She shook her head mournfully, and a faint smile played about her lips. But she did not reply.
“Tell me more about Mrs. Cullerton,” I went on. “She was in Florence when you were there.”
“In Florence!” exclaimed the girl, as though amazed. “What could she be doing there?”
“She was living in a furnished villa with her husband. And she went on several visits to Mr. De Gex who lives up at Fiesole. Are you quite sure you do not know him?” I asked. “He lives at the Villa Clementini. Have you ever been there? Does the Villa Clementini recall anything to you?”
She was thoughtful for a few moments, and then said:
“I seem to have heard of the villa, but in what connexion I do not recollect.”
“You are certain you do not know the owner of the villa?” I asked again, and described him once more very minutely.
But alas! her mind seemed a perfect blank.
For what reason had Moroni come to London and taken her with him to Florence? But for the matter of that, what could be the motive of the whole puzzling affair—and further, whose was the body that had been cremated?
The points I had established all combined to form an enigma which now seemed utterly beyond solution.