"He swore he would kill Leopold Verschoyle if he got the chance, and he has kept his word. I was on board and saw him." "Saw him commit the crime!" "Not so much as that," she replied; "but I will explain. I met my husband in Valletta, and went on board to see him." "You denied doing so in your letter to Vassalla," said Foster. "Ah! he showed you that--it was to save him I wrote it. I am the only witness who could prove him guilty, and I said I was not on board, so in the case of his being found out, I would not have to appear against him." "How was the crime committed?" asked Ronald. "I saw my husband on board, but did not speak to him. I heard him mention the number of his cabin to you, and then leave. Matteo Vassalla, who was beside me, followed him." "And you?" "I remained where I was, but I did not think Matteo was going to commit a crime, or I would have gone with him." "When did you see Vassalla again?" "I went to my husband's cabin, and met Vassalla coming out. He tried to prevent me from going in, but I entered, and saw my husband dead, with Matteo's stiletto in his breast. Matteo implored me to be silent, and I obeyed. I went on shore at once, and wrote the letter you saw. I would have kept silent still, only I heard that he was going to marry my sister, and determined to save her." "You say Vassalla's stiletto was in poor Verschoyle's breast," said Foster quietly, fixing his keen eyes on her face. "Will you kindly describe the weapon?" "An ordinary stiletto," she replied, "with a curiously carved ivory handle, representing the head of Bacchus surrounded with wreaths of grapes and vine leaves." "Yes, that is the description of the weapon," said Foster; "but how do you know it was Vassalla's?" "Because my sister told me she had given it to him." Ronald started, and would have spoken, as he remembered Carmela had said the same thing; but Foster stopped him. "You say," observed the barrister, smoothly, "that Miss Cotoner gave your cousin the stiletto; may I ask when?" "Oh, six or seven years ago." "And it has been in Vassalla's possession ever since?" "Yes," defiantly; "who else could have it?" Foster made no answer, so Ronald took up the conversation. "What motive had Vassalla for committing this crime?" he asked, in a puzzled tone; "he would not have nourished revenge all these years." "Ah, you don't know a Maltese gentleman," said Mrs. Verschoyle; "he never forgets an insult. My husband insulted him seven years ago, and he swore he would kill him. It is like the Corsican Vendetta with us." "Are you prepared to make this statement in a court of law?" asked Foster, eyeing her keenly. "Yes! I will swear to it on the cross." "Vassalla will have to be arrested." "Of course," she retorted, defiantly. "I want him to be arrested." "For the murder of your husband at Valletta?" "Yes!" "Good! We will go up to London to-night, and take out a warrant." "The sooner the better!" she said, vindictively.