I saw that rapid and decided action was necessary. Should I return to England and watch the actions of the man I had known as Lieutenant Shacklock, or should I go on to Rome and try and discover something both regarding the object of Miller's journey there and the part of the Italian who, prior to his death, had consigned to me that mysterious packet?

As I ate my dinner in silence I decided to first take a flying visit to Rome. I could return to England afterwards. Ella's marriage was not for three weeks or so, therefore I might, in that time, succeed in solving the enigma as far as Miller was concerned, and by doing so obtain further information against his accomplice, Gordon-Wright.

Therefore at midnight I left Leghorn by way of Colle Salvetti, and through the night travelled across the Maremma fever-marshes, until at nine o'clock next morning the train drew into the great echoing terminus of the "Eternal City."

I went to the Hotel Milano, where it was my habit to stay. I knew Rome well and preferred the Milano--which, as you know, is opposite the Chamber of Deputies in the Piazza Colonna--to the Grand, the Quirinale, or the new Regina. At the Milano there was an unpretentious old-world comfort appreciated too by the Italian deputies themselves, for many of them had their _pied-a-terre_ there while attending to their parliamentary duties in the capital.

Rome lay throbbing beneath the August heat and half deserted, for every one who can get away in those breathless blazing days when the fever is prevalent does so. Numbers of the shops in the Corso and the Via Vittorio were closed, the big doors and _persiennes_ of the palaces and emba.s.sies were shut, showing that their occupants were away at the sea, or in the mountains, in France, Switzerland or England for cool air, while the cafes were deserted, and the only foreigners in the streets a few perspiring German and American sightseers.

Unfortunately I had not inquired of Lucie her father's address and knew nothing except that he was staying with a doctor named Gavazzi.

Therefore at the hotel I obtained the directory and very soon discovered that there was a doctor named Gennaro Gavazzi living in the Via del Tritone, that long straight thoroughfare of shops that run from the Piazza S. Claudio to the Piazza Barberini.

It was about midday when I found the house indicated by the directory, a large palazzo which in Italian style was let out in flats, the ground floor being occupied by shops, while at the entrance an old white-haired hall-porter was dozing in a chair.

I awoke him and inquired in Italian if the Signore Dottore Gavazzi lived there.

"_Si signore. Terzo piano_," was the old fellow's reply, raising his forefinger to his cap.

"Thank you," I said, slipping five francs into his ready palm. "But by the way," I added as an afterthought, "do you know whether he has an English signore staying with him--a tall dark-haired thin man?"

"There's a gentleman staying with the Signore Dottore, but I do not think he is an Englishman. He spoke perfect Italian to me yesterday."

"Ah, of course, I forgot. He speaks Italian perfectly," I said. "And this Dottore Gavazzi. How long has he lived here?"

"A little over a year. He acted as one of the private secretaries to His Excellency the Minister Nardini--he who ran away from Rome a little time ago, and hasn't since been heard of."

"Oh! was he," I exclaimed at once, highly interested. "Nardini played a sharp game, didn't he?"

"Embezzled over a million francs, they say," remarked the porter. "But whenever he came here, and it was often, he always gave me something to get a cigar with. He was very generous with the people's money, I will say that for him," and the old fellow laughed. "They say there was a lady in the case, and that's why he fled from Rome."

"A lady! Who was she?"

"n.o.body seems to know. There's all sorts of reports about, of course.

I hope the police will find him. They must arrest him some day, don't you think so, signore?"

"Perhaps," I said, thinking deeply. "But I'm interested to hear about the lady. What is it you've heard?"

"Only very little. According to the rumour, the police found at the Villa Verde, out at Tivoli, after he had gone, the dead body of a young lady locked in the study. It was at once hushed up, and not a word of it has been allowed to get into the papers. The Government gave orders to the police, I suppose, to suppress it, fearing to make the scandal graver. I heard it, however, on very good authority from my son who is in the _carabinieri_ and stationed at Tivoli. The body, he says, was that of a well-dressed young lady about twenty-six or seven. When the carabineers went with the _commissario_ to seal up the fugitive's effects, they found the body lying full length on the carpet. She still had her hat on and seemed as though she had suddenly fallen dead.

Another curious thing is that the doctors discovered no wound, and don't seem to know what was the cause of her death."

"That's strange!" I remarked. "I suppose they photographed the body?"

"Of course. But the portrait hasn't been published because the police are compelled to hush up the affair."

"Does your son know any further particulars, I wonder?"

"No more than what he's told me. He says that quite a number of secret police agents have been over to Tivoli trying to establish the lady's ident.i.ty, and that they think they know who she was. He was here only yesterday and we were talking about it."

"And who do they think she was?"

"Well, my son has, of course, a lot to do with the police, and a few days ago a friend of his of the _squadra mobile_ told him that they had established the fact that the dead girl was English."

"English! Do they know her name?"

