Adventure stories; British -- Portugal -- Fiction; Lisbon (Portugal) -- Fiction; Love stories
“I will answer for her as for myself. I know her to be innocent of
any wrong, and that she is about to leave the country. I am indeed
interested in making arrangements for her to do so.”
Pia moved restlessly and was about to protest, I think, so I placed my
hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes: “You will bear out what
I say?”
To deny would compromise me, and that I was sure she would not do.
After a slight pause, she said simply: “That is so.”
At my mention of Volheno’s name the Governor had scribbled a line and
handed it to a subordinate who took it away.
“I am compelled to protest against this, your Excellency,” said the
captain at this point. “And having made this protest, I will, with your
permission, return to my duties.”
“The matter has taken a very grave turn, Captain Moros; you will be
good enough to remain until we know more. This may be serious for you.”
The subordinate returned then and handed a packet to the Governor who
whispered with him, and sent him away again. “I find that you gave your
name on being brought in last night, Mr. Donnington. Here is what was
found upon you. I shall return all except a paper which I may have to
deal with differently. I revoke both sentences.”
This was, of course, the confession of Gompez and the rest. “May I
ask that some of the money may be used to buy food for the wretched
prisoners in that cell?”
He granted the request and sent some one away for the purpose.
“I have telephoned to M. Volheno, and have no doubt, from what he
says, that all is as you represent. He desires to see you as soon as
possible.”
“May we go then? I have had no food since yesterday morning.”
“There is still one formality,” he replied. He turned then to Captain
Moros and said something which made the brute go white and set him
trembling, as he protested. But the protest was evidently unavailing,
and after some further words, he rose and went out at the back of
the room. I learnt afterwords that he was made the scapegoat for my
treatment and dismissed from his position.
Just as this incident ended, the door by which we had entered opened
and another prisoner was brought in. To my amazement I saw it was
Bryant.
“Do you recognize any one here, prisoner?” the Governor asked him.
Bryant stared all round. “Only my master, Mr. Donnington.”
“Was that the formality, your Excellency?” I asked.
“M. Volheno said you two were to be confronted, and I had no option but
to do so. You are now at liberty to leave.”
“And my servant?”
“Certainly. I trust you will let this most regrettable and
unintelligible series of mistakes pass out of your mind. Here are the
things taken from you--the paper I am sending to M. Volheno. And now,”
he added, as he offered me his hand; “I shall be glad if at some time
convenient to yourself you will afford me an opportunity of discussing
with you the matter in which you so interested my brother.”
Pia was at a loss what to do. So I laid my hand on her arm. “Come,” I
said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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