HOLDEN'S STORY
The long-nosed ex-sergeant entered. His sallow face was browned after his
long journeys and exposure to the Italian sun in midsummer. He was soiled
and travel-stained.
"Excuse my appearance," he said. "I have had no time for even a wash since
this morning. On board the boat I thought it best to keep a constant watch
on Capella and his companions."
"Who are they?" demanded Brett.
Mr. Holden looked at the barrister with an injured air.
"I am a man of few words, sir," he said, "and if you do not mind, I will
tell my story in my own way."
Winter was secretly delighted to hear the "Old 'Un," as they called him in
the Yard, take a rise out of Brett in this manner.
"Perhaps," exclaimed the barrister, "your few words will come more easily
if you wet your whistle."
"Well, I must admit that Italian wine--"
"Is not equal to Scotch; or is it Irish?"
"Irish, sir, if you please."
Mr. Holden's utterance having been cleared of cinders, he made a fresh
start.
"As I was saying, gentlemen, I kept an observant eye on Capella and his
companions, and at the same time occupied myself in the fashioning of
certain little models with which to illustrate my subsequent remarks."
He produced a map of Naples, which he carefully smoothed out on the table,
pressing the creases with his fingers until Brett itched to tweak his long
nose.
The man was evidently a Belfast Irishman, and the barrister forced himself
to find amusement in speculating how such an individual came to speak
Italian fluently. Speculation on this abstruse problem, however, yielded
to keen interest in Mr. Holden's proceedings.
On the face of the map he located a number of small wooden carvings, which
were really very ingenious. They represented churches, an hotel, a
mansion, three ordinary houses, a rambling building like a public
institution, and a nondescript structure difficult to classify.
"I find," said Mr. Holden, when the _mise-en-scène_ was quite to his
liking, "that a good map, and a few realistic models of the principal
buildings dealt with in my discourse, give a lucidity and a coherence
otherwise foreign to the narrative."
Even Winter became restive under this style of address. Brett caught his
eye, and moved by common impulse, they lessened the whisky-mark in a
decanter of Antiquary.
"Allow me to remark," interpolated Brett, "that your telegrams were
admirably terse and to the point."
"Thank you, sir. Many eminent judges have complimented me on my manner of
giving evidence. And now to business. I arrived at the railway station
here" (touching the non-descript building), "and took a room in the Villa
Nuova here" (he laid a finger on the mansion), "which, as you see, is
quite close to the Hotel de Londres here" (a flourish over the hotel), "at
which, as I expected, Mr. Capella took up his abode. According to your
instructions I obtained a competent assistant, a native of Naples, and we
both awaited Mr. Capella's arrival. He reached Naples at 10.30 a.m. the
day following my advent at night, and after breakfast drove straight to
the Reclusorio, or Asylum for the Poor, situated here" (he indicated the
institution), "close to the Botanical Gardens. Mr. Capella arranged with
the authorities to withdraw from the poorhouse an elderly woman named
Maria Bresciano. It subsequently transpired that she was a nurse employed
by a certain English gentleman named Fraser Beechcroft, who became
entangled with a beautiful Italian girl named Margarita di Orvieto some
twenty-eight years ago."
Mr. Holden paid not the remotest attention to the looks of amazement
exchanged between Brett and Winter. He merely paused to take breath and
peer benignantly at the map, following lines thereon with the index finger
of his right hand.
"It appears further," he resumed, "that the Englishman and the Signorina
di Orvieto could not marry, on account of some foolish religious scruples
held by the young lady, but they entertained a very violent passion for
each other, met clandestinely, and a female child was born, whose baptism
is registered, under the name of Margarita di Orvieto, in the church of
the village of La Scutillo here." (He tapped a tiny spired edifice on the
edge of the map.)
"The two were living there in great secrecy, as they were in fear of their
lives, not alone from the young lady's relatives, but from her discarded
lover, the Marchese di Capella, father of the present Mr. Giovanni
Capella, who has dropped his title in England. The old woman, Maria
Bresciano, attended the signorina and her child, but unfortunately the
mother died, and her death is registered both by the civil authorities in
the Minadoi section here" (lifting a small house bodily off the map), "and
by the ecclesiastical here" (he touched another spire).
"The affair created some stir in the Naples of that day, but Beechcroft's
suffering, the calm daring with which, after the girl's death, he defied
those who had vowed vengeance on him, and the generally passionate nature
of the attachment between the two, created much public sympathy for him.
Among others who were attracted to him were a Mr. and Mrs. Somers, and
their daughter, then resident in Naples. Oddly enough, Beechcroft did not
content himself with securing efficient care for his child, but brought
the infant to the Hotel de Londres--you note the coincidence--where it was
nurtured under his personal supervision."
Brett drew a long breath. So this was Margaret's secret and Capella's
vengeance! He was aroused, as from a dream, by Mr. Holden's steady voice.
"Mr. Beechcroft always held that the Signorina di Orvieto was his true
wife in the eyes of Heaven, for their marriage was only prevented by a
most uncalled-for and unnatural threat of incurring her father's dying
curse it she dared to wed a Protestant. Eighteen months after her death he
married Miss Somers at the British Consulate, and revealed his real name
and rank--Sir Alan Hume-Frazer, baronet, of Beechcroft, near Stowmarket,
England. His lady adopted the infant girl as her own, and local gossip had
it that this was a part of the marriage contract, whilst the ceremony took
place at an early date to give colour to the kindly pretence. The pair
lived in a distant suburb, at Donzelle here" (another church fixed the
spot), "and in twelve months a boy was born, birth registered locally and
in the British Consulate. After four more years' residence in Naples, Sir
Alan and Lady Hume-Frazer left Italy with their two children. Mr. Capella
found two of their old servants, Giuseppe Conti and Lola Rintesano, living
in these small houses here and here" (the remaining houses were lifted
into prominence).
"Mr. Capella married Miss Margaret Hume-Frazer in Naples last January, the
marriage being properly registered. His estates are situated in the South
of Italy, and his father retired thither permanently during the scandal
that took place twenty-eight years ago. Mr. Capella has brought with him
the persons named as the nurse and servants, together with certified
copies of all the documents cited. I also have certified copies of those
documents, I now produce them, together with a detailed statement of my
expenses. Mr. Capella is residing in a neighbouring hotel."
The methodical police-sergeant laid some neatly docketed folios on the
table near the map, and sat down for the first time since entering the
room.
As a matter of fact, he had not uttered an unnecessary word. Other men,
describing similar complexities, would have given particulars of their
adventures, how this thing had been done, and that person wheedled into
confidences.
Mr. Holden rose superior to these considerations. His mission was
all-important, and he had certainly fulfilled it to the letter.
"If ever a grateful country makes me a judge, Mr. Holden," said Brett, "I
will add another to the encomiums you have received from the Bench.
Indeed, before this affair ends, that pleasant task may be performed by an
existing judge, for I do not see now how we are going to keep out of the
law-courts. Do you, Winter?"
"Looks like a murder case plus a divorce," commented the detective.
"You are leaving out of count the biggest sensation, namely, the title to
the Beechcroft estates. Under her father's will, if it is very cleverly
drawn, Mrs. Capella may receive £1,000 per annum. She has not the remotest
claim to Beechcroft and its revenues or to her brother's intestate
estate."
Winter whistled.
"My eye!" he exclaimed. "What is Capella going to get out of it?"
"Revenge! His is a legacy of hate, like most other benefactions in the
Hume-Frazer family. The next move rests with him. I wonder what it will
be!"