The next day, the friend and legal adviser1 of Agnes Lockwood, Mr. Troy, called on her by appointment in the evening.
Mrs. Ferrari — still persisting in the conviction of her husband’s death — had sufficiently2 recovered to be present at the consultation3. Assisted by Agnes, she told the lawyer the little that was known relating to Ferrari’s disappearance4, and then produced the correspondence connected with that event. Mr. Troy read (first) the three letters addressed by Ferrari to his wife; (secondly) the letter written by Ferrari’s courier-friend, describing his visit to the palace and his interview with Lady Montbarry; and (thirdly) the one line of anonymous5 writing which had accompanied the extraordinary gift of a thousand pounds to Ferrari’s wife.
Well known, at a later period, as the lawyer who acted for Lady Lydiard, in the case of theft, generally described as the case of ‘My Lady’s Money,’ Mr. Troy was not only a man of learning and experience in his profession — he was also a man who had seen something of society at home and abroad. He possessed6 a keen eye for character, a quaint7 humour, and a kindly8 nature which had not been deteriorated9 even by a lawyer’s professional experience of mankind. With all these personal advantages, it is a question, nevertheless, whether he was the fittest adviser whom Agnes could have chosen under the circumstances. Little Mrs. Ferrari, with many domestic merits, was an essentially10 commonplace woman. Mr. Troy was the last person living who was likely to attract her sympathies — he was the exact opposite of a commonplace man.
‘She looks very ill, poor thing!’ In these words the lawyer opened the business of the evening, referring to Mrs. Ferrari as unceremoniously as if she had been out of the room.
‘She has suffered a terrible shock,’ Agnes answered.
Mr. Troy turned to Mrs. Ferrari, and looked at her again, with the interest due to the victim of a shock. He drummed absently with his fingers on the table. At last he spoke11 to her.
‘My good lady, you don’t really believe that your husband is dead?’
Mrs. Ferrari put her handkerchief to her eyes. The word ‘dead’ was ineffectual to express her feelings. ‘Murdered!’ she said sternly, behind her handkerchief.
‘Why? And by whom?’ Mr. Troy asked.
Mrs. Ferrari seemed to have some difficulty in answering. ‘You have read my husband’s letters, sir,’ she began. ‘I believe he discovered —’ She got as far as that, and there she stopped.
‘What did he discover?’
There are limits to human patience — even the patience of a bereaved12 wife. This cool question irritated Mrs. Ferrari into expressing herself plainly at last.
‘He discovered Lady Montbarry and the Baron13!’ she answered, with a burst of hysterical14 vehemence15. ‘The Baron is no more that vile16 woman’s brother than I am. The wickedness of those two wretches17 came to my poor dear husband’s knowledge. The lady’s maid left her place on account of it. If Ferrari had gone away too, he would have been alive at this moment. They have killed him. I say they have killed him, to prevent it from getting to Lord Montbarry’s ears.’ So, in short sharp sentences, and in louder and louder accents, Mrs. Ferrari stated her opinion of the case.
Still keeping his own view in reserve, Mr. Troy listened with an expression of satirical approval.
‘Very strongly stated, Mrs. Ferrari,’ he said. ‘You build up your sentences well; you clinch19 your conclusions in a workmanlike manner. If you had been a man, you would have made a good lawyer — you would have taken juries by the scruff of their necks. Complete the case, my good lady — complete the case. Tell us next who sent you this letter, enclosing the bank-note. The “two wretches” who murdered Mr. Ferrari would hardly put their hands in their pockets and send you a thousand pounds. Who is it — eh? I see the post-mark on the letter is “Venice.” Have you any friend in that interesting city, with a large heart, and a purse to correspond, who has been let into the secret and who wishes to console you anonymously20?’
It was not easy to reply to this. Mrs. Ferrari began to feel the first inward approaches of something like hatred21 towards Mr. Troy. ‘I don’t understand you, sir,’ she answered. ‘I don’t think this is a joking matter.’
Agnes interfered22, for the first time. She drew her chair a little nearer to her legal counsellor and friend.
‘What is the most probable explanation, in your opinion?’ she asked.
‘I shall offend Mrs. Ferrari if I tell you,’ Mr. Troy answered.
