“It sounds like the beating of a drum,” said Jack, and he ran to the window. “Come here, Bertha. There is a body of sailors—English sailors, I think—and marines in front of the house.”
“Yes, I know,” said Bertha. “Admiral Enright sent to his ship for them, and now let us seek him out and also the Countess Mont d’Oro, who will be glad you are come, for everything here in Corsica seems to be at sixes and sevens.”
The Admiral greeted Jack with the utmost cordiality. “I knew that your good friend, and my Lieutenant, Victor Duquesne, was very much worried because of your absence, and I am glad you have returned to give a good account of yourself.”
Jack gave a brief recital of his wanderings since he left the hotel at Ajaccio, and also explained the condition of the wounded man, upon hearing which the Admiral immediately detailed four sailors to accompany Jack on his humane errand.
“My dear Countess,” said the Admiral, “our young friend has gone to save one life; it is now our duty to see if we can save two.”
It was a strange procession that left the house of the Countess Mont d’Oro and, escorted by the sailors and marines, soon reached the Batistelli castle. The Admiral and his daughter were in advance, while close behind them were the Countess Mont d’Oro, and Bertha who insisted upon accompanying them, declaring that nothing would induce her to remain at home alone.
Adolphe and Clarine stood in the open doorway waiting to receive them, and led the party through rooms and corridors, and up the steep stone stairway to the Hall of Mirrors. The picture they formed, transferred to canvas, would have won fame and fortune for the artist. There was the Admiral in the handsome uniform of his rank; the Countess dressed in the latest Parisian style, and Helen and Bertha in plain and simple attire, forming a marked contrast with the uniforms of the jack-tars and marines. The company was not very large, but its numbers were, apparently, multiplied by the mirrors on the walls, and it seemed as though a vast concourse was present.
The Admiral studied carefully the picture disclosed by the parting of the hinged mirrors. All could see that the artist had depicted a well-known incident in the garden of Eden.
“Does any one here know aught about the dungeon?” inquired the Admiral.
Adolphe led the old nurse, Clarine, forward. “I am the only one who knows,” she said. Clarine then told what she knew of the history of the dungeon chamber, the paper left by Vivienne’s father, how she had given it to the young girl on her birthday, and how it had disappeared, no one knew how or where.