Ten days later, the final scenes of degradation took place. ln the vain hope that Buonaparte might treat Venice better as a democracy than as an oligarchy, the Grand Council voted, by 512 against only 20, its own abolition, and the transfer of its authority to a Municipality selected by Villetard. The aged Doge, Manin, fell in a dead faint from shame as he took off his bonnet of office. This, his other insignia, and the Golden Book, were publicly burnt, Trees of Liberty were set up in the Square of St. Mark, the Venetian fleet was handed over, and a ghastly pretence was made of welcoming the French troops into the city as the bringers of liberty.
Roger was deeply sensible of the terrible distress that these happenings must have caused Captain Battista, and many other Venetians like him, who would willingly have fought for their country; but it was inescapable that enervating luxury had rendered the Venetian nobility rotten to the core, and that this, coupled with cowardly inaction, or rather lack of a demand for it, on the part of the majority of the citizens, was responsible for the fall of the ancient Republic.
The voyage up the Adriatic proved a pleasant one, and on August 15th they entered the thirty mile long lagoon, with its many islands. For two hours, Roger enjoyed the spectacle of the beautiful city rising from the sea, with the lofty campanile and the domes of Sta Giorgio Maggiore, Sta Maria del Salute, and those of a score of other great churches, gradually coming nearer.
They docked at the Zattere allo Spirito Santo and, after Roger had paid the dues on his scents, Battista took him to an auberge in a narrow street just behind the church of that name, that catered for eastern merchants. After arranging for his accommodation, they parted on most friendly terms, and Roger, pretending deafness so as to avoid talking with the landlord and other lodgers at the place, took up his abode in a small, but clean, apartment on the second floor.
To reach Venice from Bahna had taken him four and a half months and, for the greater part of the six thousand miles between them, he had suffered loneliness and great discomfort. But, had he gone back to Calcutta, returned from there by ship to England, or even to Gibraltar, and then done the last stage through the western Mediterranean, it could well have taken him much longer; and, by the route he had followed, with its many hazards of delay by weather or waiting for ships to sail, there had always been the chance that he might catch up with Malderini.
Roger would not have been surprised if it turned out that he had by-passed his enemy and arrived first; but he thought that unlikely. In any case, Malderini had no reason to hide his return, and it would soon become widely known because he was a prominent citizen of Venice. That also meant, though, that it would be far from easy to kill him without arousing a big hue and cry and, while Roger was determined to have his life, he had no intention of paying for it with his own, if that could possibly be avoided. He therefore decided that, whether or not Malderini had yet arrived, he would do well to spend his first few days in Venice familiarising himself with the city.
During the long August evening and all the following day, on foot and by gondola, he explored the maze of canals crossed by scores of little bridges and a labyrinth of narrow streets, alleys and small squares that make Venice so unlike any other city. By night, while drinking coffee at a cafe in the crowded Piazza San Marco and listening to the band of a French Chasseur regiment, he delighted in the fairy like beauty of the Byzantine Cathedral. Filling one end of the huge open space, its innumerable coloured marble pillars, lit by the hundreds of lamps in the arcades along the other three sides, and its five cupolas standing out against the deep blue starlit sky, gave it the appearance of a painted back-drop on some gargantuan stage. By day, he admired the great square Palace of the Doges, the world famous Rialto Bridge and the scores of stately Palaces on the Grand Canal.
That afternoon, he learned by tactful enquiries that, on the fall of the Serenissima, the British Ambassador, Sir Richard Worsley, Bart., had demanded his papers and left Venice; but that the Consul, Mr. John Watson, had remained on as charge d’Affaires, and lived in the Calle del Sansovino, just behind the Dario Palace.
Next morning he went there in the guise of a perfume seller, supporting by a strap round his neck a box like covered tray, holding a score of small square glass bottles, each containing a different scent. Although not large, like nearly all the houses in the better quarters of Venice that of the Consul had a handsome pillared doorway of carved stone, and the windows of its ground-floor rooms were protected by iron grilles, wrought by a craftsman. Roger pulled down the long iron bell-pull, and waited.
The door was opened by a footman in undress livery, who had the dark eyes and complexion of a typical Italian. Immediately he saw that Roger was a huckster he made to close it again; but speaking in broken Italian Roger said quickly:
'Scent, very special, for your master. Scent from London. English Lavender. You tell him, English Lavender. He very pleased with you, English Lavender.' And, as he was speaking, he swiftly thrust a sequin into the servant's hand.
The man hesitated a moment, then, evidently reluctant to return such a handsome bribe, nodded and shut the door. Five minutes later he returned and let Roger into a small stone-flagged hall with a row of four pillars at its far end. Between two of them, a tall thin man of about fifty was standing. He had blue eyes and was wearing his own hair which had been a fiery red, but was now streaked with grey.
Roger had no doubt that he was Mr. Watson. After making a grave salaam, he went forward muttering his Italian patter, repeating 'English Lavender' and lifting the lid of the box of perfumes. The Consul made a pretence of looking at them and smelt the back of his hand on which Roger had smeared the wet stopper of one of the little bottles. As soon as the servant had disappeared, he said:
This is not lavender.'
'No,' Roger replied in a low voice. 'But I am English. When can I see you on private business? I have a letter from Mr. Pitt.'
After a surprised lift of his thick eyebrows, the Consul whispered back: 'There is a side door in the wall to the left. Be there at eleven o'clock tonight and give three sharp knocks.' Then, talking loudly in Italian again, he led Roger back across the hall and let him out.
A little over twelve hours later, he let him in by the side door. It gave onto a small court, having in it a single old magnolia tree, some tubs of flowers, and a marble table with an inlaid top upon which were an oil-lamp and some papers. The August night was very sultry and evidently the Consul had been working out there. Motioning Roger to an iron garden chair, he said at once:
I never expected to be honoured by a letter from the Prime Minister, but…'
'Forgive me,' Roger interrupted. 'I fear I misled you. The letter is to myself; and I wished to show it you only as evidence of my bona fides. Here it is.'
Ah well!' Mr. Watson hid his disappointment with a little shrug, took the letter that Colonel Wesley had delivered to Roger in Calcutta, read it through by the light of the lamp, and said: 'This makes it clear that you are in the Prime Minister's confidence, Mr. Brook. In what way can I be of service to you?'
Roger bowed. 'I thank you. Sir in the first place, do you know anything of a signor Rinaldo Malderini?'
'Yes. He is, I think, the sole survivor of a noble Venetian family, and married to an Indian Princess. His is not an attractive personality and he is said to dabble in the Black Art. He is reputed to be rich and is interested in theatrical productions, acting frequently as backer for them. But he had also, at times, been employed by the government. He went on a mission to London for the Serenissima last summer; an unfortunate choice for us, as his sympathies are pro-French. He has since been absent from Venice for many months; but where, I do not know. He reappeared here about three weeks ago.'