“Now,” went on Dick earnestly, “this fits in with a Black Hand threat the Attorney General received on Friday afternoon. He is convinced the Camorra is responsible for his wife’s murder, chiefly because he knows she lived in fear of this Giovanni Savelli. He doesn’t know why she feared him. The Black Hand letter spoke of the Fabriani Merger, but that looks to me like a blind to throw him off the trail. Can you tell me, Count, the best way to get track of this Savelli?”
De Smirnoff leaned thoughtfully back in his chair and considered the question.
“It seems to me,” he said finally, “that the person you need to put your hands on is Monsieur Clark. You heard Tamaso say that he was Savelli’s direct agent in the affair.”
Dick sat up as straight as his sore body would permit, and swore fluently. “Of course, you are right. What a blundering fool I have been.”
“You were in no condition to reason out clews last night, Monsieur,” smiled de Smirnoff, consolingly.
“I am sure your theory is right,” argued Long. “Clark must be the guilty man. He knew the combination of the safe, and he also knew when certain inmates of the house would be absent.”
“It looks plausible,” agreed Dick. “Clark may have joined the Camorra while in Naples. But he must have been very deeply involved to commit murder for this Savelli.”
“Perhaps Monsieur Clark is using the Camorra to shield his own deed,” suggested de Smirnoff, slowly. “We, in the Secret Service keep in touch with every country in the world. I recollect now that this Alfred Clark, of whom you speak, was a resident in Naples for many years. He did not have a very savory reputation. Madame Trevor, or as she was then, Hélène de Beaupré, spent several winters in that city. Monsieur Clark, before he lost his money, was her devoted lover.”
Long bent forward and helped himself to Scotch and vichy.
“The plot thickens,” he said, laconically.