The barrister surveyed the simple words with an intensity that indicated his desire to wrest from their context its hidden significance.

Winter, more subject to the influences of the hour, puffed his cigar furiously.

“You arrange your words to suit the next act for all the world like an Adelphi play,” he growled.

“I see that Holden has the same gift.  What does he mean by ‘others’?  Who is Capella bringing with him?”

“Witnesses,” volunteered Winter.

“Just so; but witnesses in what cause?”

“How the—­how can I tell?”

“By applying your borrowed logic.  Try the deductive reasoning you flung at me a while ago.”

“I don’t quite know what ‘deductive’ means,” was the sulky admission.

“That is the first step towards wisdom.  You admit ignorance.  Deduction, in this sense, is the process of deriving consequences from admitted facts.  Now, mark you.  Capella wishes to be rid of his wife, by death or legal separation.  He thinks he wants to marry Miss Layton.  He is convinced that something within his power, if done effectively, will bring about both events.  He can shunt Mrs. Capella, and so disgust Miss Layton with the Hume-Frazers that she will turn to the next ardent and sympathetic wooer that presents himself.  He knew the points of his case, and went to Naples to procure proofs.  He has obtained them.  They are chiefly living persons.  He is bringing them to England, and their testimony will convict Mrs. Capella of some wrong-doing, either voluntary or involuntary.  Holden knows what Capella has accomplished, and thinks it is unnecessary to remain longer in Naples.  He is right.  I tell you, Winter, I like Holden.”

“And I tell you, Mr. Brett, that If I swallowed the whole of Mr. Poe’s stories, I couldn’t make out Holden’s telegram in that fashion.  So I must stick to my own methods, and I’ve put away a few wrong ’uns in my time.  When shall I see you next?”

Brett took out his watch.

“At seven p.m., the day after to-morrow,” he said coolly.  “Until then my address is ‘Hotel Metropole, Brighton.’”

CHAPTER XXVI

MR. OOMA

He kept his word.  Early next morning, after despatching a message to David Hume, and receiving an answer—­an acknowledgment of his address in case of need—­he took train to London-by-the-Sea, and for thirty-six hours flung mysteries and intrigues to the winds.

He came back prepared for the approaching climax.  In such matters he was a human barometer.  The affairs of the family in whose interests he had become so suddenly involved were rapidly reaching an acute stage.  Something must happen soon, and that something would probably have tremendous and far-reaching consequences.

Capella and his companions, known and unknown, would reach London at 7.30 p.m.  It pleased Brett to time his homeward journey so that he would speed in the same direction, but arrive before them.