The Man with the Double Heart Part 54

"I can quite believe it." McTaggart smiled. "After all, it's in the interests of the company. You've got to raise money somehow to save it--so the new shareholders are sacrificed for the old."

"Robbing Peter to pay Paul?" the Bishop suggested. "I heartily disapprove of it, and I warned my friend. He's going to see Schliff this afternoon, and I don't envy the latter. He'll meet his match."

"I doubt it--he's pretty thick-skinned! This isn't the first of his financial ventures."

"What are you two talking about?" Lady Leason broke in. "Here's your coffee." She handed the dainty cups in their egg-sh.e.l.l china and filigree stands. "And now, Peter"--she leaned back with a sigh--"I want to hear all about your year in Italy."

"Rather a tall order!--Where shall I start?"

"At the beginning." She looked at him curiously. "Tell us first why you deserted London?"

"To nurse my broken heart, of course. You seem to forget Cydonia."

"My dear Peter!"--she laughed back. "I don't believe that. I knew you were only flirting. She's pretty of course, but oh! so _dull_--and think of Cadell! What a father-in-law."

The Bishop frowned.

"I a.s.sure you they're excellent people, Laura. I've the greatest respect for Mrs. Cadell."

"She's got a good cook," said his cousin wickedly.

McTaggart threw himself into the pause that followed.

"Well--I went the usual round--Rome, Florence, Siena"--he laughed--"and Venice of course--and Naples." Here he paused, checked by some memory, evidently funny, smiling to himself.

"Out with it!" Lady Leason was watching his handsome face. "I feel a distinct 'p.r.i.c.king in my thumbs.' Oh, Bertram won't mind"--as she saw him glance at the Bishop--"I'll answer for him--he's never shocked!"

"Really, Laura!" her cousin protested.

"Man of the world--and a darling too." She gave him a look of real affection.

The Bishop blinked--"Well, Mr. McTaggart?"

"I was thinking of an adventure there"--Peter admitted--"nothing 'tres moutarde' ... but perhaps ... I'd better not."

"_Do_." Lady Leason drew the liqueurs nearer. "Some old brandy might give you courage?"

McTaggart was tempted. He saw in his mind a way of wrapping up the weak point in the story.

"Well--I'll risk it!" He emptied the gla.s.s, crossed his long legs and faced his audience.

"It happened on my first visit to Naples--I was yachting with some Roman friends, the Vivianis. The party consisted of my host and hostess and a man called Bellanti, his sister and myself. We touched there one evening to get supplies on our way back from Sicily, about nine o'clock. I remember Scirocco had blown all day--it was frightfully hot--we were all pretty limp. Viviani wouldn't stir and the Countess wanted bridge. They were four with Bellanti, so I thought I'd go ash.o.r.e.

"I must say they did their best to dissuade me, and, of course, I'd heard no end of yarns about Naples at night, but I thought they were just travellers' stories! We lay a good way out in the Bay. It's awfully smelly right in the harbour. But I rowed in with four of the crew, who were to wait and bring me back.

"Well, I wandered about until I was tired. The town didn't much appeal to me, and then suddenly I remembered an address a naval friend had given me--of a sort of dancing-place--rather like the 'Bal Tabarin,'

you know."

"Bertram doesn't know," said Lady Leason gravely.

"Yes, I do, my dear," said the Bishop unexpectedly. "Warleigh's youngest son mentioned it one day. He told me it was a Dancing Academy."

"Well ... something like it"--McTaggart chuckled. "Anyway, I went there. But it wasn't up to much. Just a bare hall, with a crowd of men and women and the usual 'Tarantella,' which I'd grown heartily sick of! But there was one girl who danced beautifully--pretty as paint--very dark, you know. I never saw such eyes in my life..."

"Oh, Peter!" Lady Leason laughed--"was this how you set about curing your broken heart?"

"Perhaps." His smile was enigmatic. "We danced together several times--the room was as hot as an oven and the wine the worst I ever have tasted. So when she suggested we should go outside and hunt up a cousin of hers who kept a bar--somewhere quite near--with decent drinks, like a fool, I forgot Viviani's warnings, she fetched a wrap and we started out.

"Well--it seemed a bit further than she thought. We pa.s.sed through a lot of narrow streets, up some steps and into an alley and came at last to a sort of tavern, where some sailors were drinking and playing cards.

"We crossed the room and went up some stairs, and I was beginning to feel doubtful when she opened a door into a dingy room, almost dark, with a flickering wick burning in a saucer of oil. 'I'll fetch the wine,' said my little friend--'and a lamp--sit down.' She disappeared--I heard the door close, then the click of a key being turned in the lock from outside.

"I sprang toward it, caught the handle, and the next thing I knew the light was extinguished and a man's voice said in English:

"'Hands up!'" ... He glanced at his audience.

"Good Heavens!" Lady Leason gasped. The Bishop's round, short-sighted eyes were still more prominent, his mouth open.

"How very unpleasant!" he observed.

"It _was_." McTaggart's voice was emphatic. "I saw at once it was a trap. n.o.body knew where I was, and I hadn't the faintest idea myself.

I stood there with my back to the door, trying to keep my wits about me.

"Then from the other side of the room came a second voice, also a man's. He said slowly, in Italian:

"'If you move an inch--you're a dead man.' So there were two of them!--That settled it. I guessed that both of them were armed, and there I was, in evening dress without so much as a pocket knife!

"'Take off your clothes, one by one,' said the first voice in broken English--'and lay them before you on the floor--together with your money and watch.'

"Well--I did it!" McTaggart scowled--the memory still had power to rouse him. "No earthly good showing fight--it was pitch dark and they knew where I stood.

"'You can keep your boots'--the speaker laughed--'and here's a paper'--he pitched it across--'it's a warm night--you won't catch cold!'

"Hope returned to me at that. For I didn't expect to get out alive.

Well--after a minute a match flared, and was promptly blown out. I caught a glimpse of dark figures to right and left and then I felt a hand grip my arm.

"'Straight ahead'--We crossed the room, and this was the hardest part of all! I was simply dying to go for the brute, but the odds were more than two to one. So I set my teeth and swore to myself--feeling--well--_rather_ a fool! He opened a door--not the one we had come by--and said:

"'Ten steps--count them--down--You'll find the handle on your left.

Good night 'e buon' riposo!' and I heard their steps receding behind me. Well--I stumbled down those confounded stairs, fumbled about, found the door and was outside in the night--thanking my stars for such an escape. I didn't waste much time, you can guess--but crossed the court yard at the double, found an alley and bolted down it and out into an empty street. It led into a wider one, and there, by luck, was a pa.s.sing cab. Mercifully, it was dark and not another soul about.

You should have seen the driver's face! I was clad in a torn newspaper with, far below, my patent shoes and a pair of violet silk socks."

He glanced at the Bishop guiltily, and was relieved to see his broad smile and hear Lady Leason's laugh ring out merrily at the picture.

"I bolted into that cab like a hare, crouched down and found a rug--it was open, you see--the usual 'vettura'--and offered the driver untold wealth to gallop straight to the landing stage. Of course, once I reached the boat, the crew paid him and found me some clothes--a coat and a tarpaulin, and in this costume I reached the yacht. My one hope now was to get to my cabin before my friends were aware of my plight.

Luckily they were playing bridge under an awning on the deck.

"We were very quiet and all went well. I dressed quickly and rejoined them, having bought the silence of the crew, who happened to be decent fellows."