handsome man of
thirty-five. He was dark, slender, and tall, with dark, flashing eyes, a
heavy black moustache, and an alert military look about him which showed
that he had served in the army. The above description savours a trifle
of the impossible hero of a young lady's dream; and, as a matter of
fact, Ferruci was not unlike that ideal personage. He had all the looks
and graces which women admire, and seemed honest and fiery enough in a
manly way--the last person, as Lucian thought, to gain his aims by
underhand ways, or to kill a helpless old man. But Lucian, legally
experienced in human frailty, was not to be put off with voluble
conversation and outward graces. He wished for proofs of innocence, and
these he tried to obtain as soon as Ferruci drew breath in his fiery
harangue.

"If you are innocent, Count," said Lucian, in reply to the fluent,
incorrect English of the Italian, "appearances are against you. However,
you can prove yourself innocent, if you will."

"Sir!" cried Ferruci, "is not my word good?"

"Not good enough for an English court," replied Lucian coldly. "You say
you were not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve. Who can prove that?"

"My friend--my dear friend, Dr. Jorce of Hampstead, sir. I was with him;
oh, yes, sir, he will tell you so."

"Very good! I hope his evidence will clear you," replied the more
phlegmatic Englishman. "And this cloak?"

"I never bought the cloak! I saw it not before!"

"Then come with me to the shop in Bayswater, and hear what the girl who
sold it says."

"I will come at once!" cried Ferruci hastily, catching up his cane and
hat. "Come, then, my friend! Come! What does the woman say?"

"That she sold the cloak to a tall man--to a dark man with a moustache,
and one who told her he was Italian."

"Bah!" retorted the Count, as they hailed a hansom. "Is all that she can
say? Why, all we Italians are supposed to be tall and dark, and wear
moustaches. Your common people in England never fancy one of us can be
fair."

"You are not fair," replied Lucian drily, "and your looks correspond to
the description."

"True! Oh, yes, sir! But that description might describe a dozen of my
countrymen. And, Mr. Denzil," added the Count, laughing, "I do not go
round about saying to common people that I am an Italian. 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