“Mr. Capella. Yes.”
“Then you can, indeed, be of much assistance. This gentleman is Mrs. Capella’s cousin, Mr. David Hume-Frazer.”
“Corpo di Baccho!”
The Italian was completely taken by surprise. His eyebrows suddenly stood out in a ridge. His sallow skin could not become more pallid; to show emotion he flushed a swarthy red. Beyond the involuntary exclamation in his own language, he could not find words.
“Yes,” explained the smiling Brett, “he is a near relative of yours by marriage. We were told by the lodge-keeper that Mrs. Capella was indisposed, but under the circumstances we felt assured that she would receive her cousin—unless, that is, she is seriously ill.”
“It is an unexpected pleasure, this visit.”
Capella replied to the barrister, but looked at Hume. He had an unpleasant habit of parting his lips closely to his teeth, like the silent snarl of a dog.
“Undoubtedly. We both apologise for not having prepared you.”
Brett’s smooth, even voice seemed to exasperate the other, who continued to block the library window in uncompromising manner.
“And you, sir. May I ask who you are?”