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.