"I have no wish to hear you. I only demand the reason you are here--a guest in the Minister's house."

"You surely know," he laughed airily. "Am I not to marry Mademoiselle Marie?"

"You have schemed to do so, I know."

"Well, well," he remarked philosophically, "we are both schemers--are we not, my dear George? In scheming, however, so very little is certain.

But in this world one thing is certain--namely, that Mademoiselle Marie will become Comtesse Dubard at three o'clock on the day after to-morrow."

The two men were standing quite close to each other, and in that grey light could readily watch the expression of each other's faces.

"It is your intention, no doubt," answered Macbean. "But during the month I have been in Rome I have not been idle. I have learned how Angelo Borselli still holds you in the hollow of his hand, and how cleverly he has made you his cat's-paw to ruin and disgrace Morini.

Listen, and if I speak an untruth deny it. Ever since the Sazarac affair you and Borselli have actively conspired against Camillo Morini.

The Under-Secretary, with your a.s.sistance, had arranged a political _coup_, but in order to compel Miss Mary to give her consent to this scandalous marriage, you have induced Borselli to stay his hand. You are forcing her to marry you, in order to save her father from ruin and probably from suicide, well knowing, however, what Borselli's intentions are, as soon as she is your wife and you have obtained her _dot_! You intend--"

"Look here, hound! Did you ask me to come here to insult me?" cried the Frenchman in fury, advancing a pace in a threatening manner.

"You have said you have something to say to me," was his response. "But before you say it, I wish to make plain what are my intentions."

"And what are they, pray?"

"I intend to prevent Mary Morini making this sacrifice," was his quiet, determined reply.

"You love her yourself! Friends of mine have watched you in Rome.

Although I was absent, I knew quite well that you were in her father's service; but believe me, I was in no manner anxious, first because of your menial position--a mere secretary--and secondly, because of the past."

"The past!" cried Macbean. "The past! Surely you ought not to speak of the past--you, to whom the family of Morini, the father of the innocent woman you have schemed to marry, owes the peril in which he now exists.

You shall never marry her!" he added angrily. "Never!"

There was a brief silence, then Dubard responded with a defiant laugh.

"You cannot prevent it, my friend."

"But I will."

"And expose yourself?"

"I shall at least expose a man who has marked down a pure and innocent woman as his victim."

Dubard laughed again, saying--

"Of course. You've fallen in love with her, and are jealous that she should become my wife!"

"I am her friend," he declared. "And I will protect her."

"And allow the charges to be made against her father."

"They will be brought whether you marry her or not--you know that quite well. I have not been private secretary to Morini without discovering the insecurity of his official position, and the deadly rivalry and crafty cunning of Angelo Borselli. Again, answer me one question--why is Felice Solaro, your friend, condemned as a traitor?"

"He doesn't concern me in the least," was the other's reply.

"But the matter concerns me," Macbean went on. "Recollect how studiously you have avoided me ever since August, when I recognised you driving over in that road yonder--when an evil fate threw me again across your path."

"You appear, then, to believe that I am in fear of you?" he said. "But let me tell you that I have no such anxiety whatsoever. Try and prevent my marriage--but recollect it will be at your own peril?"

George knew well at what his enemy had hinted--he knew too well that if he uttered one word it would bring upon him a deadly peril--that he would be hurled to ruin and disgrace. Nevertheless, he was determined to sacrifice himself rather than all that he held most dear should be s.n.a.t.c.hed away from him by that man whose very existence and position was an adventure and a fraud.

But feeing the Frenchman determinedly, he said--

"The reason I invited you out here was to tell you frankly my intention, and so allow you opportunity to leave the place before the truth is known. I intend to go to-morrow to the Minister and tell him exactly the true state of affairs. He is in utter ignorance that it was you who stayed the adverse tide against him in the Chamber of Deputies--in ignorance that you made that vile, despicable agreement with his poor unfortunate daughter. When I have spoken we shall see whether he will allow the marriage to take place."

"And when you have spoken we shall also see whether he will not hear my own story."