"No, only they say that she was in Rome a great deal last winter, and was seen generally in the company of a tall, dark, English girl, her friend. Indeed, they say that both of them were seen in the Corso, accompanied by a middle-aged English gentleman, about a week before Nardini took to flight. They had apparently returned to Rome."

"And they know none of their names?"

"They've found out that the English signore stayed at the Grand, they don't know where the young ladies were living, probably at some small pension. They are now doing all they can to find out, but it is difficult, as most of the pensions are closed just now. They've, however, discovered the name of the dead girl's friend--through some dressmaker, I think. It was Mille--Milla--or some name like that. The English names are always so puzzling."

"Miller!" I gasped, staring at the old fellow, as all that Lucie had admitted to me regarding her visit to the villa at Tivoli flashed through my bewildered brain. "And she was the intimate friend of this unknown girl who has been found dead in the empty house and whose tragic end has been officially hushed up!"

CHAPTER THIRTY.

SOME DISCOVERIES IN ROME.

The mysterious flight of Nardini, the prominent politician and Minister for Justice, was, it seemed, still the one topic of conversation in the "Eternal City", Only that morning I had read a paragraph in the _Tribuna_ that the fugitive was believed to have reached Buenos Ayres.

The Emba.s.sy in London had evidently kept the secret I had divulged, and even the Italian police were in ignorance that the man wanted for that gigantic embezzlement--for the sum stated to have disappeared was now known to be a very large one--was already in his grave.

The mysterious discovery at the dead man's villa out at Tivoli, that pleasant little town with the wonderful cascade twenty miles outside Rome, greatly complicated the problem. And the girl who had been found in such strange circ.u.mstances was actually an intimate friend of Lucie Miller! The whole thing was a.s.suming a shape entirely beyond my comprehension.

I presently thanked the old porter for his information, slipped another tip into his hand, and walked back to the Corso, hugging the shade, and reflecting deeply upon what the old fellow had told me.

Two or three facts were quite plain. The first was that Miller would most certainly not be in Rome if he had the slightest suspicion that the police were in search of Lucie. Therefore, although the doctor had acted as the fugitive's secretary, he was in ignorance of the discovery made at the Villa Verde. Again, had not Nardini himself for some reason abstracted from the archives of the Questura the official record of Miller, his description and the suspicions against him?

Therefore I saw that the police were hampered in their inquiries, because they were without information. Again, the name of Gennaro Gavazzi, though not an uncommon one in Italy, struck me as familiar from the first moment that Lucie had uttered it in Leghorn.

Now, as I walked the streets of Rome, I remembered. It came upon me like a flash. It had been written in that confidential police record that the doctor was a Milanese, and that he was suspected of being an accomplice of the Englishman.

And yet Nardini, being aware of this, had actually appointed him one of his private secretaries!

That latter fact was one that showed either conspiracy or that Nardini, crafty and far-seeing, employed the doctor with some ulterior motive.

I was anxious to see what sort of person this Gavazzi might be.

I begrudged every moment I spent in Rome, anxious as I was to be back near my well-beloved and shield her from the blackguard who held her in his power. Yet this new development of the mystery held me anxious and eager.

Already I was in possession of greater knowledge of the affair than the police themselves; therefore I hoped that I might, by careful action and watching, learn the truth.

Somehow, by instinct it might have been, I felt that if I could but elucidate the mystery of the Villa Verde I should gain some knowledge that would release my love from her hideous bondage. I don't know why, but it became a fixed idea with me. Therefore I resolved to remain in Rome at least a few days and carefully watch Miller and his friend.

Every moment, every hour, I thought of my sweet one who I knew loved me as pa.s.sionately as I loved her, and yet who was now separated from me by a gulf which I was determined to bridge. She was ever in my thoughts, her beautiful face with those dear sad eyes ever before me, the music of her voice ever ringing in my ears. Yes. She should be mine--mine if I died myself in order to save her!

Towards evening I loitered up and down the Via del Tritone hoping to catch sight of the doctor and his English visitor, for I calculated that their probable habit was to dine at a restaurant. From the porter I had learnt that Gavazzi was a bachelor, therefore he probably had arrangements _en pension_ at one or other of the restaurants, in the manner of most single men in Rome.

Though I waited nearly two hours, from half-past six to half-past eight, I saw nothing of Miller or of his host. The old porter noticed me, therefore having gauged his character pretty accurately I crossed to him and explained that I was waiting to see the doctor come out, as I was not certain whether he was the Dr Gavazzi whom I had known in Venice some years ago. This little fiction, combined with another small tip, satisfied the old man, and I went forth into the street again, fearing that if I remained in the entrance Miller, in pa.s.sing, might recognise me.

It was a weary vigil, and one that required constant attention, for on a summer's evening the streets of Rome are crowded by the populace who come out to enjoy the cool air after the blazing heat of the day.

Another hour pa.s.sed without sign of them. In any case they must have dined in their rooms--perhaps sent a servant out to a neighbouring cook-shop.