The Rising Storm

more eager to meet her.'

'They had one setback,' Sir William remarked. 'It was several years ago, round about '82, I think, as it was at the time that a notorious rogue called Giacomo Casanova was living in Naples, and held a part­nership in Goudar's crooked bank. King Ferdinand took a fancy to the lovely Sara Goudar, and rumour has it that she was not unkind to His Majesty. In any case, the Queen found a billet-doux from her in the King's pocket, with the result that the Goudars were promptly sent into exile. But after eighteen months they returned, and ever since have enjoyed such an admirable prosperity that Sara will not even consider an offer for a single night with her if it be less than five hundred guineas.'

It was now getting on for seven o'clock, so Roger thanked Sir William for his valuable information and excused himself to return to Naples. By half-past eight he arrived at Crocielles, supped there and secured the address of the Goudars' house. After what he had heard from Sir William of Madame Goudar's firm adherence to her enormous fee he was far from sanguine about his chances of bringing to fruition the plot he had hatched; but he could think of no other way of securing his own ends, so desperation drove him on to attempt it, and soon after ten he knocked at Goudar's front door.

A negro porter dressed in scarlet livery opened it. On seeing Roger's well-groomed appearance and learning that he was an Englishman who had come from Crocielles the porter made no difficulty about letting him in. A footman took his cloak and hat, asked him to be good enough to leave his sword in the sword-rack, and conducted him upstairs.

He was ushered into a big, comfortably furnished salon. It con­tained only one large table at its far end, and at that, owing to the early hours which were kept in Naples, the game was already in full swing. About a dozen men were seated at it and most of them wore broad-brimmed straw hats, which looked incongruous in conjunction with their satin clothes, but were part of the stock-in-trade of such places, as they shaded the eyes of the gamblers from the strong light thrown from the multi-branched pair of candelabra on the table. On a sofa at the end of the room nearest the door a lady was sitting, holding a small court of four cavaliers, but as Roger entered she at once stood up, left them and came over to greet him.

She curtsied, he made a leg, then introduced himself. As he did so he had no doubt at all that he was addressing the remarkable Sara. Her hair was beautifully coiffured and powdered, so he could not tell if it was black, but in all other respects she possessed the typical colour­ing of an Irish colleen. Her eyes were a midnight blue, her lips cherry red, her brows arched and dark, her skin fresh, and her cheeks held a rosy flush that art might have added to but could not have simulated. Her figure was well rounded; and if she was on the wrong side of thirty, as from what Sir William had said she must be, she certainly did not look it. Roger agreed with the diplomat's estimate that she was an out­standingly handsome woman.

She had greeted him in French, which she spoke almost as fluently as himself, so for a few minutes he conversed with her in that language. With long-practised skill she plumbed him with the utmost discretion on his visit to Naples and his acquaintances there. Then, quickly satis­fied by his air of breeding and casual mention of a few of the leading families, she led him over to the gaming table and introduced him to her husband.

Goudar was holding the bank. He was a small, sharp-featured man, with a guilelessly innocent expression. After bowing politely to Roger he gave him a swift appraising glance, then waved him to a chair. Roger pulled out a fistful of gold ducats, put them on the table, and was dealt a hand of cards in the next round. He had not the least desire to play, but felt that to win the goodwill that was so imperative to the success of his plan he must lose a certain amount for the good of the house.

As so frequently happens in such cases, he positively could not lose. He was very far from being one of the highest players at the table, so Goudar showed no particular interest in him, obviously regarding him as one of the casual visitors to Naples who was no true gambler but just liked an occasional flutter, and normally left a score or so of ducats behind which helped to pay the running expenses of the establishment. When such people went away in pocket they usually came another night and lost their winnings with a bit more in addition. When they did not they were a good advertisement to the place and its proprietor's apparent honesty.

After an hour's play Roger found himself nearly forty ducats to the good, so deciding not to waste any more time he picked up his winnings and left the table.

