The carriage halted and the dark man with the revolver jumped out first. Della was then passed down to him. She was at once beset by the wind and rain as she stood a prisoner, on what was surely a wharf. Barsini and Irma joined them and the carriage drove away.
“This way,” the dark man said and took her by the arm as he led her across the wharf.
They came to a fairly large yacht and the dark man stood by while she took the long step down to its deck and then joined her. The others followed. The craft was shrouded in darkness except for light which showed at the portholes of the cabin below.
After descending several wooden steps she was in a large lavishly decorated cabin with mahogany moulding and woodwork and crimson wallpaper in an intricate pattern. Two oil lamps swung from the ceiling of the cabin and gave the room a warm amber glow.
The dark man shoved her into a chair and then left to go back on deck while Barsini and her sister took their places between her and the only exit.
Barsini said, “Now we will have our talk!”
“I can tell you nothing,” she said.
Irma came close to her, her face pale and tormented. She said, “Don’t be a fool, Della! I don’t want to see you die!”
Della said, “You let them murder Raphael!”
Her sister gave the evil Barsini a glance. “I know. And I have felt like his murderess ever since!”
Barsini smiled in his cold manner. “Raphael questioned my methods. I do not allow that.”
Irma turned to her again. “He is mad with greed for the Madonna. Raphael tried to persuade him that you knew nothing about it. Being with you, he came to believe that!”
“It’s true!” Della said.
Barsini said nothing but sneered at her. Irma pleaded with her, “Don’t make him kill you as well! The guilt of it will send me into madness! I’m partway there now!”
“You threw in your lot with Barsini knowing what he is like,” Della said.
Irma knelt by her frantically. “And I know you have to be lying. You do have that Madonna. Borgo came to the palace and I gave it to him in a wrapped package. The Madonna was concealed within a jewel box. He had his tickets and money for the London journey. And he told me he was then going to hide out in Paris. I saw him to the door and he was waiting for a carriage when I left him and went upstairs.”
Barsini spoke harshly: “You’re wasting time!”
“Let me explain to her that there’s no point in lying,” Irma said.
“Be quiet or I’ll lock you in the other cabin,” the bald man snapped at her. The dispirited Irma gave a deep sigh and went to throw herself on a cushioned sofa in the corner of the cabin behind Della.
Della looked up at the evil Satanist as he loomed over her. “I can tell you nothing!”
“We’ll see,” he gloated. “And don’t think anyone will hear your screams for mercy. We are now well out on the Tiber and while the river is narrow at this point, no sounds from inside the cabin will reach the shore.”
She said nothing but realized he had told the truth. The sound of the yacht’s engine could be heard and the craft was plainly in motion. No doubt the dark man had taken over the controls.
“Why not kill me and be done with it,” she said dully. Her wet dressing gown was clinging to her naked body. She was miserably cold and wet.
“I have better plans for you,” the bearded Barsini said smoothly. He crossed to a table and brought back a metal object which was grimly familiar to her. He held it lovingly in his hands and said, “This belonged to someone you knew.”
“Father Anthony,” she said in a low voice as she stared at the thing in horror.
“The thumbscrew,” Barsini said. “He intended to use it on you but was robbed of the opportunity. I promise you we will not be interrupted this time!”
From the sofa Irma pleaded with her, “Tell him anything you can!”
Barsini looked ominously amused. “She will do that, have no fear!”
She stared at the wicked-looking torture weapon and prayed that she might fall into unconsciousness as soon as it was used. She wondered about Henry, who had been stretched out motionless on the bed when she’d last seen him. How badly had he been injured?
Barsini’s cold voice penetrated her reverie, as he asked, “What were you doing at the Vatican Museum?”
“It had nothing to do with you,” she said.
“Did you return the Madonna to them? Were you fool enough to do that?” His rising anger showed in his tone.
She met his gaze sternly and said, “I would if I had it!”
He nodded in a grim manner. “Would you?” he asked with sarcasm. “Well, perhaps we can make you talk a different tune!”
“It was stolen from the Church,” she said. “That is where it belongs.”
