“What way, papa?”
“Why send the money at once; that’s the only way to save him. I can tell by the talk of the scoundrel—what’s his name?”
“He here signs his name ‘Il Capo.’ That is only his title as chief of the band.”
“It’s clear, from what the ruffian writes, that he cares for no government—no law, human or divine. This, lying upon the table, is proof sufficient that nothing will deter the scoundrels from carrying out their threat. Clearly nothing will prevent them but the payment of the money.”
“Five thousand pounds!” muttered Nigel; “it is a large sum.”
“A large sum! And if it were ten thousand, should we hesitate about sending it? Is your brother’s life not worth that? Ay, one finger of his hand is. Poor boy!”
“Oh! I did not mean that, papa. Only it occurred to me that if the money should be sent, and, after all done, the brigands should refuse to give him up. There will needs be caution in dealing with such fellows.”
“What caution can there be? There is no time. Within ten days the answer is required. My God! what if the post has been delayed? Look—what is the date of the postmark on the letter?”
“Roma, 12th,” said Nigel, reading from the stamp on the envelope. “It is now the 16th; there are still six days to the good.”
“Six days!—six days are nothing to send a messenger all the way to Rome. Besides, there is everything to be arranged—the money—though, I thank heaven, that need not cause any delay. But there is the going to London, to see Lawson, who may not be at home. There’s not a moment to be lost; I must start at once. Quick, Nigel, give orders for the carriage to be got ready without delay.”