The writer stated that he had recently arrived in Venice. Ferrari was with Lord and Lady Montbarry, at one of the old Venetian palaces. He was a friend of Ferrari, so he went to pay him a visit. He rang at the door that opened on the canal. No answer. He went round to a side entrance. Here, he found a pale woman with magnificent dark eyes, who was Lady Montbarry herself.
She asked, in Italian, what he wanted. He answered that he wanted to see the courier Ferrari, if it was quite convenient. She at once informed him that Ferrari had left the palace, without any reason. He did not leave an address at which his monthly salary could be paid. Amazed at this reply, the courier inquired if any person had offended Ferrari, or quarrelled with him. The lady answered,
To my knowledge, certainly not. I am Lady Montbarry. We are as much astonished as you are at his extraordinary disappearance. If you hear of him, pray let us know.
The courier at once entered on the necessary investigations without the slightest result. Nobody saw him. Nobody knew anything. They said that her ladyships English maid had left her, before the disappearance of Ferrari, to return to her relatives. His lordship was ill. He lived in the strictest retirement. The courier discovered a stupid old woman who did the housework at the palace. She arrived in the morning and went away at night. She had never seen the lost courier she had never even seen Lord Montbarry, who was in his room. Her ladyship, a most gracious and adorable mistress, was in constant attendance on her noble husband. There was no other servant then in the house but herself.
An Italian doctor once visited his lordship. He also had never seen Ferrari. The doctor described Lord Montbarrys malady as bronchitis. The police were looking for the lost man and that was the only hope, to Ferraris wife.
What do you think of it, Miss? the poor woman asked eagerly. What will you advise me to do?
Agnes did not know what to say. She was not thinking of the lost Ferrari; her mind was in Venice, by the sick mans bedside.
I hardly know what to say, she answered.
Do you think it would help you, Miss, if you read my husbands letters to me? There are only three of them.
Agnes compassionately read the letters. The first letter was from Paris.
We leave Paris tomorrow. I dont much like my lord. He is proud and cold, and, between ourselves, stingy in money matters. We were discussing some centimes in the hotel bill; and twice already. Some sharp remarks passed between the newly-married couple, her ladyship like to purchase pretty tempting things at the shops in Paris. I cant afford it! For my part, I like her. She has the nice, easy manners.
The second letter was dated from Rome.
My lord is incurably restless. I suspect he is uneasy in his mind. He is constantly reading old letters, when her ladyship is not present. We stopped in Genoa, but he hurried us on. The same thing in Florence. My ladys brother met us in Rome. There was a quarrel already (the ladys maid tells me) between my lord and the Baron. The latter wanted to borrow money of the former. His lordship refused in language which offended Baron Rivar. My lady pacified them.
The third, and last letter, was from Venice.
More of my lords economy! We hired a damp, mouldy, rambling old palace. My lord says the quiet of Venice is good for his nerves. But a foreign architect is going to turn the palace into an hotel. The Baron is still with us, and there are more disagreements about money matters. I dont like the Baron and I dont find my lady agreeable. She was much nicer before the Baron joined us. I receive my salary regularly at the end of each month not a franc extra, though I do many things which are not part of a couriers work. And the Baron was trying to borrow money of me! He is an inveterate gambler. And I saw other things besides, which dont increase my respect for my lady and the Baron. The maid wants to leave. She is a respectable British female. It is a dull life here. When my lord goes out, he goes alone, and generally towards nightfall. Indoors, he shuts himself up in his own room with his books, and sees as little of his wife and the Baron as possible. Does he suspect anything? Who knows. However, the pay is good and Im not going to leave, like my ladys maid.
Agnes handed back the letters with feelings of shame and distress.
The one thing I can suggest, she said, to consult a person of greater experience than ours. I will write and ask my lawyer to come and advise us tomorrow.
Emily eagerly and gratefully accepted the suggestion. An hour was arranged for the meeting on the next day; and the couriers wife left.
Weary and heartsick, Agnes lay down on the sofa, to rest and compose herself. The careful nurse brought a cup of tea. They were talking quietly, when they heard a loud knock at the house door. Hurried footsteps ascended the stairs. The door of the sitting-room was thrown open violently; the couriers wife rushed in like a mad woman.
Hes dead! Theyve murdered him!
Those wild words were all she could say. She dropped on her knees at the foot of the sofa and fell back in a swoon.
The nurse took the necessary measures to restore the fainting woman.
Whats this? she exclaimed. Heres a letter in her hand. See what it is, Miss.
