STRONG MEASURES.
"You have made a most extraordinary mistake," Walter said. "On and off
I have known Mrs. Delahay for some considerable time. I am quite
certain that she is no relation whatever to Countess Flavio."
"And I, sir, am equally positive," the Italian detective replied. "I
think my friend Inspector Dallas told you just now that I had the
Flavio case in hand from the first. Indeed, I have had many
conversations with the Countess. So positive am I that I am right that
I will be prepared to make an affidavit of the facts."
"This is very strange," Lance murmured. "I cannot but believe that you
have been deceived by a strong likeness between two different women. I
know all about Mrs. Delahay. She comes from a very good Italian
family, though I believe they were poor; they were exceedingly proud
and exclusive, and until the death of her parents, Mrs. Delahay lived
a life of almost monastic seclusion."
"Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me her name?" Berti asked. "It
might facilitate matters."
"Certainly," Walter Lance replied. "Before she was married Mrs.
Delahay was Signora Descarti."
A peculiar smile flitted over his face.
"That is assuredly a point in my favour," he said, "seeing that
Countess Flavio also was Signora Descarti."
Lance began to feel less sure of his ground. It appeared to him that
the mystery was deeper than he had anticipated, and the more he came
to investigate, the more bewildering the puzzle was. Certainly he had
known Maria Delahay for the last three years on and off, but when he
came to think over matters it struck him for the first time with
peculiar force that, really, he knew little or nothing of Maria
Delahay's antecedents. He well recollected the time when Louis Delahay
announced his approaching marriage. He recalled that evening
perfectly. Delahay had been a self-contained sort of man, and one of
the last persons in the world to associate with matrimony, but he
seemed to have found his fate at length, and had quite come out of his
shell, discussing his future wife with Lance.
And what was it that he had told him after all? In the first instance,
Signora Descarti was no longer in the bloom of her youth. In the
second place, she was shy and retiring, possibly because, up to a
certain time, she had lived such a secluded life. Despite the fact
that she was of excellent family, she was earning a precarious living
with her brush, and Delahay had hinted that there had been a romance
in her early days which had coloured her life. Really, beyond this,
Walter Lance had no knowledge of this unhappy woman's past, and he did
not forget that the Flavio affair was nearly twenty years old. Except
by the police, the thing was absolutely forgotten. It was almost
impossible that anybody besides these authorities would recognise
Carlotta, Countess Flavio, at this moment.
It came upon Lance with quite a shock that his unfortunate friend,
after all, might have married a woman who had been tried five times on
the capital charge. Eighteen years is a long span in a human life, and
many changes can happen in that time.
Lance put aside the uneasy thoughts that rose to his mind, and turned
to Berti again.
"That is distinctly a point in your favour," he said. "I confess that
the fact that both ladies possessed the same maiden name comes as a
shock to me. And yet, even now, I can't altogether abandon the idea
that this is nothing more than a coincidence. But, tell me, what
opinion did you form of Countess Flavio's character?"
The Italian smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Enigma," he said, "the woman seemed to be without feeling altogether,
from the time that I arrested her until her final acquittal I never
knew her display any feeling at all. Even when I had to announce to
her that she was at liberty, she gave no sign of pleasure or relief.
She was like a creature who had been deprived of all the emotions,
like some people you see who are deeply addicted to the drug habit. I
have seen her execrated by a mob of excited people, and taking no more
notice of them than if she were deaf. Yes; she was a most
extraordinary woman."
"Did you believe her guilty?" Lance asked.
"Ah, there you puzzle me," Berti replied. "Upon my word, I don't know.
Opinion was so equally divided; in each case the jury was balanced for
and against. Sometimes I thought the woman was guilty, and sometimes I
thought she was innocent. Of course, it was that extraordinary _alibi_
which saved her life. There was no getting away from it, for the
testimony in the woman's favour was given by people who were total
strangers to her. On the other hand, all the household servants came
forward one after the other, and gave their mistress a very bad name,
indeed. On their testimony she would have been executed, without a
doubt. If only half they said was true, the Countess Flavio was a
fiend."