‘No, sir, you won’t!’ cried Mrs. Ferrari, hating Mr. Troy undisguisedly by this time.
The lawyer leaned back in his chair. ‘Very well,’ he said, in his most good-humoured manner. ‘Let’s have it out. Observe, madam, I don’t dispute your view of the position of affairs at the palace in Venice. You have your husband’s letters to justify23 you; and you have also the significant fact that Lady Montbarry’s maid did really leave the house. We will say, then, that Lord Montbarry has presumably been made the victim of a foul24 wrong — that Mr. Ferrari was the first to find it out — and that the guilty persons had reason to fear, not only that he would acquaint Lord Montbarry with his discovery, but that he would be a principal witness against them if the scandal was made public in a court of law. Now mark! Admitting all this, I draw a totally different conclusion from the conclusion at which you have arrived. Here is your husband left in this miserable25 household of three, under very awkward circumstances for him. What does he do? But for the bank-note and the written message sent to you with it, I should say that he had wisely withdrawn26 himself from association with a disgraceful discovery and exposure, by taking secretly to flight. The money modifies this view — unfavourably so far as Mr. Ferrari is concerned. I still believe he is keeping out of the way. But I now say he is paid for keeping out of the way — and that bank-note there on the table is the price of his absence, sent by the guilty persons to his wife.’
Mrs. Ferrari’s watery27 grey eyes brightened suddenly; Mrs. Ferrari’s dull drab-coloured complexion28 became enlivened by a glow of brilliant red.
‘It’s false!’ she cried. ‘It’s a burning shame to speak of my husband in that way!’
‘I told you I should offend you!’ said Mr. Troy.
Agnes interposed once more — in the interests of peace. She took the offended wife’s hand; she appealed to the lawyer to reconsider that side of his theory which reflected harshly on Ferrari. While she was still speaking, the servant interrupted her by entering the room with a visiting-card. It was the card of Henry Westwick; and there was an ominous29 request written on it in pencil. ‘I bring bad news. Let me see you for a minute downstairs.’ Agnes immediately left the room.
Alone with Mrs. Ferrari, Mr. Troy permitted his natural kindness of heart to show itself on the surface at last. He tried to make his peace with the courier’s wife.
‘You have every claim, my good soul, to resent a reflection cast upon your husband,’ he began. ‘I may even say that I respect you for speaking so warmly in his defence. At the same time, remember, that I am bound, in such a serious matter as this, to tell you what is really in my mind. I can have no intention of offending you, seeing that I am a total stranger to you and to Mr. Ferrari. A thousand pounds is a large sum of money; and a poor man may excusably be tempted30 by it to do nothing worse than to keep out of the way for a while. My only interest, acting31 on your behalf, is to get at the truth. If you will give me time, I see no reason to despair of finding your husband yet.’
Ferrari’s wife listened, without being convinced: her narrow little mind, filled to its extreme capacity by her unfavourable opinion of Mr. Troy, had no room left for the process of correcting its first impression. ‘I am much obliged to you, sir,’ was all she said. Her eyes were more communicative — her eyes added, in their language, ‘You may say what you please; I will never forgive you to my dying day.’
Mr. Troy gave it up. He composedly wheeled his chair around, put his hands in his pockets, and looked out of window.
After an interval32 of silence, the drawing-room door was opened.
Mr. Troy wheeled round again briskly to the table, expecting to see Agnes. To his surprise there appeared, in her place, a perfect stranger to him — a gentleman, in the prime of life, with a marked expression of pain and embarrassment33 on his handsome face. He looked at Mr. Troy, and bowed gravely.
‘I am so unfortunate as to have brought news to Miss Agnes Lockwood which has greatly distressed34 her,’ he said. ‘She has retired35 to her room. I am requested to make her excuses, and to speak to you in her place.’
Having introduced himself in those terms, he noticed Mrs. Ferrari, and held out his hand to her kindly. ‘It is some years since we last met, Emily,’ he said. ‘I am afraid you have almost forgotten the “Master Henry” of old times.’ Emily, in some little confusion, made her acknowledgments, and begged to know if she could be of any use to Miss Lockwood. ‘The old nurse is with her,’ Henry answered; ‘they will be better left together.’ He turned once more to Mr. Troy. ‘I ought to tell you,’ he said, ‘that my name is Henry Westwick. I am the younger brother of the late Lord Montbarry.’
