Truth to tell, the Marchesa Elena had been forced, by the elegant, insidious Corradini, to accept traitorous service in the pay of Austria. Their usual meeting-place was in the old church of St. Antonio, which at vespers was always crowded by the devout, who, in the days of war, prayed for Italy’s victory. Sarzana had always been one of the most pious cities in Italy, and each evening the splendid old Cathedral was crowded. And in that crowd the pair met—kneeling side by side to whisper, and again near them knelt Madame Gabrielle.
In all Sarzana no woman worked harder at the great war-hospital established in the Communal Palace than the popular wife of the Admiral of the Port.
The Marchese, the most influential and delightful man in Sarzana, was, as everyone knew, the author of the many raids upon the enemy which had from time to time been carried out. Well known, too, it was, how the “mosquito” fleet of destroyers, piloted by him, had only a month ago entered the great harbour of Cattaro, opposite Rimini, and had sunk four big Austrian battleships at anchor there—four of the biggest ships of Austria’s navy.
About this time the wealthy Countess Malipiero—who was nowadays Elena’s most intimate friend, and who was constantly at the Admiral’s table—purchased a big sea-going motor-launch, a quiet, harmless old fisherman called Beppo, well known in Sarzana, being placed as skipper. Before the war, the Countess had, in secret, been in very poor circumstances, but owing to the death of a relative—so she explained—she had been left a substantial legacy.
One evening, as the Admiral and his wife were about to finish dinner tête-à-tête, the manservant announced that Captain Vivarini, the second in command, had called and desired to speak with his chief very urgently.
“Show the Captain to the study,” said the Marchese, as he rose at once and passed along to his cosy little den which overlooked the port.
Elena, instantly upon the alert, and suspecting that something unusual had happened, waited until the Captain had been conducted to her husband’s room, and then she crept silently along to the door, where she knew she could overhear the conversation, having listened there several times before.
On tiptoe she approached noiselessly over the soft Turkey carpet, and, placing her ear to the door, was enabled to hear news.
In brief, it was to the effect that one of the newest Austrian submarines had been captured intact, with officers and crew, off the Point of Cortellazo.
“The submarine Number 117 left Fiume only yesterday, according to its commander, whom I have interrogated,” the Captain reported.