The open envelope was addressed to Mrs. Ferrari. The post-mark was Venice. On the note-paper, one line only was written. It contained these words:
To console you for the loss of your husband
Agnes opened the enclosure next.
It was a Bank of England note for a thousand pounds.
Chapter VI
The next day, the friend and legal adviser of Agnes Lockwood, Mr. Troy, called on her by appointment in the evening. Mrs. Ferrari told the lawyer that was known about Ferraris disappearance. Mr. Troy read (first) the three letters addressed by Ferrari to his wife; (secondly) the letter written by Ferraris courier-friend, describing his visit to the palace and his interview with Lady Montbarry; and (thirdly) the one line of anonymous writing which accompanied the extraordinary gift of a thousand pounds to Ferraris wife.
She looks very ill, poor thing!
In these words the lawyer opened the business of the evening.
She has suffered a terrible shock, Agnes answered.
Mr. Troy turned to Mrs. Ferrari, and looked at her again. He drummed absently with his fingers on the table. At last he spoke to her.
My good lady, you dont really believe that your husband is dead?
Mrs. Ferrari put her handkerchief to her eyes. The word dead was ineffectual to express her feelings. Murdered! she said sternly, behind her handkerchief.
Why? And by whom? Mr. Troy asked.
You have read my husbands letters, sir, she began. I believe he discovered- She stopped.
What did he discover?
He discovered Lady Montbarry and the Baron! she answered. The Baron is no more that vile womans brother than I am. My poor dear husband saw the wickedness of those two wretches. The ladys maid left her place on account of it. They have killed my husband, because he knew much.
Mr. Troy listened with an expression of satirical approval.
Mrs. Ferrari, he said, you build up your sentences well, can be a good lawyer. Complete the case, my good lady complete the case. Tell us next who sent you this letter with the bank-note. The two wretches who murdered Mr. Ferrari will hardly send you a thousand pounds. Who is it eh? I see the post-mark on the letter is Venice. Have you any friend in that interesting city, with a large heart, who wishes to console you anonymously?
It was not easy to reply to this.
I dont understand you, sir, Mrs. Ferrari answered. I dont think this is a joke.
Agnes drew her chair a little nearer to her friend Mr. Troy.
What is the most probable explanation, in your opinion? she asked.
I shall offend Mrs. Ferrari if I tell you, Mr. Troy answered.
No, sir, you wont! cried Mrs. Ferrari.
The lawyer leaned back in his chair.
Very well, he said. Observe, madam, I dont dispute your view of the position of affairs at the palace in Venice. You have your husbands letters to justify you; and you have also the significant fact that Lady Montbarrys maid did really leave the house. We will say, then, that Lord Montbarry is victim of a foul wrong and that Mr. Ferrari was the first to find it out. Now listen! Your husband is in this miserable household, under very awkward circumstances for him. What does he do? He wisely withdraws himself from association with a disgraceful discovery. He runs away secretly. The money modifies this view unfavourably so far as Mr. Ferrari is concerned. I now say that bank-note there on the table is the price of his absence. The guilty persons sent it to his wife.
Mrs. Ferraris watery grey eyes brightened suddenly.
Its false! she cried. Its a shame to speak of my husband in that way!
I told you I could offend you! said Mr. Troy.
Agnes took the offended wifes hand. She appealed to the lawyer to reconsider his theory. While she was speaking, the servant interrupted her. He brought a visiting-card. It was the card of Henry Westwick; and there was an ominous request.
I bring bad news. Let me see you for a minute downstairs. Agnes immediately left the room.
Alone with Mrs. Ferrari, Mr. Troy told the couriers wife,
My good soul, he began, I respect you for speaking so warmly in your husbands defence. I dont want to offend you, I am a total stranger to you and to Mr. Ferrari. A thousand pounds is a large sum of money; and a poor man may be tempted by it and keep out of the way for a while. My only interest is to get at the truth. If you give me time, Ill try to find your husband.
I am much obliged to you, sir, was all Ferraris wife said.
Mr. Troy put his hands in his pockets, and looked out of window. After an interval of silence, the drawing-room door was opened.
Mr. Troy expected to see Agnes. To his surprise there appeared, in her place, a perfect stranger to him a gentleman, with an expression of pain and embarrassment on his handsome face. He looked at Mr. Troy, and bowed gravely.
Some news has greatly distressed Miss Agnes Lockwood, he said. She has retired to her room. I can speak to you in her place.
Then he noticed Mrs. Ferrari, and held out his hand to her kindly.
It is some years since we last met, Emily, he said. I am afraid you have almost forgotten Master Henry. My name is Henry Westwick. I am the younger brother of the late Lord Montbarry.
