Chapter 9. M. Dalny Plans A Tragedy

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_ CHAPTER IX. M. DALNY PLANS A TRAGEDY

Darrin meets one of the men he is looking for. As a result of that meeting he and Dan are sentenced to death.

"Say, I wonder if these people call this a square deal," muttered Danny Grin, as he surveyed the dish that the waiter had just left for him. "I called for ham and eggs and potatoes, and the fellow has brought me chicken and this dish of vegetables that none but a native could name."

"Call the waiter back and ask him to explain his mistake," Ensign Darrin suggested, smilingly.

"I can't talk their lingo," returned Dalzell plaintively.

"Nor can I speak much of it, either," admitted Dave.

"Can you speak any Italian?"

"Only a little, and very badly at that."

"Where did you learn Italian?" demanded Danny Grin.

"From an Italian-American cook on board our ship," Darrin explained.

"Whew! You must have done that while I was asleep," Dalzell complained.

"I don't know enough Italian to carry me very far," laughed Darrin. "Perhaps between two and three hundred useful words, and some of the parts of a few verbs. Let me see just what you thought you were ordering."

Dan held out a somewhat soiled bill of fare on which the names of the dishes were printed in Italian and English.

"I tried to pronounce the Italian words right," Dan went on, with a grimace.

"Let me hear you read the words over again," Dave begged.

Dan did so, his comrade's smile deepening.

"Dan," said Dave dryly, "you speak Italian as though it were French. Italian is too delicate a language for that treatment."

"But what am I to do about this chicken?" Danny Grin persisted.

"Eat it," suggested Darrin, "and use some of your time ashore in getting closer to the Italian language."

Dave was served with just what he had ordered for a pleasing meal--an omelet, spaghetti and Neapolitan tomatoes, with dessert to follow.

"I'm no great admirer of chicken, and I did want ham," sighed Dan, as he glanced enviously at his chum's dainty food. Nevertheless Ensign Dalzell ate his meal with an air of resignation that greatly amused Dave Darrin.

The restaurant was one of the largest and handsomest to be found along that great thoroughfare of Naples, the Riviera di Chiaja. The place would seat perhaps four hundred guests. At this hour of the day there were about half that number of persons present, many of whom were Americans.

The chums had succeeded in obtaining a small table by themselves, close to an open window that overlooked the sidewalk.

Watching the throngs that passed, both on foot and in carriages of many types, the young naval officers felt certain that at no other point could they obtain as good a general view of the city of Naples. Many well-to-do Italians were afoot, having sold their carriages and automobiles in order to buy the war bonds of their country. As there were several Italian warships in port, sailors from these craft were ashore and mingling with the throng. Soldiers home on sick leave from the Austrian frontier were to be seen. Other men, who looked like mere lads, wore new army uniforms proudly. These latter were the present year's recruits, lately called to the colors and drilling for the work that lay ahead of them, work in deadly earnest against hated Austria.

All that went on before the cafe was interesting enough. It was not, however, until near the end of the meal that anything happened of personal interest to Dave and Dan.

Then there was a quick step behind them, next a voice cried gaily:

"My dear Monsieur Darrin, who could have expected to see you here?"

"Any one who knew that my ship is in the harbor might have expected to see me here," replied Dave, rising and smiling. "How do you do, Monsieur le Comte?"

It was indeed the Count of Surigny, and that dapper, well-set-up young Frenchman was nattily dressed, smiling, and with an unmistakable air of prosperity about him.

Dan had also risen. Then as the three seated themselves Dave inquired what refreshment his friend of Monte Carlo would allow them the pleasure of ordering for him. The Count asked only for a cup of coffee, after which the chat went merrily on.

"My dear Darrin, I rejoice to be able to tell you that I have determined never again to visit Monte Carlo," said the Count. "Moreover, I am prosperous and happy. Ah, what a debt of gratitude I owe you! I know you must be wondering why I am not serving my country in the trenches."

"I knew you must have some good reason for not serving in the French army at such a time," Dave replied.

"I tried to enter the army," Surigny replied, "but the surgeons refused to pass me. One of my eyes is too weak, and there is, besides, some little irregularity in the action of my heart that would make it impossible for me to endure the hardships of a soldier. So, despite my protests and entreaties, the surgeons have refused to accept me for military service."

"Is it permitted to ask if you have found employment?" Dave inquired.

"I have found employment of a sort," the Count rattled on, without a shade of embarrassment. "It might be questioned if I am worth the remuneration which I receive, but at least I am happy. I am permitted to serve a friend in some little matters of a personal nature."

That answer was enough to prevent Dave from making any further inquiries as to the Count's new means of a livelihood.

