CHAPTER XIV.

MASTER AND SLAVE.

Lord Maltravers was naturally very much elated at his success in winning Lena Van Hoosen's consent to marry him.

He was really very much in love with the young lady, and intended to settle down and live a quiet life with her.

That he had got rid of Adéle Bellefontaine forever, he did not doubt for a moment.

Everything progressed favorably with him, as his plans gradually approached their fruition.

A few days before that appointed for the marriage, Bambino entered his master's private room, while he was at breakfast.

He sat down with an air of easy familiarity, which was very unusual with him.

"What do you want?" asked Maltravers, looking up from his paper.

"My discharge," replied Bambino.

Lord Maltravers put a glass in his eye and regarded him curiously.

"Your what?" he asked.

"My discharge. Is it necessary for me to repeat it?"

"But, my good fellow, you are my life-long star. I may need you in the future."

"I care not. Let me go."

"Certainly not. If you persist in your determination to leave me, I shall go at once to the Italian Consul, and let him know that Bambino, the escaped murderer, is in New York."

"What then?"

"There is a price on your head."

"Well?"

"You will be sent back to Italy, and pass the remainder of your natural life at the galleys."

"Yes, that's true," said Bambino, calmly.

"Reflect, my friend," continued Maltravers. "However fond you may be of hard work and black bread, however much you may be enamored of the whip of the taskmaster, and notwithstanding the charm a hot sun may have for you, I will venture to say, that my service is more agreeable."

"I wish to quit your service, sigñor."

"And I say again, I will not permit you to do so. It is not always that one can pick up such an accomplished villain as you are."

"Do I suit you so well?"

"So well, that I will not part with you."

"I am a finished villain?" Bambino asked, in a strange voice.

"Perfect in every respect."

"You have no fault to find with me?"

"None."

Bambino smiled quietly, as if pleased with an original idea which had just occurred to him.

"Give me fifty thousand dollars," he exclaimed, "and I will not trouble you any more."

Lord Maltravers started from his chair, and seized a cane.

"Dog," he said, "am I to stand this impertinence?"

"Yes."

"You say 'yes!' do you know of what you are talking?"

Bambino rose and displayed his dagger.

"Cospetto!" he cried. "Touch me not. If you so much as lay your little finger on me, I will stab you to the heart."

Maltravers dropped the cane.

"Oh! decidedly," he said, "I shall have to go to the Italian Consul."

"No, my lord," replied Bambino. "It is I, who will have to go to the British Consul."

Maltravers turned pale with rage.

"Do you threaten _me_, you low scoundrel?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, I do."

"What can you say, except that I hired you to commit a crime--that is, I employed you to kill Jack Harkaway?"

"I shall not go upon that."

"If you did no one would believe you."

"Possibly not," said Bambino, calmly. "But, my lord, suppose I said that you _had a wife alive_."

Again Maltravers changed color perceptibly.

"If you did you would lie," he replied.

"Oh! no. I am perfectly conversant with your little marriage in France."

"Yes. I have talked to you about it, possibly, in my confidential moments."

"More than that--I know where your wife is at this moment, and I can produce her at the altar when you attempt to marry Miss Van Hoosen."

"You villain!"

"My lord," said Bambino, "you do me honor. I feel proud to be so complimented by you."

He bowed low as he spoke, with mock humility.

"Prove what you allege," cried Maltravers, who was intensely excited.

"That's easy enough."

"Begin!"

"It is not necessary for me to show you my cards," returned Bambino. "I can do what I say, and I will do so, unless you buy me off."

"I refuse to do anything of the kind."

"You defy me?"

"I do."

"Perhaps Mr. Harkaway may be more generous."

"Do you threaten me with an appeal to my rival?"

"Yes, my lord," answered Bambino.

Lord Maltravers was beside himself with rage at this insolent defiance, but he controlled himself by the exercise of a violent effort.

"Let us understand one another," he said.

"By all means."

"You allege that you know of the existence of a lady who claims to be my wife, and you further say, that she is in New York and you can produce her at a moment's notice, so as to stop my marriage with Miss Van Hoosen?"

"Precisely."

"And as the price of your silence you require $50,000?"

"That is the sum."

"Where is this girl?" continued his lordship.

"I decline to say."

"What's her name?"

"That you know as well as I do. Will you give me the money?"

"No!"

Bambino shrugged his shoulders, as he advanced to the door.

"Then, all I have to do is to declare war to the knife," he said.

"Yes. You cowardly ruffians always use the knife. I prefer the pistol," replied his lordship.

He went rapidly to an escritoire and drew out an ivory-handled pistol.

"This is my answer to you," he cried.

Bambino shrunk back, but he was unable to avoid the ball which his lordship fired at him.

There was an explosion, a puff of smoke and the crafty Italian fell on the floor, the blood welling from a wound in his head.

Hastily Lord Maltravers placed the pistol in the death-like clutch of his victim.

Then he rung the bell violently.

This tragedy occurred at one of the leading hotels and could not be hushed up.

When the waiter answered the bell, his lordship was perfectly calm.

"This man, my servant," he exclaimed, "has been despondent lately, and because I would not allow him to return to Italy, he has committed suicide. Summon the proprietor of the hotel!"

The servant hastened to do so.

When the proprietor arrived, he was told the same story, which he saw no reason to disbelieve, and, an ambulance being sent for, Bambino was taken to the hospital.

No report was made to the police, and for a wonder no reporter got hold of the circumstance.

Lord Maltravers followed his servant to the hospital, and appeared much concerned about his condition.

After the house surgeon had made an examination he was prepared with his report.

"Is it serious?" inquired Maltravers.

"Very," was the reply.

"Will he live?"

"No. The man will die."

Lord Maltravers could scarcely contain his exultation at this announcement.

"Allow me to ask one more question," he exclaimed.

"With pleasure," answered the house surgeon.

"Will the poor fellow recover consciousness before he expires?"

"Possibly he will. I cannot say positively."

"When do you expect death to ensue?"

"Inside of forty-eight hours."

Lord Maltravers went away, slightly disturbed in his mind. If Bambino recovered consciousness for only a brief period, he might talk. There was danger in that.

If he denounced Lord Maltravers as his murderer, and if he pointed out the place where Adéle Bellefontaine was living, his lordship's newly-found happiness would topple over like a pack of cards built into a house by the hand of a child, whose breath subsequently destroys the frail edifice.

Eagerly he longed for the time to pass. Three times that day he called at the hospital. His last visit was at twelve o'clock. Bambino had not yet spoken.