LITMIR.BIZ

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We have examined the portmanteau which Ferrari left behind him. It contains nothing but clothes and linen – no money, and not even a scrap of paper in the pockets of the clothes. The portmanteau remains in charge of the police.

      We have also spoken privately to the old woman who attends to the rooms occupied by her ladyship and the Baron. Unfortunately, her limited intelligence makes her of no value as a witness. She was willing to answer us; but we could elicit nothing useful.

      On the second day of our inquiries, we had the honour of an interview with Lady Montbarry. Her ladyship looked miserable and ill. Baron Rivar, who introduced us, explained the nature of our errand in Venice. After that he discreetly left the room.

      The questions which we addressed to Lady Montbarry related mainly, of course, to his lordship’s illness. The answers informed us of the facts that follow:

      Lord Montbarry had been out of order for some time past – nervous and irritable. He first complained of illness on November 13. He passed a wakeful and feverish night, and remained in bed the next day. Her ladyship proposed medical advice. He refused to call the doctor. Some hot lemonade was made at his request. The courier Ferrari (then the only servant in the house) went out to buy the lemons. Her ladyship made the drink with her own hands. Lord Montbarry had some hours of sleep afterwards. Later in the day, Lady Montbarry rang for Ferrari. The bell was not answered. Baron Rivar searched for the man, in the palace and out of it, in vain. This happened on November 14.

      On the night of the 14th, the feverish symptoms returned. They were perhaps attributable to the annoyance and alarm caused by Ferrari’s mysterious disappearance.

      On the 15th (the day on which the old woman first came to do the housework), his lordship complained of sore throat, and of a feeling of oppression on the chest. On this day, and again on the 16th, her ladyship and the Baron entreated him to see a doctor. He still refused. “I don’t want strange faces about me,” that was his answer.

      On the 17th he was so much worse that it was decided to send for medical help whether he liked it or not. Baron Rivar, after inquiry at the consul’s, secured the services of Doctor Bruno, an eminent physician in Venice. The doctor’s own report is attached.

      “My medical diary informs me that I first saw the English Lord Montbarry, on November 17. He was suffering from a sharp attack of bronchitis. Some precious time was lost. So he was in a delicate state of health. His nervous system was out of order – he was at once timid and contradictory. When I spoke to him in English, he answered in Italian; and when I tried him in Italian, he went back to English. Then he could only speak a few words at a time, and those in a whisper.

      I at once applied the necessary remedies. Copies of my prescriptions (with translation into English) accompany the present statement.

      For the next three days I was in constant attendance on my patient. Lady Montbarry was indeed a very devoted wife. She did not allow anybody to attend on her husband but herself. Night and day this estimable woman was at his bedside. In her brief intervals of repose, her brother watched the sick man in her place. This brother dabbled in chemistry; and he wanted to show me some of his experiments.

      Up to the 20th, then, things went well enough. I was quite unprepared for the disastrous change that showed itself, when I paid Lord Montbarry my morning visit on the 21st. He relapsed, and seriously relapsed. I examined him to discover the cause. I found symptoms of pneumonia. He breathed with difficulty. Lady Montbarry suggested a consultation with another physician. Her ladyship instructed me to get the best medical opinion in Italy. The first and foremost of Italian physicians is Torello of Padua. He arrived on the evening of the 21st, and confirmed my opinion about pneumonia, and that our patient’s life was in danger. He approved of my treatment. He made some valuable suggestions, and he deferred his return to Padua until the following morning.

      The disease was steadily advancing. In the morning Doctor Torello left. ‘I can be of no further use,’ he said to me. ‘Nothing can help this – and he must know it.’

      Later in the day I warned my lord that his time had come. Lord Montbarry received the news with composure, but with a certain doubt. He whispered faintly, ‘Are you sure?’ It was no time to deceive him; I said, ‘Positively sure.’ He waited a little, and then he whispered again, ‘Feel under my pillow.’ I found under his pillow a letter, sealed and stamped, ready for the post. His next words were audible: ‘Post it yourself.’ I answered, of course, and I did post the letter with my own hand. I looked at the address. It was directed to a lady in London. The street I cannot remember. The name I can perfectly recall: it was an Italian name: ‘Mrs. Ferrari.’

      That night my lord nearly died of asphyxia. He lingered in a state of insensibility until the 25th, and died on the evening of that day.

      As to the cause of his death, it seems simply absurd to ask the question. Bronchitis, terminating in pneumonia. Doctor Torello’s own note is added here to a duplicate of my certificate.”

      Doctor Bruno’s evidence ends here.

      Lady Montbarry can give us no information on the subject of the letter which the doctor posted at Lord Montbarry’s request. When his lordship wrote it? what it contained? why he kept it a secret from Lady Montbarry (and from the Baron also)? why did he write to the wife of his courier? Application to Mrs. Ferrari may perhaps clear up the mystery.

      Anyway, it is impossible to dispute the statement on the certificate that his lordship died a natural death. Therefore, we report that there are no valid grounds for refusing the payment of the sum for which the late Lord Montbarry’s life was assured.

      We shall send these lines to you by the post of tomorrow, December 10.’

      Chapter IX

      ‘Now, my dear, what do you have to say to me? I don’t want to hurry you; but these are business hours, and I have other people’s affairs.’

      Addressing Ferrari’s wife, Mr. Troy looked at the watch on his desk, and then waited to hear what his client had to say to him.

      ‘It’s something more, sir, about the letter with the thousand-pound note,’ Mrs. Ferrari began. ‘I have found out who sent it to me.’

      Mr. Troy started. ‘This is news indeed!’ he said. ‘Who sent you the letter?’

      ‘Lord Montbarry sent it, sir.’

      ‘Nonsense! There is some mistake – it can’t be!’ he said.

      ‘There is no mistake,’ Mrs. Ferrari rejoined. ‘Two gentlemen from the insurance offices told me. They heard of the letter and of the bank-note inside. And they know who sent the letter. The doctor in Venice posted it at his lordship’s request. Go to the gentlemen yourself, sir, if you don’t believe me. They asked me why Lord Montbarry had written to me and sent me the money. I said it was like his lordship’s kindness.’

      ‘Like his lordship’s kindness?’ Mr. Troy repeated, in amazement. ‘A very pretty explanation! What did your visitors from the insurance offices think of it?’

      ‘They asked if I had any proof of my husband’s death.’

      ‘And what did you say?’

      ‘I said, “I give you better than proof, gentlemen; I give you my positive opinion.’

      ‘That satisfied them, of course?’

      ‘They didn’t say anything, sir. They looked at each other – and wished me good-morning.’

      ‘Well, Mrs. Ferrari, I think I shall wish you good-morning too. In the absence of proof, I can do no more.’

      ‘I can provide you with proof, sir – if that is all you want,’ said Mrs. Ferrari. ‘You probably know that Lady Montbarry has arrived in London, at Newbury’s Hotel. I propose to go and see her.’

      ‘May I ask for what purpose?’

      Mrs. Ferrari answered in a mysterious whisper.

      ‘For the purpose of catching her in a trap! The first words I say to her will be these: “I come, my lady, to acknowledge the receipt of the money sent to Ferrari’s widow.” And I am going there now, sir. You

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