Ferretti hesitated.
‘It has been promised us—guaranteed to us, in fact—by one who has reasons of his own for wanting to see Humbert out of the way.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ I objected. ‘It sounds as though we were being hired as private assassins.’
Ferretti’s face fell.
‘I am afraid I cannot tell you anything more without consulting others,’ he said slowly. ‘I will swear to you, if you like, that it is not a case of private revenge. The person behind us has public reasons for his conduct, though they are not the same as ours.’
This statement threw me into a brown study. What public reasons could any one possibly have for the removal of the King of Italy? The Garibaldians? No, they were not assassins—besides, they would not have come to America to get a suitable instrument. There were plenty nearer at hand.
‘Listen to me,’ I said at length. ‘When I took a vow to rid the world of a crowned head at the risk of my own life, I did not undertake to become a blind tool in the hands of any one else. I owe no obedience to you or our comrades. I say what I said last night—convince me that I ought to kill Humbert, and I will. But it is no good if you can’t trust me. Why should I trust you with my life, when you won’t trust me with your reasons for wanting this King out of the way?’
Ferretti was staggered.
‘I will tell the others what you say,’ he declared. ‘For my part, I think your demand is reasonable.’
He left me, but did not come back. Days passed, and no further overture was made to me. On the contrary, the lame Swiss began to talk to me about the other victims I had pointed out, and to encourage me to fix on one of them.