The Czars Spy | Page 2

of England as soon
as he returned in the following week. Italy is all very well for nine
months in the year, but Leghorn is no place for the Englishman in
mid-July. My thoughts were wandering toward the English lakes, and a
bit of grouse-shooting with my uncle up in Scotland, when the faithful
Francesco re-entered, saying--
"I've sent the captain and his madman away till this afternoon, signore.
But there is an English signore waiting to see you."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know him. He will give no name, but wants to see the Signor
Console."
"All right, show him in," I said lazily, and a few moments later a tall,
smartly-dressed, middle-aged Englishman, in a navy serge yachting suit,
entered, and bowing, enquired whether I was the British Consul.
When he had seated himself I explained my position, whereupon he
said--
"I couldn't make much out of your clerk. He speaks so brokenly, and I
don't know a word of Italian. But perhaps I ought to first introduce
myself. My name is Philip Hornby," and he handed me a card bearing

the name with the addresses "Woodcroft Park, Somerset ------ Brook's."
Then he added: "I am cruising on board my yacht, the Lola, and last
night we unfortunately went aground on the Meloria. I have a new
captain whom I engaged a few months ago, and he seems an arrant fool.
Very fortunately for us a fishing-boat saw our plight and gave the alarm
at port. The Admiral sent out two torpedo-boats and a tug, and after
about three hours they managed to get us off."
"And you are now in harbor?"
"Yes. But the reason I've called is to ask you to do me a favor and write
me a letter of thanks in Italian to the Admiral, and one to the Captain of
the Port--polite letters that I can copy and send to them. You know the
kind of thing."
"Certainly," I replied, the more interested in him on account of the
curious suspicion that the port authorities seemed to entertain. He was
evidently a gentleman, and after I had been with him ten minutes I
scouted the idea that he had endeavored to cast away the Lola.
I took down a couple of sheets of paper and scribbled the drafts of two
letters couched in the most elegant phraseology, as is customary when
addressing Italian officialdom.
"Fortunately, I left my wife in England, or she would have been terribly
frightened," he remarked presently. "There was a nasty wind blowing
all night, and the fool of a captain seemed to add to our peril by every
order he gave."
"You are alone, then?"
"I have a friend with me," was the answer.
"And how many of the crew are there?"
"Sixteen, all told."
"English, I suppose?"

"Not all. I find French and Italians are more sober than English, and
better behaved in port."
I examined him critically as he sat facing me, and the mere fact of his
desire to send thanks to the authorities convinced me that he was a
well-bred gentleman. He was about forty-five, with a merry round,
good-natured face, red with the southern sun, blue eyes, and a short fair
beard. His countenance was essentially that of a man devoted to
open-air sport, for it was slightly furrowed and weather-beaten as a true
yachtsman's should be. His speech was refined and cultivated, and as
we chatted he gave me the impression that as an enthusiastic lover of
the sea, he had cruised the Mediterranean many times from Gibraltar up
to Smyrna. He had, however, never before put into Leghorn.
After we had arranged that his captain should come to me in the
afternoon and make a formal report of the accident, we went out
together across the white sunny piazza to Nasi's, the well-known
pastry-cook's, where it is the habit of the Livornese to take their
ante-luncheon vermouth.
The more I saw of Hornby, the more I liked him. He was chatty and
witty, and treated his accident as a huge joke.
"We shall be here quite a week, I suppose," he said as we were taking
our vermouth. "We're on our way down to the Greek Islands, as my
friend Chater wants to see them. The engineer says there's something
strained that we must get mended. But, by the way," he added, "why
don't you dine with us on board to-night? Do. We can give you a few
English things that may be a change to you."
This invitation I gladly accepted for two reasons. One was because the
suspicions of the Captain of the Port had aroused my curiosity, and the
other was because I had, honestly speaking, taken a great fancy to
Hornby.
The captain of the Lola, a short,