In the absence of the clue which Usk possessed, public interest, though keenly excited by the tragedy, failed to seize upon its details with the wolfish eagerness which would have been aroused by any hint of the truth. It was made clear at the inquest that the murderer, who was identified as an Italian violinist named Marco Farinelli, had been known to the police for some time as an associate of foreign Republicans in London. He had lived many years in England, having just escaped the consequences of complicity in a plot against the Pannonian occupation of Venetia. His father, who had helped him to leave the country, and forcibly resisted the Pannonian soldiers sent to arrest him, had been summarily shot, and his mother, who was ill in bed, turned out in a winter night on the roadside, where she died. For nearly forty years Farinelli had cherished the memory of his wrongs, and it was shown that he was greatly excited by the news of the approaching visit to England of the Archduke Ferdinand Joachim, who had been in military command of the district in which his parents lived. It was proved that he had tried to form a band of assassins, who were to see that the Archduke did not leave London alive; but his friends had other work on hand, or preferred not to bring themselves into public notice, and he had evidently determined to accomplish his vengeance alone. In the breast-pocket of his coat was found a paper which aroused much curiosity—a kind of itinerary of London, duly mapped out into days. “Wednesday, Trafalgar Square and British Museum; Thursday, Houses of Parliament and Government Offices ...” it ran, but the Scotland Yard officials charged with the protection of the Archduke during his visit were able to explain it. Having learnt, with considerable dismay, that the distinguished visitor proposed to devote his mornings while in London to wandering about incognito, they arranged with much care a false time-table, which was allowed to circulate freely in his household. The expected leakage occurred, and the whole arrangement became known in some mysterious way to Farinelli, but while he was keeping his eager watch in the neighbourhood of the Museum, the Archduke was being conducted over the Horse-Guards. The mistake which had occurred was now perfectly clear to the jury, who had heard Usk acknowledge that there was from one point of view a certain likeness between the Archduke and Mr Steinherz, and they returned a verdict of wilful murder against the Italian, adding an expression of their sympathy with the family of the victim. In Farinelli’s case the verdict was one of accidental death, although there was some attempt to bring it in as suicide, and the jury were discharged, and the nine days’ wonder was at an end.
Maimie had found Lord Caerleon a tower of strength while the inquest was going on. He made a point of accompanying her backwards and forwards each day, and sitting beside her in court, and he was so quiet and so impassive that her restless impatience seemed to be calmed perforce. She did not fret over the fact that Lady Caerleon and Félicia were continually together; and she received with outward resignation the news which was awaiting her when the inquest ended, and which she had, indeed, foreseen. It fell to Lady Caerleon to communicate it, which she prepared to do with some anxiety, and Maimie’s lip curled when she realised what was coming. It was quite like Félicia to depute another person to make an announcement that might prove disagreeable.
“Félicia and I have been talking things over,” said Lady Caerleon, “and we think we have arranged a very pleasant plan. But of course we could not decide upon it without you.”
“I guess not, indeed. Félicia and I don’t ever act independently of one another,” returned Maimie, with sarcastic emphasis.
Lady Caerleon went on hastily. She thought she understood perfectly well the soreness which filled the heart of the girl who found herself set aside for the lover and his relations, and she was very sorry for Maimie. “It is very touching,” she said, “how stringently Mr Steinherz in his will expressed his desire to be buried in America by the side of his wife. I can quite sympathise with Félicia’s natural desire to take his body home herself, which she tells me you suggested she should do. But she is really not fit for it. I never saw any one so completely a creature of nerves. The least excitement seems to throw her into a fever, and the strain of such a journey at this time of year would be enough to kill her.”
“In other words, Fay don’t choose to risk a voyage in the fall,” said Maimie to herself, even while she was listening with polite interest to Lady Caerleon.
“And so our idea—of course I suggested it—was that Usk should cross to America with—the body, and superintend the funeral, and see that everything was done as you and Félicia would wish, and that you should both come home with us to Llandiarmid for the winter. The quiet country life would be sure to do Félicia good, and it would be the greatest pleasure to my husband and me to have young people about us again. I can’t tell you how I was dreading another winter without my daughter.”
“Lady Caerleon—” Maimie was looking at her with searching eyes—“I’d like to ask you just one question—does this bind Félicia to anything when Lord Usk comes home?”
Lady Caerleon looked surprised and somewhat annoyed. “I see nothing binding in what I have said,” she answered.
“There won’t be any doubt that Lord Usk goes as Mr Steinherz’s friend, not as Félicia’s lover—that his kindness gives him no claim on her? People look at things so differently over here.”