"It gives me the greatest happiness to be able to see you again, and to hear your voice," continued the Count. "I am here in Naples only as a matter of accident, and it may be that my stay here will be short. I was at a table in the rear with a friend when I espied you sitting here. Is it permitted that I bring my friend over and present him?"

"We shall be delighted to meet any friend of yours, Surigny," Dave replied pleasantly.

"Then I shall bring him here at once," replied the Frenchman, lightly, rising and moving rapidly away.

"I wonder what line of work the Count can be in now," mused Dalzell, aloud. "It would appear to be something that pays him very well and allows him to travel. I wonder if the friend he is to introduce to us is the one that employs him."

"We shall know that if Count Surigny chooses to inform us," smiled Dave.

Then their talk ceased, for they heard the Count's voice in conversation with some one as he came up behind them.

"My dear Monsieur Darrin," cried the Count, "I am honored in being able to present to you Monsieur Dalny."

Ensign Darrin rose, wheeled and thrust out his hand. Then his eyes turned to the newcomer's face.

Nor could the young naval officer repress a slight start, for M. Dalny was unmistakably one of the two men whom he had overheard on the veranda of the Casino at Monte Carlo.

"Monsieur Darrin," replied M. Dalny, accepting Dave's hand, "I feel that I am indeed honored in being able to meet one who, I understand, has been such a friend to my friend the Count of Surigny. I shall hope to see much of you."

Dalny was then introduced to Dalzell, after which, at Dave's invitation, the newcomers seated themselves. Fresh coffee was ordered.

But Dave Darrin's head was now in a good deal of a whirl.

As to the identity of M. Dalny, there could be no mistake whatever. And here was the Count of Surigny, evidently in the friendship of this plotter against the American Navy. It was not unlikely that the Count, too, was in the employ of this enemy of the United States.

"What can this whole thing mean, and does Surigny _know_ that he is working against the peace and honor of my country?" Dave asked himself, his pulses throbbing.

"Are you to be here long at Naples, Monsieur Darrin?" Dalny soon asked in his most velvet-like tones.

"I really haven't the least idea, Monsieur Dalny," Dave replied truthfully, forcing a smile. "I am not deep in the confidence of Admiral Timworth."

"I thought it very likely," purred Monsieur Dalny, "that you might have heard from your officers as to how many days of shore liberty are likely to be granted your sailors."

"Oh, probably we shall--" began Dan, who found the French conversation easy to understand in this instance.

But the slightest of signs from Darrin was sufficient to check Dalzell's intended statement. So Danny Grin merely finished:

"Probably we shall hear soon how long our stay here is to be."

"Are you interested, Monsieur Dalny, in the length of our stay here?" queried Ensign Dave, gazing carelessly into the eyes of the stranger.

"Oh, it is but a matter of idle curiosity to me," replied the other, shrugging his shoulders amiably. "Just as you understand it would be a matter of a little curiosity, my dear Monsieur Darrin, to know whether the American fleet now in the harbor here will keep together for the next few weeks, and what ports you will visit. But I imagine that you have, as yet, no information on such points."

Dave did not reply to M. Dalny's remarks, who, however, did not appear to notice the omission. Drawing forth a long cigar and lighting it, Dalny puffed away, seeming to prefer, after that, to listen to the conversation of the others.

"Who can this Monsieur Dalny be?" Dave asked himself, racking his brain. "And of what nationality? The word 'Monsieur' is French in itself, though Dalny is hardly a French name. Perhaps it makes little difference, though, for men who sell their time and services as I am afraid this Dalny fellow is doing, are quite likely to masquerade under assumed names."

Presently M. Dalny excused himself for a few moments. Sauntering toward the rear of the restaurant, he stepped into a side passage, then made a quick entrance into a private room, the door of which he instantly locked. He now crossed the room and stood before the solitary diner in that room.

"My dear Mender!" cried Dalny.

"Your face betrays interest, Dalny," remarked the other, who was the older of the pair whom Dave had heard on the Casino veranda.

"And I am interested," continued Dalny, in a low tone. "I have met the two young officers from the American flagship."

"That is what you are here to do," smiled Monsieur Mender.

"The fellow Darrin refuses me any information about the movements of the American fleet."

"That was perhaps to be expected," answered Mender reflectively.

"But I fear matters are worse than that," Dalny went on hurriedly.

"Explain yourself, Dalny."

"Darrin did not see my face until he rose to greet me, when Surigny introduced us," continued Dalny. "Then he started, slightly, yet most plainly. Monsieur Mender, that young American naval officer knows something about us."

"Not very likely, Dalny."

"Then he at least suspects something."