Barsini carefully placed the thumbscrew on the small table by her and then reached out and gripped her hand and fitted it into the torture instrument. He held the hand in place and gave her a meaningful look.
“Shall we begin?” he asked. “Or do you want to be sensible and tell me what you know?”
“Tell him!” Irma pleaded from where she sat.
“Let us begin,” Barsini gloated, and with his free hand tightened the torture weapon.
For a moment she didn’t realize what was happening and then a surge of the most excruciating pain she had ever known shot through her hand. It was like biting flame or a host of daggers! She gave a loud moan.
Barsini laughed and said, “Now I think you better understand your position here!” And he relaxed the pressure of the instrument, leaving her hand somewhat relieved yet still paining acutely. He asked, “Will you talk or had we better try it again?”
She had no chance to answer. For at that moment a shot rang out on the deck above them. Irma jumped to her feet and cried out in fear. Barsini let go of the torture device so that she was able to extricate her pain-wracked hand from it. The bald man stepped back behind her and next to Irma and drew a revolver from his coat pocket.
Della realized that he had deliberately taken a stand behind her to use her as a shield. And at the same time she made up her mind to hurl herself quickly to the floor if there was any exchange of gunfire.
She had not long to wait. The door at the other end of the cabin burst open and there in a wide-brimmed black hat and cloak stood the thin man with wispy beard whom she had come to know as Brizzi! Brizzi, the superthief, who had begun it all!
Barsini let out an oath and fired at Brizzi. The man in the black hat and cloak seemed to dodge and Della threw herself down on the floor as she’d planned. Almost in the same second Brizzi fired twice and both Barsini and her sister slumped down onto the floor with blood spurting from what must surely be mortal wounds. They lay silent without a move.
Then Brizzi, his revolver still in hand, came cautiously over to her and said, “Get up!”
She obeyed him and then said, “My sister!”
“She’s dead and so is Barsini,” he said with scorn. And it was then she saw that he had been hit in the area of the left shoulder and the wound was bleeding badly. Barsini had nearly finished him with that first shot. By missing, the Satanist had lost his chance to live, and had cost Irma her life as well.
“Can I go to her,” she pleaded, hoping by some chance Irma might be alive.
“No time!” Brizzi snapped, then seemed to sway a little. “To the steps and be ready to swim!”
She went to the steps and looked back to see him take one of. the lamps and send it crashing to the floor. It exploded and great flames rose hungrily from the spilled oil. He did the same with a second lamp and by this time the cabin was a blazing inferno from which he turned and fled.
He collided with her and forced her up the steps to the deck. She saw they were perhaps a hundred yards from the shore. He was taking off his cloak and hat and kicking off his shoes.
“Jump with me!” he ordered her. “The flames will reach the engine room and the oil tanks will blow her up!”
She hesitated by the rail of the yacht and gazed down at the dark, cold water. “I’m afraid!” she pressed her hands to her cheeks to try and ward off her growing hysteria.
“Can you swim?”
“Yes.”
“Then jump! Don’t be a fool!”
She glanced back and saw the smoke pouring out of the cabin doors and the flames already cutting through the cabin roof. She knew there would be a dreadful explosion in a moment!”
Brizzi grasped her with his good arm and literally flung her into the river and then jumped in himself. They both began to swim away from the doomed yacht. A few seconds later there was a great roar and flaming debris was scattered all around them. She kept on swimming, praying that she might reach the river bank.
The burning debris that remained on the surface of the water was behind her now. She looked back once and there was only the dark sky; the yacht had vanished as if it had never existed.
Now she called out to Brizzi and received no answer. She felt panic at being alone but there was no sight of him. She forced herself to swim on after deciding that he must have been hit by some of the flying debris and stunned so that he’d drowned! It struck her as ironical! The whole thing became a macabre fantasy in her mind as she struggled on, knowing she was growing weaker every moment. Soon it would be at an end, she would be too weak to fight, and it would be over!
She was only vaguely aware of the sound of an approaching motor vessel. Nor did she know its spotlight had caught her head bobbing in the rough, cold water. The boat came close and hands lifted her into it. Not until then did she finally collapse.
