It is not my custom to explain."
Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and said no more until they entered the shop in Bayswater.
As he knew from the previous visit where the saleswoman was located, he led the Count rapidly to the place.
The girl was there, as brisk and businesslike as ever.
She looked up as they approached, and came forward to serve them, with a swift glance at both.
"I am sorry to trouble you again," said Lucian ceremoniously, "but you told me yesterday that you sold a blue cloak, lined with rabbit skin, to an Italian gentleman, and—"
"And am I the gentleman?" interrupted Ferruci. "Did I buy a cloak?"
"No," replied the shopwoman, after a sharp glance. "This is not the gentleman who bought the cloak."
CHAPTER XX A NEW DEVELOPMENT
"You see, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci, turning triumphantly to Lucian, "I did not buy this cloak; I am not the Italian this lady speaks of."
Lucian was extremely astonished at this unexpected testimony in favour of the Count, and questioned the shopwoman sharply.
"Are you certain of what you say?" he asked, looking at her intently.
"Yes, I am, sir," replied the girl stiffly, as though she did not like her word doubted. "The gentleman who bought the cloak was not so tall as this one, nor did he speak English well.
I had great difficulty in learning what he wanted."
"But you said that he was dark, with a moustache—and—"
"I said all that, sir; but this is not the gentleman."
"Could you swear to it?" said Lucian, more chagrined than he liked to show to the victorious Ferruci.
"If it is necessary, I could, sir," said the shopwoman, with the greatest confidence.
And after so direct a reply, and such certain evidence, Denzil had nothing to do but retire from an awkward position as gracefully as he could.
"And now, sir," said Ferruci, who had followed him out of the shop, "you come with me, please."
"Where to?" asked Lucian gloomily.
"To my friend—to my rooms.
I have shown I did not buy the cloak you speak of.
Now we must find my friend, Dr. Jorce, to tell you I was not at Jersey Street when you say."
"Is Dr. Jorce at your rooms?"
"I asked him to call about this time," said Ferruci, glancing at his watch. "When Mrs. Vrain speak to me of what you say I wish to defend myself, so I write last night to my friend to talk with you this day.
I get his telegram saying he would come at two hours."
Lucian glanced in his turn at his watch.
"Half-past one," he said, beckoning to a cab.
"Very good, Count, we will just have time to get back to your place."
"And what you think now?" said Ferruci, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes.
"I do not know what to think," replied Lucian dismally, "save that it is a strange coincidence that another Italian should have bought the cloak."
The Count shrugged his shoulders as they got into the hansom, but he did not speak until they were well on their way back to Marquis Street. He then looked thoughtfully at his companion.
"I do not believe coincidence," he said abruptly, "but in design."
"What do you mean, Count?
I do not quite follow you."
"Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to injure me," said the Italian rapidly, "and so make theirself like me to buy that cloak.
Ah! you see?
But he could not make himself as tall as me.
Oh, yes, sir, I am sure it is so."
"Do you know any one who would disguise himself so as to implicate you in the murder?"
"No." Ferruci shook his head. "I cannot think of one man—not one."
"Do you know a man called Wrent?" asked Lucian abruptly.
"I do not, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci at once. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I thought he might be the man to disguise himself. But no," added Lucian, remembering Rhoda's account of Wrent's white hair and beard, "it cannot be him.
He would not sacrifice his beard to carry out the plan; in fact he could not without attracting Rhoda's attention."
"Rhoda! Wrent! What strange names you talk of!" cried Ferruci vivaciously.
"No stranger than that of your friend Jorce."
Ferruci laughed.
"Oh, he is altogether most strange.