, when he was accosted by two men, whose uniform gave him an unpleasant twinge.
They were gendarmes.
"You cannot leave the ground yet, sir," said one of them sharply.
"I don't wish to," replied the devil, promptly. "I come to bring you orders."
"I beg your pardon," said the gendarme.
"A robbery has been committed."
"Yes, sir."
"That is the reason you have had your orders to guard the gate. Oh, you know it. Well, what you don't know is that the robbery is supposed to have been committed by a masker dressed as I am. Take particular note of my dress."
"Yes, sir."
The gendarme grinned as he said this.
"Keep your eyes open. These are the contessa's particular orders."
"Trust me, sir."
"There is a reward if you capture the thief."
The gendarme laughed at this, and said, with an air of self-confidence—"I think I shall get him."
The merry devil slapped the gendarme upon the back heartily.
"You are the sort of man for my money."
Saying which, he turned and left the spot.
Making his way to a place in the grounds previously agreed upon, he ran across the brigand Matteo armed with a change of dress for him.
The spot selected was up one of the narrowest alleys in the grounds, at the end of which was a species of Hampton Court maze in miniature.
Just as the diabolical one was about to divest himself of half of his skin, Matteo gave the alarm.
"The devil!" ejaculated the masker, which was, perhaps, the most natural exclamation he could make, all things considered. "What can this be? Somebody watched me here."
He waited a minute or so in anxiety.
An unsteady footfall was heard upon the gravel walk, and a man in a cloak came staggering along.
"They may call this a grand fête if they like," he mumbled. "I call it a shabby affair. Why, there's not a respectable drink in the place. The lucky thing is that I have provided my own."
He had a bottle with him, and he sucked at it from time to time as he staggered on, until all of a sudden he ran on to the alarmed masker, who was growing impatient to change his garments.
The staggering one looked up, and seeing such an alarming figure towering over him, he gave a wild howl and fled.
"The devil! the devil!" he shouted wildly. "Help! help!"
"Stop that fool, Matteo, or he will bring the whole house down about our ears."
Matteo seized the merrymaker, and was about to make short work with him, when his superior held his hand.
"Put by your knife," he said; "not that. Hold him tight and threaten him; but no knife."
But for this timely interference, it would have gone hard with the unfortunate new-comer, who was our old friend Mole.
Mole, it should be noted, had been compelled to change his cork legs, on which he could scarcely stand, for his old, familiar stumps, which Harvey had brought with him in case any accident should occur.
"Forgive me, Mr. Devil," he implored, in drunken tones, "oh, forgive me."
"Mole!" exclaimed the devil, in a thrilling voice, "your evil deeds are known to me."
"Oh, oh, oh!" groaned the wretched Isaac, piteously.
"Your time has come."
"Mercy, mercy!" gasped Mole.
"Never."
"Give me a little time, Mr. Devil."
"No."
"Oh, do, do, for the sake of my twins," said Mole, in his most persuasive manner, "and I'll stand any thing you like to—hic—to name. Don't take me away, but come and liquor up with me."
"Silence!" thundered the irritable devil
"I'm dumb."
"Away with you, and repent."
Mole staggered off.
As soon as he was gone, Matteo assisted his master to change his garments, and in the space of five minutes at the outside, the devil disappeared, and was replaced by a gay cavalier, habited in a rich costume of blue slashed with amber, and a broad-brimmed sombrero.
The excitement occasioned by the impudent robbery of the contessa Maraviglia's jewels had not by any means subsided, so the confusion prevailing in consequence was highly favourable to Hunston's new villany for trapping little Emily.
Nearing the entrance to the ball-room, he came to a conservatory, into which Mr. Mole had strolled, or let us say staggered, and then dropped into a seat.
Hunston glided in unperceived by Mole, and concealed himself behind some thick shrubs close to him.
Mole was bent upon making himself comfortable.
The irrepressible bottle was out again.
"I feel," mumbled Mole, little thinking there was a listener near, "I feel that I am a devil of a fellow. All the ladies love me, and all the men fear me. I'm too much for anyone of them, ha, ha, ha! I've taken a rise out of the devil himself."
Here he had a suck at the bottle.
"I'm getting quite familiar with evil spirits to-night," he said grinning; "I don't think he will see me again in a hurry—he, he!" He raised the bottle again to his lips, when a ghostly voice sounded in his ear—
"Beware!"
He turned pale, and then got very red in the face.
"Who's there?" said Mole, looking nervously round; "come in, don't knock; what a fool I am."
"Remember!" said the same hollow voice as before.
"Oh, Lor', oh, Lor'!" cried Mole; "I'm gone; he's there again."
"Beware!"
"I'm gone, I'm going," cried Mole; "oh, Lor', oh, Lor'!"
And off he ran, Hunston following closely behind him.
Now Hunston got near enough to him to see that he was really trying to get little Emily and Paquita to take care of him for a time, and walk with him in the grounds.
"There will be two of them to take care of," said Hunston, following them up as closely as was prudent; "that complicates matters. I hope Matteo has taken his measures carefully."
Matteo had.
They drew near to the entrance of the maze, and then Hunston began to look anxiously about him for Matteo and the rest of their accomplices.
"I think we had better return," he heard little Emily say.
Suddenly a whistle was blown, and five or six men sprang out from the maze.
