“Certainly, m’sieur,” was the courteous reply, and he conducted them both into the apartment wherein Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo had been shot down.
“Did you accompany Mademoiselle when she went to London, Giulio?” asked young Henfrey of the old Italian, after he had described to Brock exactly what had occurred.
“Yes, m’sieur,” he replied. “I was at Cromwell Road for a short time. But I do not care for London, so Mademoiselle sent me back here to look after the Villa because old Jean, the concierge, had been taken to the hospital.”
“When in London you knew some of Mademoiselle’s friends, I suppose?”
“A few—only a few,” was the Italian’s reply.
“Did you ever know a certain Mr. Benton?”
The old fellow shook his head blankly.
“Not to my knowledge, m’sieur,” he replied. “Mademoiselle had really very few friends in London. There was a Mrs. Matthews and her husband, Americans whom she met here in Monte Carlo, and Sir George Cave-Knight, who died a few weeks ago.”
“Do you remember an elderly gentleman named Henfrey calling?” asked Hugh.
Old Cataldi reflected for a moment, and then answered: