‘A truce to these histrionics,’ Le Gautier exclaimed fiercely; ‘or we shall hold a Council, and serve you the same. There are your orders. I am your superior. Take them, and obey. Refuse, and’—— He stopped, folding his arms, and looked Maxwell full in the face for a moment; then turning abruptly upon his heel, quitted the room without another word.
Maxwell and his friend confronted each other. ‘And who is this Visci I am to murder?’ the artist demanded bitterly.
Salvarini bowed his head lower and lower till his face almost rested upon his breast. ‘You know him,’ he said. ‘He was a good friend of mine once, and his crime is the one you are contemplating now—disobedience to orders. Is it possible you have not guessed the doomed man to be Carlo Visci?’
‘Carlo Visci—my friend, my more than brother? I must be mad, mad or dreaming. Lay foul hands upon the best friend man ever had—the noble-hearted fellow whose purse was mine, who taught me all I know, who saved my life; and I to stab him in the dark because, perchance, he refuses to serve a companion the same! Never! May my right hand rot off, before I injure a hair of Carlo Visci’s head!’
‘Then you will die yourself,’ Salvarini put in sadly.
‘Then I shall die—death comes only once,’ Maxwell exclaimed proudly, throwing back his head. ‘No sin like that shall stain my soul!’
For a moment the two men were silent.
Salvarini broke the silence. ‘Listen, Maxwell,’ he said. ‘I am in a measure to blame for this, and I will do what I can to serve you. You must go to Rome, as if you intended to fulfil your task, and wait there till you hear from me. I am running great risks in helping you so, and you must rely on me. One thing is in your favour: time is no particular object. Will you go so far, for your sake and mine?’
‘Anything, anywhere!’ burst out the Englishman passionately.
(To be continued.)