"All my friends. I used to laugh at his serious ways, when I, older and much more experienced in some respects, treated life as a tiresome joke. But none of my friends were commissioned to murder my brother so that I might obtain the estate, Mr. Brett." "Not by you," he said thoughtfully. He knew well that to endeavour to get Margaret to implicate her husband would merely render her an active opponent. She loved this Italian scamp. She was profoundly thankful that David Hume had come back to claim the hand of Helen Layton, the woman who had been the unwilling object of Capella's wayward affections. She would be only too glad to give half her property to the young couple if they would settle in New Zealand or Peru--far from Beechcroft. Yet it was impossible to believe that she could love a man whom she suspected of murdering her brother. Why, then, had husband and wife drifted apart? Assuredly the pieces of the puzzle were inextricably mixed. "Where did you marry Mr. Capella?" asked Brett suddenly. "At Naples--a civil ceremony, before the Mayor, and registered by the British Consul." "Had you been long acquainted" "I met him, oddly enough, in Covent Garden Theatre, the night my brother was killed" It was now Brett's turn to be startled. "Are you quite certain of this?" he asked, his surprise at the turn taken by the conversation almost throwing him off his guard. "Positive. Were you led to believe that Giovanni was the murderer?" Her voice was cold, impassive, marvellously under control. It warned him, threw him back into the safe rôle of Hume's adviser and friend. "I am led to believe nothing at present," he said slowly. "This inquiry is, as yet, only twenty-four hours old so far as I am concerned. I am seeking information. When I am gorged with facts I proceed to digest them." "Well, what I tell you is true. There are no less than ten people, all living, I have no doubt, who can testify to its correctness. I had a box at the Fancy Dress Ball that New Year's Eve. I invited nine guests. One of them, an attaché at the Italian Embassy, brought Giovanni and introduced him to me. We were together from midnight until 4.30 a.m. Whilst poor Alan was lying here dead, I was revelling at a _bal masqué_. Do you think I am likely to forget the circumstances?" The icy tones thrilled with pitiful remembrance. But the barrister's task required the unsparing use of the probe. He determined, once and for all, to end an unpleasant scene. "Will you tell me why you and your husband have, shall we say, disagreed so soon after your marriage? You were formed by Providence and nature to be mated. What has driven you apart?" The woman flushed scarlet under this direct inquiry. "I cannot tell you," she said brokenly, "but the cause--in no way--concerns--either my brother's death--or David's innocence. It is personal--between Giovanni and myself. In God's good time, it may be put right."