"I am prepared for any allegation you may make against me," responded George. "You may ruin me--you may do what you and your friends will-- but you shall never marry Mary Morini!"

"I defy you!"

"Very well--we shall see."

"Tell the Minister what you choose, but remember that if you endeavour to create friction between us, I will show you no mercy," he cried between his teeth. "Until now I have been silent, but--"

"You've been silent because you know too well that you fear to speak-- you fear to make any allegations against me. I know rather too much!"

declared the Englishman, with confidence.

"Much or little, it does not concern me in the least," replied the foreigner. "You create unpleasantness, and _eh bien_! I do the same."

"Then you actually intend that that desperate woman, in deadly fear of her father's ruin, shall become your wife?"

"I do."

"Then I tell you, Dubard," he cried, "that I will not allow it! I will never allow it. I will tell the truth, and bear the consequences."

"The consequences!" exclaimed the Frenchman in a deep, serious voice, his teeth hard set in anger which he strove to suppress, but which nevertheless rose by reason of his quick foreign nature. "The consequences! Have you realised them all? You seem to have a short memory, my dear friend--and a short memory is often convenient. Shall I refresh it for you?" he asked, as the man before him clutched at the wooden rail of the stile for support, although striving valiantly to preserve a defiant calm. "Shall I recall to you the memory of those sunny winter days when your employer Morgan-Mason took you with him to the Villa Puget at Mentone, when he was the guest of his brother-in-law, General Felix Sazarac? Shall--"

"I know! I know!" cried the young Englishman. "I know all--why should you recall all that?"

"To refresh your memory, my dear friend," responded Dubard, with withering sarcasm. "Do you recollect how that we were friends in those days--you, Felice Solaro, and myself? Solaro and I were at the Hotel National, and you were given a room at the villa by your employer's hostess, his elder sister, Madame Sazarac--who had married the general.

Do you not remember these days, spent at Monte Carlo, or up at La Turbie, our luncheons, our dinners at the Paris, and our little games at the tables? Oh yes, you had a merry time then--we all had--even the poor general himself. And then--"

"Stop!" Macbean implored, raising both his hands. "Enough!--I know!

Heavens!--as though I could ever forget!"

"But you have forgotten, it seems, or you--of all persons--would never seek to come between me and the woman I am to marry. Therefore hear me--once and for all. And when you have heard, reflect well before you adopt a course which must inevitably reflect upon yourself--nay more, which must cause your own ruin. Do you recollect how your employer Morgan-Mason had gone alone to Ma.r.s.eilles to meet his Indian manager who was returning to England, and how you, being alone, the general often invited you to ride with him up the Corniche road, and sometimes into the mountains? He was fond of the English because his wife was English, and he had taken a great fancy to you. Being in command of the Alpine frontier defences in France, he had often to make inspections of those high-up fortresses that guard the pa.s.ses into Italy, and one day he invited you to ride with him away up to the fortress of Saint Martin Lantosque that overlooks Monte Malto."

"I will not hear you!" cried Macbean hoa.r.s.ely. "Enough! Enough!"

But the Frenchman continued in the same quiet, hard, meaning tone, his voice sounding clear in the quiet of night.

"With Solaro I chanced to call at the villa just as your horses were brought round, and we stood upon the steps and saw you mount. You waved your hand triumphantly to us, and trotted away at the side of the man who held the south-east frontier of France under his command. Do you recollect, as you rode down the drive bordered by its flowering azaleas, how you turned and looked back at us, in wonder whether we suspected your intentions? Perhaps not--the truth remains the same," he added, his face now closer to that of the man against whom he was making that withering accusation. "You rode nearly twenty miles into the mountains, and were high up above the Vesubie, in a wild, solitary district devoid of any human habitation, when, it being hot, you offered your brandy-flask to the general, who was without one--for you yourself had surrept.i.tiously taken it from his holster prior to setting out. Being thirsty, he took a long drink. Half an hour later he felt ill, and dismounted. And in an hour the poor fellow was dead!"