"What do you mean, Count? I do not quite follow you."
"Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to injure me," said the Italian rapidly, "and so make theirself like me to buy that cloak. Ah! you see? But he could not make himself as tall as me. Oh, yes, sir, I am sure it is so."
"Do you know any one who would disguise himself so as to implicate you in the murder?"
"No." Ferruci shook his head. "I cannot think of one man—not one."
"Do you know a man called Wrent?" asked Lucian abruptly.
"I do not, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci at once. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I thought he might be the man to disguise himself. But no," added Lucian, remembering Rhoda's account of Wrent's white hair and beard, "it cannot be him. He would not sacrifice his beard to carry out the plan; in fact he could not without attracting Rhoda's attention."
"Rhoda! Wrent! What strange names you talk of!" cried Ferruci vivaciously.
"No stranger than that of your friend Jorce."
Ferruci laughed. "Oh, he is altogether most strange. You see."