“There might well be other reasons,” thought Brett, glancing at the beautiful and stately woman by his side.  But it was no moment for idle compliments.

“Such things have been done,” he said drily.

“Then disabuse your mind of the idea.  He is a very proud man.  His estates are involved, and in our first few days of happiness we did indeed discuss the means of freeing them, whilst our marriage contract stipulates that in the event of either of us predeceasing the other, and there being no children, the survivor inherits.  But all at once a cloud came between us, and Giovanni has curtly declined any assistance by me in discharging his family debt.”

Brett could not help remembering Capella’s passionate declaration to Helen, but Margaret’s words read a new meaning into it.  Possibly the Italian was only making a forlorn hope attack on a country maiden’s natural desire to shine amidst her friends.  Well, time would tell.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Capella’s outburst of confidence was valuable.

“A cloud!” he said.  “What sort of a cloud?”

“Giovanni suddenly discovered that his father and mine were deadly enemies.  It was a cruel whim of Fate that brought us together.  Poor fellow!  He was very fond of his father, and it seems that a legacy of revenge was bequeathed to him against an Englishman named Beechcroft.  I remembered, too late, that he once asked me how our house came to be so named, and I explained its English meaning to him.  I joked about it, and said the place should rightly be called Yewcroft.  During our honeymoon at Naples he learnt that my father, for some reason, had travelled over a large part of Italy in an assumed name—­”

“How did he learn this?” broke in Brett.

“I cannot tell you.  The affair happened like a flash of lightning.  We had been to Capri one afternoon, and I was tired.  I went to my room to rest for a couple of hours, fell asleep, and awoke to find Giovanni staring at me in the most terrifying manner.  There was a fierce scene.  We are both hot-tempered, and when he accused me of a ridiculous endeavour to hoodwink him in some indefinable way I became very indignant.  We patched up a sort of truce, but I may honestly say that we have not had a moment’s happiness since.”

“But you spoke of jealousy also?”

“That is really too absurd.  My cousin Robert—­”

“What, the gentleman from the Argentine?”

“Yes; I suppose David told you about him?”

“He did,” said the barrister grimly.

“Robert is poor, you may know.  He is also very good-looking.”

“A family trait,” Brett could not avoid saying.

“It has not been an advantage to us,” she replied mournfully.

They were standing now opposite the library, almost on the spot where her brother fell.  They turned and strolled back towards the lodge.