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Updated: June 11, 2025
He said that he had no acquaintances at all in England, and was only going there now because he heard that there was a good market for wool. At another time he spoke as though much of his life had been passed in Marseilles, and hinted that he was a partner of a commercial house there. Cigole never made any advances, and never even met half-way those which Brandon made.
"They would believe any statement made by Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. My seniors have been on your track for a long time, and have come into connection with various parties. One man who is an Italian they consider important. They authorize me to state to you that this man can also prove the forgeries." "Who?" grasped Potts. "His name is Cigole." "Cigole!" "Yes." "D him!"
The fact of their being the only passengers on board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw them together; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremest limits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that his purposes would be best served by close association with this man; he hoped that in the course of such association he might draw something from Cigole.
The frightful truth flashed at once across Langhetti's mind that Potts had it in his power here to show all this to the world. He was overwhelmed. He had never conceived the possibility of this. Potts watched him silently, with a sneer on his face. "Don't you think that you had better go and comfort yourself with your dear friend Cigole, your father's intended murderer?" said he at length.
Even in the midst of his cares Brandon's curiosity was excited. He walked with assumed indifference up to the desk as though looking for the key of his room. Glancing at the hotel book his eye ranged down the column of names till it rested on the last one. "Pietro Cigole." Cigole! the name brought singular associations. Had this man still any connection with Potts?
In the month of July a boat arrived at Manilla which carried the crew and one passenger from the brig Vishnu. One of the men, a Malay named Uracao, was in irons, and he was immediately given up to the authorities." "Who were the others?" "Potts, as he called himself, the Colonel's valet, Clark, three Lascars, and the Captain, an Italian named Cigole. Information was at once laid against the Malay.
"No answer came; but the next moment there was a tremendous fall, and one of the men clung to the other, whom he held downward. I sprang from my berth. There were low voices out in the cabin. "'You can't, said one voice, which I recognized as Clark's. 'He has his pistols. "'He hasn't, said the voice of Cigole. 'Potts took them away. He's unarmed.
He believed that this man was the same Cigole who had figured in the affair of the Vishnu; that he had been sent out by Potts to do some injury to himself, and that he was capable of any crime. Yet he could not see how he could do any thing. He certainly could not incite the simple-minded captain and the honest mate to conspiracy. He was too great a coward to attempt any violence.
"God bless you." cried Compton, "I see by your face that you will do it. Good-by." He wrung Brandon's hand hard and left the ship. About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking a cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not appear to have heard it.
There was no chance, certainly, for one of those conspiracies such as Mr. Compton had hinted at as having taken place on the Vishnu; for in his account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had been made a scape-goat for the sins of the others. Brandon was soon on the best of terms with the officers of the ship. As to Cigole it was different.
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