"Giovanni suddenly discovered that his father and mine were deadly enemies. It was a cruel whim of Fate that brought us together. Poor fellow! He was very fond of his father, and it seems that a legacy of revenge was bequeathed to him against an Englishman named Beechcroft. I remembered, too late, that he once asked me how our house came to be so named, and I explained its English meaning to him. I joked about it, and said the place should rightly be called Yewcroft. During our honeymoon at Naples he learnt that my father, for some reason, had travelled over a large part of Italy in an assumed name--" "How did he learn this?" broke in Brett. "I cannot tell you. The affair happened like a flash of lightning. We had been to Capri one afternoon, and I was tired. I went to my room to rest for a couple of hours, fell asleep, and awoke to find Giovanni staring at me in the most terrifying manner. There was a fierce scene. We are both hot-tempered, and when he accused me of a ridiculous endeavour to hoodwink him in some indefinable way I became very indignant. We patched up a sort of truce, but I may honestly say that we have not had a moment's happiness since." "But you spoke of jealousy also?" "That is really too absurd. My cousin Robert--" "What, the gentleman from the Argentine?" "Yes; I suppose David told you about him?" "He did," said the barrister grimly. "Robert is poor, you may know. He is also very good-looking." "A family trait," Brett could not avoid saying. "It has not been an advantage to us," she replied mournfully. They were standing now opposite the library, almost on the spot where her brother fell. They turned and strolled back towards the lodge. "Robert came to see me," she resumed. "He paid a visit in unconventional manner--waylaid me, in fact, in this very avenue, and asked me to help him. He declined to meet my husband, and was very bitter about my marriage to a foreigner. However, I forgave him, for my own heart was sore in me, and he also had been unfortunate in a different way. We had a long talk, and I kissed him at parting. I afterwards found that Giovanni had seen us from his bedroom. He thought Robert was David. I do not think he believed me, even when I showed him the counterfoil of my cheque-book, and the amount of a remittance I sent to Robert next day." "How much was the sum?" "Five hundred pounds." "And where did you send it?" "To the Hotel Victoria." "In his own name?" "Certainly." "Have you ever met him since?"