"Why should he?"

"Monsieur Mender," hurried on Dalny, "you recall that evening on the Casino veranda at Monte Carlo? You and I, as we approached a little grove of potted trees, talked rather more incautiously than we should have done."

"It was an indiscretion, true," nodded the white-haired Mender thoughtfully.

"And, afterwards, as you know, I told you I thought I heard someone move behind those little trees."

"And so--?"

"I suspect, Monsieur Mender, that it was Ensign Darrin, of the battleship 'Hudson,' who stood behind those trees, and who overheard us."

"I wish I knew if such were the case," replied M. Mender huskily, his face paling with anxiety.

"If Darrin overheard our talk, he doubtless reported it to his superior officers," declared Dalny.

"Unquestionably--if he really heard," admitted Mender.

"Then that pair of young officers, for they are close friends, must have been sent ashore to see if they could get track of the numerous party whom you direct, my dear Monsieur Mender."

"You believe that the two young American officers are ashore in Naples as spies upon us?" questioned Mender, his tone cold and deadly.

"It would seem so," Dalny answered readily.

"In that case--" began Mender, slowly, then paused.

"In that case--what?" demanded Dalny, after waiting a few moments while his chief reflected.

"It would mean that the Italian authorities, as soon as informed of what is suspected against us, would send out their keenest men to locate us, and then we should be arrested."

"What could be done to us?" queried Dalny.

"In these war days not very much evidence is required against men who are accused of being spies, my excellent Dalny. We might or we might not be accorded a trial, but one thing is quite sure; we would be shot to death on the charge of being spies."

As he pronounced these significant words Mender shrugged his shoulders. His manner was cool, one would have said almost unconcerned.

"You are right," agreed the younger plotter. "The Italians, like all the other peoples engaged in this war, hate spies bitterly, and would be quick to mete out death to us."

"It would be desirable," Mender proceeded, "to prevent the young officers from going back aboard their ship."

"How?" asked Dalny, bluntly.

Mender laughed, cold-bloodedly, in a low tone.

"In Naples," he explained, "there are, as you know, my dear Dalny, hundreds of bravos, some of whom are the most desperate fellows in the world--men who would stick at nothing to earn a few _lira_. And they will ask no awkward questions as to which country they serve in aiding us."

"Then you would have Darrin and Dalzell seized, by night, by some of these bravos, and carried away to a secure place where they could be confined until your plans have been carried through?" inquired Dalny, thoughtfully.

"It is always dangerous to have banditti seize men and hide them away, especially in a country that is engaged in war," replied Mender, slowly. "Now, if, in one of the narrow, dark streets of Old Naples, these young Americans were settled by a few quiet thrusts with the blade, their bodies might then be dropped into a sewer. The bodies might not be found for weeks. On the other hand, captives, no matter how securely hidden, may find means to escape, and all our care in the matter would go for naught. Besides, these Sicilian bravos of Naples much prefer to settle a man with one or two quick thrusts with a narrow blade, and then--But what is the matter, Dalny? Does the use of the knife terrify you?"

"No!" replied Dalny, huskily. "I was merely thinking that, if a man like either Darrin or Dalzell escaped from a knife, after seeing its flash, and if he suspected me of being behind the attempt, either young man would be likely to lay hold of me and snap my spine."

"If you are fearful of the chances and of the possible consequences, Dalny," replied Mender coldly, "you may withdraw."

"No, no, no!" protested Dalny quickly. "You are my chief, Monsieur Mender, and whatever you wish I shall do."

Mender puffed for a few moments at a Russian cigarette, before he again spoke.

"Dalny," he said, "you may be sure I do not distrust either your loyalty or your courage. Go back to your Americans. Detain them as long as needful at the table, no matter by what arts. Within twenty minutes I shall have a leader of Neapolitan bravos here, and I shall have a plan to unfold to him. Then he will go and post his men. You will receive instructions from me that you cannot mistake. You are right in fearing Darrin and Dalzell. We can afford to take no chances. That pair of young American officers shall have no chance of reporting our presence in Naples to their superior officers. Sooner than permit the least risk of interference with our plans I shall remove them from our way."

"Darrin and Dalzell are to be killed, then?" asked Dalny hoarsely.

"They shall be snuffed out," replied Mender, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Go, Dalny, and do your part as far as you have heard it from me. I will attend to the rest. Do not be uneasy."

Dalny made a low bow before his cold-blooded chief, then left the private room, returning to Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, whose death, under the knives of cowardly treachery, he must do his best to help bring about! _

Read next: Chapter 10. Treachery Has The Floor

Read previous: Chapter 8. On Lively Special Duty

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