Jerry Part 24

Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and laughed.

'That's not Italian; it's English, only the operator has spelt it phonetically--I begin to believe there is a Jerry,' she added, 'no one could cause such a bother who didn't exist.' She picked up the slip and translated--

'"Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo--JERRY."'

'I'm a clairvoyant, you see. I told you he wouldn't be there!'

'But where is he?' Nannie wailed.

Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other, and were silent. Gustavo, who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approached and begged their pardon.

'_Scusi_, signora, but I sink I can explain. _Ecco_! Ze telegram is dated from Limone--zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake.

He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two--tree days wif an Englishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he would not go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while, after one--two day he come back.'

'What is the man talking about?' Mrs. Eustace was both indignant and bewildered. 'Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d'Oro. How can he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake to-day?'

'You don't suppose'--Nannie's voice was tragic--'that he has eloped with that American girl?'

'Good heavens, my dear!' Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. 'What are the laws in this dreadful country? Don't banns or something have to be published three weeks before the ceremony can take place?'

Mr. Wilder rose hastily.

'Yes, yes, dear lady. It's impossible; don't consider any such catastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to be going.--Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can't believe--that is, don't let anything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many fine qualities, he has not Jerry's regard for truth. And don't bother any more about the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written some letters of explanation that you haven't got. These foreign mails----' He edged toward the gate.

Constance followed him and then turned back.

'We're on our way to the jail,' she said, 'to visit our donkey-driver, who has managed to get himself arrested. While we're there we can make inquiries if you like; it's barely possible that they might have got hold of Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails----'

'Constance!' said Nannie reproachfully.

'Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it's impossible. Good-bye.'

She nodded and laughed and ran after her father.

CHAPTER XVIII

If one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a more entertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure which was once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, are s.p.a.cious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed from social intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the Piazza Garibaldi, which is the social centre of the town; it contains the village post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and the two rival cafes, the 'Independenza' and the 'Liberta.' The piazza is always dirty and noisy--that goes without saying--but on Wednesday morning at nine o'clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is Valedolmo's market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths and hucksters and anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcely wedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the cries of vendors and buyers rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids and squealing pigs and braying donkeys.

Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowd with little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on the left with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenely cool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chance acquaintance, smiling on every one; the spectacle to her held always fresh interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buy a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe for twenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both, and presented them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were d.o.g.g.i.ng their footsteps.

The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple of interest, that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of the bystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. n.o.body answered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force which sent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second's wait--snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder's part; he was being pressed close by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo--the door was opened a very small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon the crowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caught sight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above a bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was long since such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped a curtsy, and the crack widened.

'Your commands, signorina?'

'We, wish to come in.'

'But it is against the orders. Friday is visiting-day at thirteen o'clock. If the signorina had a _permesso_ from the _sindaco_, why then----'

The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no _permesso_ and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the _sindaco's_ office didn't open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; there was a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress would allow them to step inside away from the crowd, and she would explain?

This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezed through. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, who lingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to their bargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew a deep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back.

Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece; and the jailoress dropped a curtsy.

'We have heard that Antonio, our donkey-driver, has been arrested for deserting from the army and we have come to find out about it. My father, the signore here'--she waved her hand toward Mr. Wilder--'likes Antonio very much, and is quite sure that it is a mistake.'

The woman's mouth hardened; she nodded with emphasis.

'_Gia_. We have him, the man Antonio, if that is his name. He may not be the deserter they search--I do not know--but if he is not the deserter he is something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, when they brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; I did not understand, but I _felt_. Also he kicked my husband--kicked him quite hard so that he limps to-day. And the way he orders us about! You would think he were a prince in his own palace and we were his servants.

Nothing is good enough for him. He objected to the room we gave him first because it smelt of the cooking. He likes b.u.t.ter with his bread and hot milk with his coffee. He cannot smoke the cigars which my husband bought for him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning'--her voice rose shrilly as she approached the climax--'he called for a bath. It is true, signorina, a _bath_. _Dio mio_, he wished me to carry the entire village fountain to his room!'

'Not really?' Constance opened her eyes in shocked surprise. 'But surely, signora, you did not do it?'

The woman blinked.

'It would be impossible, signorina,' she contented herself with saying.

Constance, with grave concern, translated the sum of Tony's enormities to her father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically.

'My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you so much trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuade him to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make him understand.'

The woman winked meaningly.

'Eh--he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to ask for what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered his arrest thinks--that he is shamming.'

'It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember his name--was it Carlo di Ferara?'

'It might have been.' Her face was vague.

'Of the cavalry?'

'_Si_, signorina, of the cavalry--and very handsome.'

Constance laughed. 'Well, the plot thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony's hearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenant that we don't like to have our donkey-man s.n.a.t.c.hed away without our permission.' She turned back to the jailoress. 'And now, where is the man? We should like to speak with him.'

'It is against the orders, but perhaps--I have already permitted the head waiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. He says that the man Antonio is in reality an American n.o.bleman from New York, who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and that unless he is set at liberty immediately a ship will come with cannon, but--we all know Gustavo, signorina.'

Constance nodded and laughed.

'You have reason! We all know Gustavo--may we go right up?'

The jailoress called the jailor. They talked aside; the two-franc piece was produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got out a bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down a long corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls--nymphs and cupids and garlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail--at last they paused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore softly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumph produced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with a bow.

A large room was revealed, brick-floored and somewhat scanty as to furniture, but with a view--an admirable view, if one did not mind it being checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in the room, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially American att.i.tude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloud of tobacco smoke and a wide-spread copy of a New York paper concealed him from too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of the opening door, but contented himself with growling----

'Confound your impudence! You might at least knock before you come in.'