The President had already disposed of half a dozen undefended suits, when the case of Willoughby versus Willoughby and Lapasque had been called on.
“Pardon me, Mr Grover. My attention was diverted for the moment, and I did not catch your opening sentences,” the judge was saying to counsel for the petitioner.
“The facts of the case before you, m’lord, are briefly these,” exclaimed the barrister, recommencing. “The petitioner, Captain Willoughby, late of the 10th Hussars, married the respondent, a French subject, at St. Mary Abbot’s, Kensington, in June, 1884. The parties lived happily at Brighton, Leeds, Toulon, and other places until about a year had elapsed, when frequent quarrels arose. The petitioner discovered that his wife was carrying on an intrigue with a wealthy young man named Arthur Kingscote, with whom she had been acquainted before marriage. This led to an encounter between the two men at a Manchester hotel, with the result that my client was severely injured in the head, in consequence of which petitioner took proceedings against Kingscote, who was fined at the Manchester Police Court for the assault. This apparently incensed the respondent, and quarrels became of more frequent occurrence, until one day, while living at San Remo, Mrs Willoughby left her home unexpectedly, and never returned. Eventually, after a long series of inquiries, the petitioner found that his wife was living at Nice, and that she had formed a liaison with the co-respondent, Gustava Lapasque, who is one of the officials connected with the Casino at Monte Carlo. The evidence I shall call before you, m’lord, will prove the latter part of my statement; and as I understand there is no one present representing either respondent or co-respondent, I shall ask your lordship to pronounce the decree usual in such a case.”
The captain having briefly borne out the statement of his counsel, the latter turned to the usher, saying—
“Call Giovanni Moretti, please.”
In a few minutes a dapper and rather well-dressed Italian stepped into the witness-box.
“What are you, Signore Moretti?” asked Mr Grover, when the witness had been sworn and his name taken.
“Head waiter at the Hôtel Victoria, Nice,” he replied in broken English.
“Do you recognise this lady?” counsel asked, handing up a cabinet photograph of Valérie.
“Yes,” he said, taking a long glance at it. “The lady is Madame Lapasque.”