The late Lord Montbarry! Mr. Troy exclaimed.
My brother died in Venice yesterday evening. There is the telegram, he handed the paper to Mr. Troy.
The message was in these words:
Lady Montbarry, Venice. To Stephen Robert Westwick, Newburys Hotel, London.
It is useless to take the journey. Lord Montbarry died of bronchitis, at 8.40 this evening. All needful details by post.
Was this expected, sir? the lawyer asked.
I cannot say that we are surprised, Henry answered. My brother Stephen (who is now the head of the family) received a telegram three days ago, informing him that alarming symptoms had declared themselves. The second physician was invited. He telegraphed that Lord Montbarry was in a state of insensibility, and that, in his brief intervals of consciousness, he recognised nobody.
My brother waited in London for later information. The third telegram is now in your hands.
Mrs. Ferrari, said Mr. Troy, have you heard what Mr. Westwick has just told me?
Yes, sir.
Have you any questions to ask?
No, sir.
You look alarmed, the lawyer persisted. Is it still about your husband?
I shall never see my husband again, sir. I am sure of it now.
Sure of it, after what you have just heard?
Yes, sir.
Can you tell me why?
No, sir. Its a feeling I have. I cant tell why.
Oh, a feeling? Mr. Troy repeated, in a tone of compassionate contempt.
He rose.
Accept the expression of my sympathy[18], sir, he said to Mr. Westwick politely. I wish you good evening.
Henry turned to Mrs. Ferrari as the lawyer closed the door.
I have heard of your trouble, Emily, from Miss Lockwood. Is there anything I can do to help you?
Nothing, sir, thank you. Perhaps, I will go home. I am very sorry for Miss Agnes.
She left.
Henry Westwick looked round him in the solitude of the little drawing-room. It was something to be even near Agnes to see her things. There, in the corner, was her chair, with her embroidery on the work-table. On the little easel near the window was her last drawing, not quite finished yet. The book she was reading lay on the sofa, with her tiny pencil. One after another, he looked at the objects that reminded him of the woman whom he loved.
She will never forget Montbarry, he thought to himself. Not one of us feels his death as she feels it. Miserable, miserable wretch-how she loved him!
In the street, an acquaintance, a wearisome inquisitive man stopped Henry.
Sad news, Westwick, this about your brother. Rather an unexpected death, wasnt it? We never heard at the club that Montbarrys lungs were weak. What will the insurance offices do?
Stop it, said Henry irritably.
Ah! said his friend, you think the widow will get the money? So do I! so do I!
Chapter VII
Some days later, the insurance offices (two in number) received the formal announcement of Lord Montbarrys death, from her ladyships London solicitors. The sum insured in each office was five thousand pounds. The Directors thought it desirable to consider their position. So the two offices decided to send a commission of inquiry to Venice, to obtain further information.
Mr. Troy received the earliest news. He wrote at once to Agnes:
You are intimately acquainted[19], I know, with Lady Barville, the late Lord Montbarrys eldest sister. The solicitors employed by her husband are also the solicitors to one of the two insurance offices. There may possibly be something in the report of the commission of inquiry on Ferraris disappearance. Ordinary persons will not be permitted, of course, to see such a document. But a sister of the late lord is a relative. The lawyers will at least answer any questions she may ask. Let me hear what you think of this suggestion.
Agnes declined Mr. Troys proposal.
My interference, she wrote, has already produced deplorable results. I cannot and dare not stir any further in the case of Ferrari. I will not even look at the report to which you allude if it is in my hands I have heard more than enough already of that hideous life in the palace in Venice. If Mrs. Ferrari chooses to address herself to Lady Barville (with your assistance), that is of course quite another thing. But, even in this case, my name must not be mentioned. Forgive me, dear Mr. Troy! I am very unhappy, and very unreasonable but I am only a woman, and you must not expect too much from me.
The lawyer wanted to discover the present address of Lady Montbarrys English maid. This excellent suggestion had one drawback: money. And there was no money to spend. Mrs. Ferrari did not want to use the thousand-pound note. It was in a bank. My husbands blood-money! So the attempt to solve the mystery of Ferraris disappearance was suspended for a while.
It was the last month of the year 1860. The commission of inquiry was already at work. On the 10th of December, the term for which the late Lord Montbarry had hired the Venetian palace, expired. Lady Montbarrys lawyers advised her to leave for London. Baron Rivar will accompany her to England, but will not remain in that country. The Baron, well known as an enthusiastic student of chemistry, heard of certain recent discoveries in the United States, and was anxious to investigate them personally.