“And of what do you complain, pray?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “I chance to know Sir Charles very intimately—in fact he is a relative of mine. Therefore when I return I shall not fail to describe to him this interview.” It was the truth. Sir Charles was my cousin.
“Then why didn’t you tell me that before, my dear sir?” asked the pompous official, in an instant all smiles and graces, for he knew too well that direct complaint to the head of his department meant transference to some abominable and desolate hole in West or East Africa. “Of course, I’m only too ready and anxious to serve any friend of Sir Charles,” he assured me.
“No doubt,” I said smiling and inwardly reflecting that, happily, members of our Consular Service were not all cast in that person’s mould. Previously he had put on the airs of an Ambassador—the air he assumed, I suppose, in the drawing-rooms of democratic Milan, but now he was all obsequiousness, declaring himself ready and anxious to carry out my smallest wishes in every respect.
“Well,” I said, regarding him contemptuously, “I can only tell you that the tragic affair that has just occurred concerns the honour of one of the greatest houses in England. I cannot be more explicit, otherwise I should betray a confidence. I am accused of murder, but I am, of course, innocent.”
“Of course,” he said. “Of course! These fools of police are always trying to parade their wonderful intelligence. But,” he added, “how are you going to prove yourself innocent?”
Strangely enough that very serious question had never occurred to me. I was in a country where the law regarded me as guilty, and not in England, where I should be looked upon as innocent until convicted.
I was silent, for I saw myself in a very serious predicament.
I would have asked him to telegraph to Keene or to Lolita, but I feared to give him the address lest he should institute inquiries, and I had no wish to mix up Lord Stanchester or his sister with the terrible affair.
“The only course I can suggest is the engagement of a good criminal counsel who will, without doubt, secure your acquittal at once when the case comes on for trial,” remarked the Consul. “Why the police arrested you appears to be an utter enigma, but in Italy it is not extraordinary. They had to make an arrest, so they detained you.”