“What is the matter now?” said David Hume, entering through the window.

CHAPTER XVII

“CHERCHEZ LA FEMME”

The three men drove to Stowmarket in the same vehicle, the grooms returning in the second dog-cart.

On the way Robert Frazer—­who may be designated by his second surname to distinguish him from his cousin—­was anxious to learn what had caused the present recrudescence of inquiry into Alan’s death.  This was easily explained by David, and Brett took care to confine the conversation to general details.

Frazer was naturally keen to discover how the barrister came to be so well posted in his movements, and David listened eagerly whilst Brett related enough of the stationmaster’s story to clear up that point.

Hume broke in with a laugh: 

“That shows why he was so unusually attentive when I arrived this evening.  He spotted me getting out of the train, and would not leave me until I was clear of the station.  He was evidently determined to ascertain my exact identity without any mistake, for he began by asking if I were not Mr. David Hume-Frazer, laying stress on my Christian name.  It surprised me a little, because I thought the old chap knew me well.”

“Are you both absolutely certain that there are no other members of your family in existence?” asked Brett.

“It depends on how many of our precious collection you are acquainted with,” said Robert.

“The only person Mr. Brett is not acquainted with is my father,” exclaimed David stiffly.

“I was not alluding to him, of course.  Indeed, I had no individual specially in my mind.”

“Surely you had some motive for your remark?” questioned David.  “The only remaining relative is Mrs. Capella.”

“There again—­how do you define the word ‘relative.’  I suppose, Mr. Brett, you are fairly well posted in the history of our house?”

“Yes.”

“Well, has it never struck you that there was something queer about the manner of my Uncle Alan’s marriage—­Margaret’s father, I mean?”

“Perhaps.  What do you know about it?”

“Nothing definite.  When I was a mid-shipman on board the Northumberland I have a lively recollection of a fiendish row between a man named Somers and another officer who passed some chaffing remark about my respected uncle’s goings on in Italy.  The officer in question had forgotten, or never knew, that Sir Alan married Somers’s sister—­they were Bristol people, I think—­but he stuck to it that Sir Alan had an Italian wife.  He had seen her.”

Brett was driving, Frazer sitting by his side, and David leaning over the rail from the back seat.  Had a bombshell dropped in their midst the two others could not have been more startled than by Robert’s chance observation.

“Good Heavens!” cried Hume, “why has Capella gone to Italy?”