"Did no servant testify in her favour?" Lance asked.
"Well, one. And he was a manservant who had accompanied the Countess
from her own home. According to his account, his mistress was a
perfect angel, and the Count was no more nor less than a disgrace to
humanity. This testimony passed for very little, seeing that Count
Flavio's neighbours and tenants came forward and spoke of him as a man
of singular charm and virtue."
"I have heard that," Lance said, thoughtfully. "You see, Lord
Ravenspur, my uncle, was a great friend of the Count. I understand
that he never met the Countess, though he had an interview with the
Count not long before his death. According to what Lord Ravenspur
says, at that time the Count walked in fear of his life. He was very
fearful lest his wife should try to destroy him. And now you tell me
that the Countess Flavio was no less than the wife of my friend
Delahay. I don't know what to think about it. I presume that Inspector
Dallas will take steps to assure himself that Mrs. Delahay is the
woman you take her to be."
"Well, yes," Dallas said grimly; "I don't see how the matter can rest
here. We know perfectly well that Mrs. Delahay was away from her hotel
for upwards of two hours on the night of her husband's death. It has
been proved that she was seen in his company. And yet, at the first
outset, she declares that she has not been outside her bedroom. One
doesn't like to come to conclusions; they are fatal things to form in
our profession. But it seems to me pretty obvious that there is one
person who could clear up this mystery, and she happens to be the dead
man's wife."
Lance had nothing to say in objection to this. Still, at the same
time, there was a haunting doubt in the back of his mind that
circumstances were shaping themselves against Maria Delahay apart from
any faults of her own.
"You haven't enough to justify an immediate arrest, I suppose?" he
asked. "You see what I mean?"
"Oh, I see perfectly well what you mean, sir," Inspector Dallas
replied. "There is nothing to gain by such a course. It is impossible
for the woman to get away. Indeed, we should take immediate steps to
prevent her leaving the country. If she is the guilty party, she will
be much more use to us as a free woman than she would be as a
suspected criminal under lock and key. But, unless I am mistaken, Mr.
Lance, you came here to tell me something."
"I had clean forgotten all about it," Lance exclaimed. "But as it is
getting late now, if you don't mind I will leave it till the morning.
It is a long story."
A few moments later and Lance was retracing his steps in the direction
of the Grand Hotel. He was going to do wrong; he was going to do
something which, sooner or later, might land him in serious trouble,
but that did not deter him for a moment. In the hall of the hotel he
scribbled a hasty note, and sent it up to Mrs. Delahay. A message came
down in a moment or two to say that Mrs. Delahay would be pleased to
see Mr. Lance.
He found her waiting in the sitting-room, just as cold and pale and
impassive as before.
"You have something very important?" she asked.
"Indeed, I have," Lance exclaimed. "I want you to believe that I am
actuated entirely by the friendliest motives, and if I speak plainly
you will understand that I am not wanting in feeling. I have been with
Inspector Dallas tonight and he introduced me to an Italian detective
whose name is Berti. The latter assures me that his name is quite
familiar to you."
"He is quite mistaken," Mrs. Delahay said in her cold, even voice. "I
don't know anybody of that name. As to a policeman, I never had the
honour of speaking to one in my life."
"You are quite certain of that?"
"Absolutely. If it were true, what should I have to gain by denying
it? If you have anything to say to me, it will be far better to speak
quite plainly."
The woman spoke quietly enough. It was impossible to believe that she
was wilfully deceiving her questioner.
"Very well, then," Lance said, "I may as well tell you that this man
Berti was the detective who had the Flavio case in hand. You will
remember, of course, what an extraordinary sensation that drama caused
in Italy many years ago."
"Did it?" Mrs. Delahay said indifferently. "I never had the slightest
interest in that kind of thing. So far as this particular case is
concerned, I never heard of it before."
Lance could only stare in astonishment. She was speaking and acting
now just as, according to Berti, the Countess Flavio had behaved
before and during the trial. Was she the sport of circumstance, or was
she the woman she denied herself to be?