“You will now be good enough to listen, my Calabressa.”

“I beg your Excellency’s pardon a thousand times.”

“It appears that both mother and daughter are beset with the suspicion that this duty has been put upon their English friend by unfair means.  At first I said to myself these suspicions were foolish; they now appear to me more reasonable.  You, at all events, are acquainted with the old story against Ferdinand Lind; you know how he forfeited his life to the Society; how it was given back to him.  You would think it impossible he would risk such another adventure.  Well, perhaps I wrong him; but there is a possibility; there are powerful reasons, I can gather, why he should wish to get rid of this Englishman.”

Calabressa said nothing now, but he was greatly excited.

“We had been urging him about money, Calabressa mio—­that I will explain to you.  It has been coming in slowest of all from England, the richest of the countries, and just when we had so much need.  Then, again, there is a vacancy in the Council, and Lind has a wish that way.  What happens?  He tries to induce the Englishman to take an officership and give us his fortune; the Englishman refuses; he says then, ’Part from my daughter, and go to America.’  The daughter says, ‘If he goes, I follow.’  You perceive, my friend, that if this story is true, and it is consecutive and minute as I received it, there was a reason for our colleague Lind to be angry, and to be desirous of making it certain that this Englishman who had opposed him should not have his daughter.”

“I perceive it well, Excellenza.  Meanwhile?”

“Meanwhile, that is all.  Only, when an old friend—­when one who has such claims on our Society as a Berezolyi naturally has—­comes and tells you such a story, you listen with attention and respect.  You may believe, or you may not believe; one prefers not to believe when the matter touches upon the faith of a colleague who has been trustworthy for many years.  But at the same time, if the Council, being appealed to, and being anxious above all things that no wrong should be done, were to find an agent—­prudent, silent, cautious—­who might be armed with plenary powers of pardon, for example, supposing there were an accomplice to be bribed—­if the Council were to commission such a one as you, my Calabressa, to institute inquiries, and perhaps to satisfy those two appellants that no injustice has been done, you would undertake the task with diligence, with a sense of responsibility, would you not?”

“With joy—­with a full heart, Excellenza!” Calabressa exclaimed.

“Oh no, not at all—­with prudence and disinterestedness; with calmness and no prejudice; and, above all, with a resolution to conceal from our friend and colleague Lind that any slight of suspicion is being put upon him.”

“Oh, you can trust me, Excellenza!” Calabressa said, eagerly.

“Let me do this for the sake of the sweetheart of my old age—­that is that beautiful-souled little one; and if I cannot bring her peace and security one way—­mind, I go without prejudice—­I swear to you I go without bias—­I will harm no one even in intention—­but this I say, that if I fail that way there is another.”