Page:The Popular Magazine v72 n1 (1924-04-20).djvu/17

 Tomaso. Take me into the Rio della Guerra and from there into the Rio dei Baretteri. There's an old palace there I wish to see—the palace of Mascarelli.”

“Oh, the one now owned by the wealthy American, the Signor Harnway?”

“Yes, that's the one,” said Captain Jimmy, settling back into his seat as the gondolier dipped his long oar into the water, swung the high and ornate prow of his black craft sidewise and urged it forward.

For a long time, leisurely, almost silently, the gondola slipped through the narrow waterway bordered by buildings high and as black and still as the water which the prow of the gondola seemed to slip over rather than to part. At that hour of the night no other boats intruded upon them. Once they passed three or four other craft whose owners, tired, lay asleep as if the canals were their homes to which they had come for rest when the day's work was done. Gloomy doorways opened here and there above landing steps whose bases were laved and slapped by the languidly disturbed waters. Here and there a wall was passed whose creepers and vines, flowering dully in the gloom, swayed in the water as if aroused from sleep. Suddenly the gondolier paused and muttered as if in astonishment, “There is another gondola ahead of us that acts peculiarly! As if it didn't wish to be seen and Strange things happen in these rios at night, signor. Perhaps we intrude.”

“How do you know they act peculiarly?” demanded Captain Jimmy, interested.

“They have kept just far enough ahead to keep from sight, signor. I can tell by the wash. Each time when there is a turn where we could have taken another direction they have waited to see whether we would leave them. They do not wish to be seen.”

“All right. Let's have some fun with them. See if you can catch up and come alongside. There's twenty lire extra in it if you can,” Captain Jimmy remarked impulsively. “I've never seen a gondola race and it ought to be worth while. Go to it!”

The gondolier grinned in the darkness, said something about an extra twenty lire being worth striving for, and shot his slender boat ahead with swift strokes of the long oar. It turned a corner in time to see a similar boat making off into an intersection. A few yards more and Captain Jimmy's boat, with a rapid swerve, also had turned into a still narrower rio and now in a patch of light from high windows they saw the pursued gondola making undoubted haste to escape.

“Forty lire if you overtake them,” called Captain Jimmy, with dormant sporting proclivities aroused. “Yes, I'll make it fifty. Shake a blade. Let's see what you can do!”

The veteran at the oar was now swaying his body backward and forward with his foot and stiffened leg keeping time as his stroke increased, and the gondola seemed pulsing with effort. It slowed down to make the next turn around which the escaping boat had disappeared some minutes before and then Captain Jimmy heard an exclamation, felt Tomaso making frantic efforts to alter the course of his craft, and heard his shout, “Signor! Look out for yourself!”

He had but a glimpse of the high, sharp, metal prow of another gondola, manned with two oars, shooting forward to ram his own craft! There was a resounding smash, the gondola in which he stood was overturned and he found himself swimming in the water near his own gondolier, who was swearing steadily with a vigor that proved that he was angry, rather than frightened, and in no danger of drowning. And this surprise was not dulled before he received another; for he heard a woman's voice commanding sharply, “Keep straight on! Straight on and back as fast as you can. A police boat may be called! Quickly!”

“True, signorina! True!” he heard another well-known and recognized voice reply and the two-oared gondola slithered past, its black shape appearing snakelike, its two oars working at racing speed and then in a moment they were gone. He knew that he had been run down by Tommie Cardell and that the man in the head of the attacking gondola had been none other than Pietro Sordillo, the guide, her retainer.

His own gondolier came swimming toward him like a water rat to see if his passenger required assistance, saw that he was well able to care for himself and swam toward the overturned gondola which floated but a few yards away. Captain Jimmy had just gained his side and was resting with an arm on the craft when they heard a shout above them on the narrow ledge of a street near by and knew that the authoritative tones could have come only from an officer:

“What's wrong down there?”

The gondolier was about to shout his ex-