She came to in a modest office stretched out on a cot. And Henry Clarkson was standing beside her. When he saw her open her eyes he bent down and kissed her.
She struggled weakly to an elbow and looked around to see police officers gravely watching. She said, “Brizzi! Did they get him?”
“Brizzi?” Henry asked.
“The superthief,” she went on frantically. “He was in the water with me. He blew up the yacht!”
Henry glanced at the senior police officer and asked him, “Did your men save anyone else from the river?”
The police officer shook his head. “Just the
signorina!
”
“You were the only survivor,” Henry said.
“Then he drowned when the ship blew up. Something must have hit him!”
“Very likely,” Henry agreed. “I saw the explosion, and the flaming debris raining down right afterward. The yacht sank at once!”
“And you?” she said, struggling to a sitting position. “I thought they had killed you!”
“I have a hard head,” the young lawyer said with a smile. “Though I admit they did it no good.”
“How did you know where to look for me?”
“As soon as I came around I called the police,” Henry said. “I remembered that Raphael was supposed to be murdered on a yacht so I thought of you being taken prisoner on one.”
“It was a marvelous guess!” she enthused.
“The police drove down to Barsini’s villa and the wharf by it. The yacht was not there but we saw a craft out in the river which we decided must be it. But before we got out there it blew up. We barely managed to come along in time to save you!”
“I was ready to give up,” she said soberly. Then memory of what happened flooded back and she shuddered. “It was awful!”
Henry apologized, “I’m afraid you’ll have to go over it for the police.”
She nodded and after a moment began, “They took me on board the ship. There were three: Barsini, the dark man and my sister. Irma was upset over Raphael’s murder and tried to plead with Barsini to go easy with me. He wouldn’t listen to her!”
Henry said, “The captain is taking it all down. Barsini was his usual villainous self. Please go on.”
“He asked me for the Madonna and when I couldn’t tell him where it was, he brought out a torture device to crush my hand. He used it once on me and was about to use it again when there was a scuffle on the deck and the sound of a shot. Brizzi must have shot the dark man.”
“And?” Henry said.
“Barsini brought out a gun and took a stand behind me with Irma at his side. There was no place for them to retreat. He covered the cabin door with his gun, his only hope to kill the intruder when he came in. Brizzi came bursting through the door, Barsini fired at him, but Brizzi dodged and while he was badly wounded in the shoulder it was not a fatal wound. I dropped to the floor as Brizzi opened fire and hit Barsini first and then Irma.”
Henry said, “And he killed them?”
“Both,” she said in a taut voice. “He is an excellent shot. Then he helped me up and told me to get out of the cabin and jump into the water. He crashed the lamps and set the yacht ablaze. Then he joined me on the deck and prepared to swim. He forced me into the water. I saw him until the explosion. After that he was missing.”
Henry said, “It looks as if they killed each other off. None of them left.”
“I’d say so,” she agreed. “And the Madonna still missing.”
“I think there must be a curse on it,” the young lawyer said.
“I’m ready to agree,” Della sighed.
The police captain had her statement written down in long hand and he carefully read it back to her. She made a few corrections and additions and he promised to file his report in the morning. Then she and Henry were driven home in one of the official police vehicles.
Alone in the carriage they talked about it all. She said, “I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to Prince Sanzio.”
“He has to know,” Henry said.
“I know,” she sighed. “I feel badly enough losing a sister I’ve known for only a short time and who behaved badly enough in that time. But he has lost a daughter whom he raised over the years and came to love. A girl who was good in character until she was taken over by Barsini.”
“It will be hard on him,” the man at her side agreed. “Even poor little Guido will feel very badly.”
“I’d almost forgotten him,” she said. “Of course you are right.”
“After we settle with the police tomorrow, as I expect they’ll want to ask a few more questions, we must pack and go straight back to London.”
“I can’t get there quickly enough,” Della said sincerely. “Rome has not been a happy place for me.”
“Your aunt will not believe her good luck. She’s been wanting to leave almost from the moment she arrived,” Henry said.