Ucelli urged that Mr. Eversleigh was evidently a highly intelligent man, and must have picked up some knowledge of Italian. Therefore, with all respect to the Deputy-Minister, he ventured to think it possible Mr. Eversleigh might understand. And again he requested a private interview, which finally was granted to him.
The Deputy and the Syndic retired to an adjoining room, and left Gilbert alone with his thoughts.
His thoughts were a strange jumble. In the fore-ground of them were Silwood, James Russell, the Syndic, and the Deputy-Minister, but behind them were his father, Kitty, and Harry Bennet. As he sat there, they all presently seemed to mingle, to become obscure, as in some feverish dream, and then to stand out sharp and clear again.
Perhaps half an hour had passed when there rang through the house the report of a revolver, immediately followed by the sounds of a struggle and the cries and shouts of those engaged in it.
Gilbert sprang to his feet at once, and ran into the next room, from which the noise had come.
There, on the floor, were Ucelli, and above him the Deputy-Minister holding him by the throat. A little distance away lay a revolver; there was the smell of burnt powder in the air, while the furniture of the apartment was in disorder.
"Get something," panted the Deputy, "with which we can bind and secure him, Mr. Eversleigh. Take that table-cover and tear it up—that will do."
Gilbert, who had of course easily grasped the situation, did as he was bid, and in two or three minutes the Syndic was bound hand and foot.
"You are not hurt?" Gilbert inquired of the Deputy. "I heard the sound of a shot."
"No; though it was not Ucelli's fault. He deliberately tried to kill me, but I was too quick for him," said the Deputy, still gasping. "I will tell you all when I have recovered a little."