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He affirmed that their reason for not signing what they pretended was their Emperor's and their own degradation was to give an excuse for being "sent off." Whereupon, as soon as the Governor's crafty insinuations became known, they all signed except Santini, who refused to have Napoleon described by any other term than that of Emperor.
Cipriani used all his influence to dissuade him from committing so rash an act, and finding that Santini was immovable, he reported the matter to Napoleon, who had the devoted keeper of his portfolio brought to him, and commanded him as his Emperor to cease thinking of injuring Sir Hudson.
And then there is Santini, whose wish to kill the Governor was not altogether without good reason, and who was deported from the island for this and other infringements of the regulations. The publication of his pamphlet, previously mentioned, created a great sensation, and it sold like wildfire. It was said to be fabrications, but it was not all fabrications.
"And is there no suspicion as to who is the assassin of the woman Santini and this mysterious man who posed as her husband?" "None whatever." For some time Jack Durnford smoked in silence, and I could just distinguish his white, hard face in the faint light, for it was now late, and the big electric lamps had been turned out and we were in semi-darkness.
Stephen Seignoret Rhene, Baudoin, John Goodet, Nicholas Santini, Peter de Hearse, John Pierce, John Dumaitre, and David Barreau, were impeached at the bar of the house of lords; and, pleading guilty, the lords imposed fines upon them according to their respective circumstances.
But have you actually seen Olinto Santini?" "Yes, and have spoken with him." "I sent up to London asking that inquiries should be made at the restaurant in Bayswater, but up to the present I have received no report." "I have chatted with Olinto. His wife has mysteriously disappeared, but he is in ignorance that she is dead." "You did not tell him anything?" "Nothing." "Ah, you did well.
And there are other mysteries which the English police are trying to solve, namely, the reason Armida Santini and a man disguised as her husband died in Scotland at the hand of an assassin. But surely I need say no more. It is surely sufficient to convince you that if the truth were spoken, the revelations would be distinctly awkward." "For whom?" he asked, opening his eyes. "For you.
When we were seated in his room beneath the hissing gas-jet, I related my adventure and the result of my investigation. "What?" he cried, jumping up. "You've unearthed another body a woman's?" "I have. And what is more, I can identify her," I replied. "Her name is Armida, and she was wife of the murdered man Olinto Santini." "Then both husband and wife were killed?"
I had a conversation with the Dean of Malta, a most pleasant man, lately dead; but it was about the Fathers, and the Library of the great church. I knew the Abbate Santini, at Rome, who did no more than copy for me the Gregorian tones.
And I saw that he was in deep distress, and that mention of his ailing wife had aroused within him bitter thoughts. Olinto Santini walked back at my side in the direction of Trafalgar Square, answering the questions I put to him. He had been a good, hard-working servant, and I was glad to see him again.
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