"But a crime of this enormity..."
"Is more easily hushed up than investigated, especially when the sufferers are in a humble station of life, and cannot offer a large reward to the police."
"Mr. Somerville puts the question quite fairly," observed another gentleman. "There is nothing like public spirit to be found throughout the length and breadth of His Holiness's dominions."
"Nor justice either, it would seem, unless one can pay for it handsomely," added another.
"Nay, your long purse is not always your short cut to justice, even in Rome," said Mr. Somerville. "There was that case of the young bride who was murdered last Winter in the Palazzo Bardello. Her husband offered an immense reward—a thousand guineas English, I believe—and yet the mystery was never cleared up."
"Ay, that Palazzo Bardello murder was a tragic affair," said the bald-headed Englishman; "more tragic, on the whole, than ..."
A sudden change of expression swept over his face, and he broke off in the midst of his sentence.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I feel as if I were on the brink of a discovery."
"Plunge away, then, my dear fellow," laughed Somerville. "What is it?"
"Well, then—what if both these murders had been committed by the same hand?"