“A cloud!” he said. “What sort of a cloud?”
“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.”