In less time than it takes to record the outrage, the two girls were seized and borne off in stout, relentless arms, their cries being stifled by thick wraps thrown over their heads.
"To the small gate," exclaimed Hunston.
Mole recognised the familiar voice of Hunston, and the whole danger flashed into his mind at once, sobering him most effectually.
"Hunston, you villain, I know you!" he cried. "And I will lose my life rather than harm should come to these dear girls."
Hunston turned and faced him savagely.
"If you know me, Mole," he said meaningly, "then beware of me."
Mole's only reply was to grapple with him with all his strength.
But the foolish old man was hurled to the ground, and then one of the brigands fell upon him, brandishing a huge knife.
Hunston here interfered, and gave a command which made the men laugh very heartily.
A fresh outrage was perpetrated, and in the space of two minutes, Mr. Mole found himself alone, and on his back.
"Hunston, you black-hearted thief," he cried, "I'll follow you if—"
He tried to rise, but down he went again.
He was lop-sided.
And why?
The brigands had amputated one of his wooden legs.
* * * * *
Leaving them for a moment, let us return to Mathias.
That daring scoundrel was not satisfied with having escaped a great danger scot free, and made a very rich prize, but he must needs return to the Palazzo Maraviglia in another dress, in quest of fresh plunder.
The fact was that he was flushed with wine.
Else he would have thought twice of returning.
Mingling with the crowd in the large ball-room, he came to a group discussing the late robbery in great excitement, and as he was pressing forward to learn what he could, he became entangled in a lady's lace flounces.
He turned sharply to apologise, and recognised the figure at once.
"The lovely Marietta," Mathias exclaimed.
She heard him, and made off to the other end of the room, closely followed by Mathias, who had conceived a violent fancy for her.
"Stay, Senorita," he exclaimed, seizing her hand.
"What do you want with me?" said Marietta.
"Only to plead—"
"Nonsense," she exclaimed, interrupting him abruptly; "you don't know me."
"Let me plead—"
"Bother!"
"Nay," said the persistent robber, "if you will not hear me speak, hear me sing."
And then, being an admirable mimic, he imitated her strut before the looking-glass, and general coquettish behaviour in the dressing-room at the villa, while he sang in a falsetto voice—
"Sweet Marietta,
Rarely has been
A sweeter or better
Face or form seen.
Dear Marietta!"
"Hah!" cried the girl, starting back as if she had been shot.
Her first impulse was to faint.
But as soon as she gained the cooler air without, she recovered, and collecting her senses a little, she gave a pretty shrewd guess at the truth.
She was silly, yet not a bad-natured girl.
She saw her duty plainly enough.
She must make herself known at once to her master.
Harkaway was close at hand, discussing the robbery still with Jefferson.
The whole of this party were of course known to Marietta; so she made straight up to Harkaway, and said hurriedly—
"Have that man seized, sir—see, that one who is following me. I am Marietta. He has just said something to me which convinces me that he was hiding in the villa to-night."
"Hullo!" exclaimed Harkaway, not a little startled at this sudden address; "why, what in Heaven's name—"
"Lose no time," interrupted Marietta eagerly, "or he will go—see, he has taken the alarm."
"The girl's right," said Jefferson, striding off after Mathias.
The latter now began to perceive that he had made a false step, and he hurried through the crowded room towards the door, and was just passing out, when a dwarfed and ugly figure leaped upon him.
So sudden was the attack that Mathias was capsized, and together they rolled upon the floor.
"Let go!" said the Greek fiercely, "or I'll—"
"Not me!" exclaimed Magog Brand—for he was the Greek's assailant. "I know you, my yellow-feathered devil, even though you have shed your skin!"
"Let go," hissed the Greek brigand, with compressed lips, "or I'll have your life!"
"I'll not let go," cried the brave little Brand. "I have got you, villain, and will hold you. Ah!"
Mathias scrambled up, and tried to fly, but he was met with a blow from Jefferson's fist which might have felled an ox in the shambles.
He dropped lifeless on the ground beside Magog,
And then a sudden outcry arose, for it was found that in that brief struggle poor Magog Brand had been cruelly used.
A long-bladed poignard was buried up to the hilt in his side.
Poor Brand.
Death must have been almost instantaneous.
They tore the mask from Mathias' face, and thereupon an agent of the secret police stepped forward and made known who it was.
"This is the notorious Mathias," he said. "One of the most daring of the brigands hereabouts; we have been wanting him badly for some time past."
"You have got him," said Harkaway, "but oh!" he added, glancing at the lifeless form of Magog Brand, "at what a price for us!"
At this juncture Harvey reached the spot, and taking in the whole scene at a glance, he dropped on his knees beside the body of Magog Brand, where Jefferson was already kneeling, seemingly half stupefied by the catastrophe.
"He has fainted," said he to Harvey.
Harvey shook his head mournfully.
"He'll never faint again, Jefferson."
"What?"
"Never."
"You surely—no, no, Brand, dear old boy, look up."
He faltered and broke down.
"Yes, Jefferson," said Harvey in deep emotion. "Poor Magog Brand is at the end of his troubles and pleasures alike—he is dead!"
[Illustration: "'MURDER! ABDUCTION! SHOUTED MOLE HUNSTON IS HERE"—ADV IN GREECE VOL II PAGE 39.]