The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ pistol, and his finger on the trigger, uttered a scream of terror, and fell flat on the ground. Before the rest could discover the cause of the outcry, a shout from outside of “The Police!” “The Gendarmes!” was heard, and Dr. Grounsell rushed into the garden, followed by several dismounted dragoons. In an instant all were away. Norwood sprang over a low balcony into a vineyard; while in various directions the others scampered off, leaving Purvis alone upon the field.

      But too happy to have fallen into the safe keeping of the authorities, Purvis accepted his captivity with a most placid contentment.

      “Where’s Captain Onslow? Have you seen him, sir?” whispered Grounsell to him.

      “I have seen everybody, but I don’t re-remember anything. It’s all a dr-dr-dream to me.”

      “There was no duel? They hadn’t fought?” asked Grounsell.

      “I – I – I think not; pro-pro-probably not,” said Purvis, whose faculties were still very cloudy.

      Grounsell turned away from him in disdain, and entered the house. To all his inquiries from the waiters of the inn the answers were vague and insufficient, nor could the doctor discover either what had occurred, or the reasons of the long delay on the ground. Meanwhile the Carabinieri, stimulated by liberal promises of reward, were searching the park in every quarter, and scouring the country around to arrest the fugitives; and the peasantry, enlisted in the pursuit, hastened hither and thither to aid them. Whether really unable to come up with them, or, as is more probable, concurring in the escape through bribery, the dragoons returned to the inn after about an hour’s absence, without the capture of a single prisoner.

      Grounsell cursed their Italian indolence, and reviled every institution of their lazy land. How he raved about foreign falsehood and rascality, and wished for a London detective and a magistrate of Bow Street! Never did Lord Palmerston so thirst to implant British institutions in a foreign soil, as did he to teach these “macaroni rascals what a good police meant.” What honest indignation did he not vent upon English residents abroad, who, for sake of a mild climate and lax morality, could exchange their native country for the Continent; and at last, fairly worn out with his denunciations, he sat down on a bench, tired and exhausted.

      “Will you t-t-tell them to let me go?” cried Purvis. “I’ve done nothing. I never do anything. My name is Purvis, – Sc-Sc-Scroope Purvis, – bro-brother to Mrs. Ricketts, of the Villino Zoe.”

      “Matters which have no possible interest for me, sir,” growled out Grounsell; “nor am I a corporal of gendarmes, to give orders for your liberation.”

      “But they ‘ll take me to – to prison!” cried Purvis.

      “With all my heart, sir, so that I be not your fellow captive,” rejoined the doctor, angrily, and left the spot; while the police, taking as many precautions for securing Purvis as though he had been a murderer or a house-breaker, assisted him into a calèche, and, seated one on either side of him, with their carbines unslung, set out for Florence.

      “They’ll take me for Fr-Fr-Fra Diavolo, if I enter the city in this fashion,” cried Purvis; but certainly his rueful expression might have belied the imputation.

      Grounsell sat down upon a grassy bench beside the road, overcome with fatigue and disappointment. From the hour of his arrival in Florence, he had not enjoyed one moment of rest. On leaving Lady Hester’s chamber he had betaken himself to Sir Stafford’s apartment; and there, till nigh daybreak, he sat, breaking the sad tidings of ruin to his old friend, and recounting the terrible story of disasters which were to crush him into poverty. Thence he hastened to George Onslow’s room; but he was already gone. A few minutes before he had started with Norwood for Pratolino, and all that remained for Grounsell was to inform the police of the intended meeting, while he himself, wisely suspecting that nothing could go forward in Florence unknown to Jekyl, repaired to that gentleman’s residence at once.

      Without the ceremony of announcement, Grounsell mounted the stairs, and opened the door of Jekyl’s apartment, just as its owner had commenced the preparations for his breakfast. There was an almost Spartan simplicity in the arrangements, which might have made less composed spirits somewhat abashed and ill at ease. The little wooden platter of macaroni, the small coffee-pot of discolored hue and dinged proportions, the bread of Ethiopian complexion, and the bunch of shrivelled grapes offered a meal irreproachable on the score of either costliness or epicurism. But Jekyl, far from feeling disconcerted at their exposure to a stranger’s eyes, seemed to behold them with sincere satisfaction, and with a most courteous smile welcomed the doctor to Florence, and thanked him for the very polite attention of so early a visit.

      “I believe I ought to apologize for the unseasonable hour, sir,” blundered out Grounsell, who was completely thrown off his balance by this excessive urbanity; “but the cause must plead for me.”

      “Any cause which has conferred the honor on me is sure of being satisfactory. Pray come nearer the table. You ‘ll find that macaroni eat better than it looks. The old Duke de Montmartre always recommended macaroni to be served on wood. His maxim was, ‘Keep the “plat d’argent” for a mayonnaise or a galantine.’”

      “Excuse me if I cannot join you, sir. Nothing but a matter of extreme importance could warrant my present intrusion. I only reached this city a few hours back, and I find everything at the Mazzarini Palace in a state of discord and confusion. Some are questions for time and consideration; others are more immediately pressing. One of these is this affair of George Onslow’s. Who is he about to meet, and for what?”

      “His antagonist is a very agreeable young man; quite a gentleman, I assure you, attached to the French mission here, and related to the ‘Morignys,’ whom you must have met at ‘Madame Parivaux’s’ formerly.”

      “Never heard of one of them, sir. But what’s the quarrel?”

      “It originated, I believe, in some form of disputation, – an altercation,” simpered Jekyl, as he sweetened and sipped his coffee.

      “A play transaction, – a gambling affair, eh?”

      “I fancy not; Count Guilmard does not play.”

      “So far, so good,” said Grounsell. “Now, sir, how is it to be arranged? – what settlement can be effected? I speak to you frankly, perhaps bluntly, Mr. Jekyl, for my nature has few sympathies with courteous ambiguities. Can this business be accommodated without a meeting?”

      Jekyl shook his head, and gave a soft, plaintive little sigh.

      “Is friendly interference out of the question, sir?”

      Another shake of the head, and a sigh.

      “Is there any law in the country? Can the police do nothing?”

      “The frontiers are always easily accessible,” simpered Jekyl, as he stole a look at his watch.

      “Ay, to be sure,” broke in Grounsell, indignantly; “the very geography of the Continent assists this profligacy, and five paces over an imaginary boundary gives immunity in a case of murder! Well, sir, come along with me to the place of meeting. It is just possible that we may be of some service even yet.”

      “Nothing could be more agreeable to me than the opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance, Dr. Grounsell; but I have already sent off a few lines to Lord Norwood, to apologize for my absence, – a previous engagement.”

      “What! at this hour of the morning, sir!” burst out Grounsell.

      “Even СКАЧАТЬ