Madame Goudar had from time to time been over to see how Fortune was treating the gamblers. She now got up at once and came to meet Roger. With a charming smile she said: 'Monsieur is in luck tonight. But he will come again to give my husband his revenge; is it not so?'

Roger returned the smile, but shook his head. 'Alas, Madame, my time in Naples is short; yet, all the same, I would not have you be the loser by my visit.' Then, taking her hand, he poured the fistful of gold that he had won into it, and added: 'These are to buy roses for you, Madame; but no roses that you can buy will equal those you already carry in your cheeks.'

Her blue eyes lit with swift appreciation of his gesture and compli­ment; then with a modesty all the more fascinating from being un­expected, she veiled them with her long, dark, curling lashes, and murmured: 'Ca'cest tres gentill, Monsieur.’

'Won, Madame; c'est une tribute juste' replied Roger.

Suddenly she lifted her eyes and asked shrewdly: 'Why do you do this, Monsieur? You are both young and handsome, and men who are that are rarely rich.'

'Because I would crave a few words with you apart, Madame.'

She smiled again, and beckoned him to a smaller settee, out of ear­shot of both the gaming table and the big sofa round which she had been holding her little court of changing men ever since Roger had arrived. As they sat down she said quite simply: 'You wish to make your suit with me?'

'Nay, Madame,' he replied frankly. 'Were I to be longer in Naples I would be greatly tempted to haunt your doorstep until you either gave in or drove me from it; but tonight I come to plead the suit of another.'

He caught her glance of surprise, but went on quickly: 'I have reason to believe that Don Diego de Sidonia y Ulloa is quite mad about you, yet you are so stony-hearted as to treat him with disdain.'

Instantly she stiffened, and asked: 'Is he, then, a friend of yours?'

'Hardly that, Madame. No more than an acquaintance; yet I am vastly concerned that you should regard his suit with greater kindness.'

'Why should I?' she replied, with a hard note in her voice. 'I am no ordinary courtesan, to jump into bed at any man's bidding. Time was when I had to oblige certain of our best patrons, but thank God 'tis no longer so. At a price I am still willing to consider giving myself to a man from whom I shall derive little pleasure, providing he be reason­ably personable. Don Diego fails to raise a flicker in me, and so far he has come up to only half the price I ask. Why should I put myself out to oblige that stiff-necked Spaniard?'

'Madame, I have a genuine appreciation of your feelings,' Roger murmured tactfully. 'As you have guessed, I am unfortunately by no means rich myself. Otherwise I would offer to make up the price you demand. As it is I can only cast myself on your good nature. I beg you, as the greatest possible favour to myself, to accept the sum he offers, and give him an assignation for tomorrow night.'

She gave him a cynical little smile, then began to laugh. 'I see it now. You are in love with that equally stiff- necked black-browed wife of his, and want me to take care of him so that the coast is clear for you to get into his house.'

Roger grinned at her. 'Madame, it would ill become me to admit it; but if you choose to think that the reason for my request, I should be hard put to it to prove you wrong.'

Sara Goudar shook her head. 'Nay, Monsieur. You have afforded me much amusement, but I am no philanthropist. The Spaniard can well afford to pay, so if he wants me let him disgorge his ducats. As for yourself, love is the best of locksmiths and time brings opportunity. If you have an urge to enjoy his wife, good fortune to you.'

'Alas, you have named my trouble,' Roger said sadly. 'I am de­barred the benefits with which time so often rewards her patient votaries. I am under orders to leave Naples within thirty hours, and 'tis tomorrow night or never.'

Again she shook her head, now a little impatiently. ' 'Tis my time and your own that you are wasting, Monsieur, in this profitless con­versation. I see no reason whatever why I should incommode myself to further the amours of people who are of no account to me.'

Roger now feared that he was bowling against an impregnable wicket, but he pulled his last trick. Taking her