‘The late Lord Montbarry!’ Mr. Troy exclaimed.
‘My brother died at Venice yesterday evening. There is the telegram.’ With that startling answer, he handed the paper to Mr. Troy.
The message was in these words:
‘Lady Montbarry, Venice. To Stephen Robert Westwick, Newbury’s Hotel, London. It is useless to take the journey. Lord Montbarry died of bronchitis, at 8.40 this evening. All needful details by post.’
‘Was this expected, sir?’ the lawyer asked.
‘I cannot say that it has taken us entirely36 by surprise, Henry answered. ‘My brother Stephen (who is now the head of the family) received a telegram three days since, informing him that alarming symptoms had declared themselves, and that a second physician had been called in. He telegraphed back to say that he had left Ireland for London, on his way to Venice, and to direct that any further message might be sent to his hotel. The reply came in a second telegram. It announced that Lord Montbarry was in a state of insensibility, and that, in his brief intervals37 of consciousness, he recognised nobody. My brother was advised to wait in London for later information. The third telegram is now in your hands. That is all I know, up to the present time.’
Happening to look at the courier’s wife, Mr. Troy was struck by the expression of blank fear which showed itself in the woman’s face.
‘Mrs. Ferrari,’ he said, ‘have you heard what Mr. Westwick has just told me?’
‘Every word of it, sir.’
‘Have you any questions to ask?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You seem to be alarmed,’ the lawyer persisted. ‘Is it still about your husband?’
‘I shall never see my husband again, sir. I have thought so all along, as you know. I feel sure of it now.’
‘Sure of it, after what you have just heard?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Can you tell me why?’
‘No, sir. It’s a feeling I have. I can’t tell why.’
‘Oh, a feeling?’ Mr. Troy repeated, in a tone of compassionate38 contempt. ‘When it comes to feelings, my good soul —!’ He left the sentence unfinished, and rose to take his leave of Mr. Westwick. The truth is, he began to feel puzzled himself, and he did not choose to let Mrs. Ferrari see it. ‘Accept the expression of my sympathy, sir,’ he said to Mr. Westwick politely. ‘I wish you good evening.’
Henry turned to Mrs. Ferrari as the lawyer closed the door. ‘I have heard of your trouble, Emily, from Miss Lockwood. Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘Nothing, sir, thank you. Perhaps, I had better go home after what has happened? I will call to-morrow, and see if I can be of any use to Miss Agnes. I am very sorry for her.’ She stole away, with her formal curtsey, her noiseless step, and her obstinate39 resolution to take the gloomiest view of her husband’s case.
Henry Westwick looked round him in the solitude40 of the little drawing-room. There was nothing to keep him in the house, and yet he lingered in it. It was something to be even near Agnes — to see the things belonging to her that were scattered41 about the room. There, in the corner, was her chair, with her embroidery42 on the work-table by its side. On the little easel near the window was her last drawing, not quite finished yet. The book she had been reading lay on the sofa, with her tiny pencil-case in it to mark the place at which she had left off. One after another, he looked at the objects that reminded him of the woman whom he loved — took them up tenderly — and laid them down again with a sigh. Ah, how far, how unattainably far from him, she was still! ‘She will never forget Montbarry,’ he thought to himself as he took up his hat to go. ‘Not one of us feels his death as she feels it. Miserable, miserable wretch18 — how she loved him!’
In the street, as Henry closed the house-door, he was stopped by a passing acquaintance — a wearisome inquisitive43 man — doubly unwelcome to him, at that moment. ‘Sad news, Westwick, this about your brother. Rather an unexpected death, wasn’t it? We never heard at the club that Montbarry’s lungs were weak. What will the insurance offices do?’
Henry started; he had never thought of his brother’s life insurance. What could the offices do but pay? A death by bronchitis, certified44 by two physicians, was surely the least disputable of all deaths. ‘I wish you hadn’t put that question into my head!’ he broke out irritably45. ‘Ah!’ said his friend, ‘you think the widow will get the money? So do I! so do I!’
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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deteriorated
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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clinch
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| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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anonymously
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| ad.用匿名的方式 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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certified
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| a.经证明合格的；具有证明文件的 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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