I'd like to know who killed Mark, also; and you say that cloak will show it?"
"I didn't say that; but the cloak may identify the woman I wrongfully took for you.
She may have to do with the matter."
Lydia shook her pretty head.
"Not she.
Mark was as respectable as the Pegall gang; there's no woman mixed up in this matter."
"But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind of No. 13!"
"You don't say!
In Mark's sitting-room?
Well, I should smile to know he was human, after all.
He was always so precious stiff!"
Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead husband jarred on the feelings of Lucian, and in some displeasure he held his peace.
In no wise abashed, Lydia feigned to take no notice of this tacit reproof, but chatted on about all and everything in the most frivolous manner.
Not until they had entered the shop of Baxter & Co. did she resume attention to business.
"Here," she said to the smiling shopwalker, "I want to know by whom this cloak was sold, and to what person."
The man examined the cloak, and noted a private mark on it, which evidently afforded him some information not obtainable by the general public, for he guided Lucian and his companion to a counter behind which stood a brisk woman with sharp eyes.
In her turn she also examined the cloak, and departed to refresh her memory by looking at some account book.
When she returned it was to intimate that the cloak had been bought by a man.
"A man!" repeated Lucian, much astonished. "What was he like?"
"A dark man," replied the brisk shopwoman, "dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark moustache.
I remember him well, because he was a foreigner."
"A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. "A Frenchman?"
"No, madam—an Italian.
He told me as much."
"Sakes alive!" cried Mrs. Vrain. "You are right, Mr. Denzil.
It's Ferruci sure enough!"
CHAPTER XIX THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
"It is quite impossible!" cried Mrs. Vrain distractedly. "I can't believe it nohow!"
The little woman was back again in her own drawing-room, talking to Lucian about the discovery which had lately been made regarding Ferruci's purchase of the cloak.
Mrs. Vrain having proved her own innocence by the evidence of the Pegall family, was now trying to persuade both herself and Denzil that the Count could not be possibly implicated in the matter.
He had no motive to kill Vrain, she said, a statement with which Lucian at once disagreed.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vrain, he had two motives," said the barrister quickly. "In the first place, he was in love, and wished to marry you; in the second, he was poor, and wanted money.
By the death of your husband he hoped to gain both."
"He has gained neither, as yet," replied Lydia sharply. "I like Ercole well enough, and at one time I was almost engaged to him.
But he has a nasty temper of his own, Mr. Denzil, so I shunted him pretty smart to marry Mark Vrain.
I wouldn't marry him now if he dumped down a million dollars at my feet to-morrow.
Besides, poppa don't like him at all.
I've got my money, and I've got my freedom, and I don't fool away either the one or the other on that Italian dude!"
"Is the Count acquainted with these sentiments?" asked Lucian drily.
"I guess so, Mr. Denzil.
He asked me to marry him two months after Mark's death, and I just up and told him pretty plain how the cat jumped."
"In plain English, you refused him?"
"You bet I did!" cried Lydia vigorously. "So you see, Mr. Denzil, he could not have killed Mark."
"Why not?
He did not know your true mind until two months after the murder."
"That's a fact, anyhow," commented Mrs. Vrain. "But what the mischief made him buy that rabbit-skin cloak?"
"I expect he bought it for the woman I mistook for you."
"And who may she be?"
"That is just what I wish to find out.
This woman who came to Jersey Street so often wore this cloak; therefore, she must have obtained it from the Count.