“What is the matter with you?” the English
lady asked. “Do you know those people?”
“Certainly! She is a Viennese lady,”
Countess H—— whispered; “Countess
W——.”
“Oh! Indeed you are quite mistaken; it
is a Count Savelli and his wife. They are a handsome
couple, don’t you think so?”
When the boat came nearer, she saw that in spite of
that, it was little Countess W——
and that the handsome man was her former riding-master,
whom she had married, and for whom she had bought a
title from the Pope; and as the two boats passed each
other, the short sable cloak, which was thrown carelessly
over his shoulders, exhaled, like the old cat’s
skin jacket of that impudent female circus rider,
a strong stable perfume.
An impudent theft, to a very large amount, had been
committed in the Capital. Jewels, a valuable
watch set with diamonds, his wife’s miniature
in a frame enchased with brilliants, and a considerable
sum in money, the whole amounting in value to a hundred
and fifteen thousand florins, had been stolen.
The banker himself went to the Director of Police[4]
to give notice of the robberies, but at the same time
he begged as a special favor that the investigation
might be carried on as quietly and considerately as
possible, as he declared that he had not the slightest
ground for suspecting anybody in particular, and did
not wish any innocent person to be accused.
[Footnote 4: Head of the Criminal Investigation
Department.—TRANSLATOR.]
“First of all, give me the names of all the
persons who regularly go into your bedroom,”
the police director said.
“Nobody, except my wife, my children, and Joseph,
my valet, a man for whom I would answer as I would
for myself.”
“Then you think him absolutely incapable of
committing such a deed?”
“Most decidedly I do,” the banker replied.
“Very well; then can you remember whether on
the day on which you first missed the articles that
have been stolen, or on any days immediately preceding
it, anybody who was not a member of your household,
happened by chance to go to your bedroom?”
The banker thought for a moment, and then said with
some hesitation:
“Nobody, absolutely nobody.”
The experienced official, however, was struck by the
banker’s slight embarrassment and momentary
blush, so he took his hand, and looking him straight
in the face, he said:
“You are not quite candid with me; somebody
was with you, and you wish to conceal the fact from
me. You must tell me everything.”
“No, no; indeed there was nobody here.”
“Then at present, there is only one person on
whom any suspicion can rest—and that is
your valet.”
“I will vouch for his honesty,” the banker
replied immediately.
“You may be mistaken, and I shall be obliged
to question the man.”
