A Creature of the Night: An Italian Enigma

by Fergus Hume

"No, Illustrious. It is accursed!" replied the Italian, crossing himself, "but there is fire below as well as above, and you are a heretic."

"Which means that I had better beware of the devil! eh, Peppino. Well, well; I'm not afraid, so I will enter the palace, and if you see me carried off by the ghosts, you can tell the carabinieri."

"Dio! Illustrious, do not jest; but if you will go you must go. I will wait here and pray for your soul."

Peppino was as obstinate as a mule in his fear of ghosts, so leaving him to smoke his long Italian cigar and watch the brown lizards scuttling over the hot stones in the sunshine, I advanced towards the palace with the determination to find out the secret chamber. As I knew it would be dark therein, owing to its want of windows, I had taken the precaution to provide myself with a candle and a box of matches. Feeling that these were safe in my pocket, I went to the iron gate and entered the courtyard in the same way as I had done on that night. This time, however, I examined the ironwork, and found to my surprise that the missing bar had been half filed through and then wrenched away. The marks left were quite fresh, and it had been done so recently that the bar had not had time to grow rusty. This discovery astonished me not a little, as I did not see the reason of such an entrance being made. If it were the Contessa who used the palace, she would have the key of the side door, and could thus admit herself and her lover at her pleasure, while this breach could only have been made by some one who could not enter in any other way.

I thought of the person into whose arms I had fallen, the person who had placed a handkerchief wet with some liquid over my face, and although, according to Peppino's story, this watcher at the door was the phantom of Count Mastino Morone, yet dismissing such an explanation as due to superstition, I began to think that another person had followed the lady of the sepulchre besides myself. Yes, there could be no doubt about it, some third person had tracked her to the palazzo, and, unable to enter in the ordinary way, had filed through and broken the iron bar in the gate. Gaining access to the interior of the palazzo in this way, the unknown had penetrated to the secret chamber, and doubtless had witnessed the same strange scene as I had done. My presence had been discovered, and to preserve for some unknown reason, the secret of this terrible chamber, I had been seized, rendered insensible by chloroform, and taken to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, so that I would be unable to re-discover the Palazzo Morone.

All these thoughts flashed through my brain with the rapidity of lightning, and I wondered whom this unknown could be--a friend of Pallanza? an accomplice of the Contessa! I did not know what to think, so leaving all such conjectures to a more seasonable time, I crossed over the dreary courtyard and entered the great hall.

It was a magnificent entrance, and when thronged with courtiers, men-at-arms, pages, and ladies, must have presented a noble appearance. Of enormous size, the high walls and lofty roof were painted with glowing frescoes representing the ancient glories of the Republic, and the floor was brilliant with gorgeous mosaics of coats-of-arms and fantastic figures. The painted windows on either side of the huge portal blazed with variegated tints, and the bright sun streaming in through the glass--as many-coloured as Joseph's coat--dyed the floor with vivid lights and gaudy hues. Ancient tapestries hung here and there between the two lines of black marble columns running down the sides of the hall, and the wind, stealing in through the open door, shook the grey dust from these mouldering splendours of the loom. At the end of this immense vestibule arose a broad staircase of white marble with balustrades of elaborate bronze fretwork, and from the first landing two other flights sloped off to right and left of the main branch. All the air was filled with floating shadows, the soft wind moved the hangings without sound, and I was alone in the deserted hall, over which brooded an intense silence, which made me shiver in the chill atmosphere pervading this abode of desolation.

However, the afternoon was passing quickly, and as I had plenty to do before nightfall, I rapidly ascended the shallow stairs. Turning to the right, which was the way the unknown lady had taken the other night, I soon found myself in the long corridor with the windows looking out on to the courtyard. Many of these were broken, but others were quite whole, their colours as bright and glowing as when they had first been placed there.

At the end of the corridor I turned to the left, and found the short flight of shallow steps, which, however, led up into darkness, so that before ascending them I had to light my candle. Luckily there were no draughts, for the air was absolutely still, and the flame of my candle burned clear and steadily. Up these steps I went, entered the short corridor, and paused before the heavy door which gave admission into the ante-chamber of the fatal room. Realizing what had taken place inside on that fatal night, I dreaded to enter, lest I should find the corpse of the unfortunate Pallanza on the floor; but overcoming my emotions, with a strong effort I thrust open the door and entered.

The tapestried chamber presented exactly the same appearance, with the small table in the centre, the burnt-out torch lying on the floor, and at the end the rich folds of the gold-worked curtains veiling the entrance to the inner apartment. I stood on the threshold, half expecting to hear the shrill notes of the mandolin, and the passionate song ring through the silence, but all was still and mute, as if it were indeed the tomb of the dead I expected to find.