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Updated: May 23, 2025
Little odds and ends now; a hint at one time; a word dropped at another; these things picked up naturally by feminine curiosity and retailed thoughtlessly under Samoval's charming suasion and display of Britannic sympathies. And Samoval has the devil's own talent for bringing together the pieces of a puzzle. Take the lines now: you may have parted with no details.
"I should not make too sure of that," Samoval warned him. "And you have overlooked something." The major glanced at the Count sharply and without satisfaction. He accounted himself trained as he had been under the very eye of the great Emperor of some force in strategy and tactics, a player too well versed in the game to overlook the possible moves of an opponent.
"You need but to look to take the answer for yourself," said he. Sir Terence looked, and laughed. He knew the sect of Ned Tremayne's heart and could laugh now with relish at that which hitherto had left him darkly suspicious. "And who shall blame Lady O'Moy?" Count Samoval pursued.
"There is," Major Swan was saying, "just one other matter upon which I should like to question Lady O'Moy." And thereupon he proceeded to do so: "Your ladyship will remember that on the day before the event in which Count Samoval met his death he was one of a small luncheon party at your house here in Monsanto." "Yes," she replied, wondering fearfully what might be coming now.
"Why, Colonel!" cried Tremayne, holding out his hand. "I didn't know you were in Lisbon." "I arrived only this afternoon." The keen eyes flashed after the disappearing figures of Sylvia and her cavalier. "Tell me, what is the name of the irresistible gallant who has so lightly ravished you of your quite delicious companion?" "Count Samoval," said Tremayne shortly.
"Well, then, you fetched the guard. What happened when you returned?" "Colonel Grant arrived, sir, and I understood him to say that he had been following Count Samoval..." "Which way did Colonel Grant come?" put in the president. "By the gate from the terrace." "Was it open?" "No, sir. Sir Terence himself went to open the wicket when Colonel Grant knocked."
Yet Count Samoval, one of the largest landowners in the north, and the nobleman who has perhaps suffered most severely from that policy, represents himself as its most vigorous supporter." Lady O'Moy listened in growing amazement. Also she was a little shocked.
For two days and a night he was a sort of shuttlecock tossed between these alternating moods, and he was still the same when he paced the quadrangle with bowed head and hands clasped behind him awaiting Samoval at a few minutes before twelve of the following night. The windows that looked down from the four sides of that enclosed garden were all in darkness.
Failing that, nothing short of the discovery of the real slayer of Samoval could save him and that was a matter wrapped in the profoundest mystery. The only man who could conceivably have fought Samoval in such a place was Sir Terence himself.
"What else, my lord, in all our interests?" exclaimed the Secretary, and he rose in his agitation. "And what of British justice, sir?" demanded his lordship in a forbidding tone. "British justice has reason to consider itself satisfied. British justice may assume that Count Samoval met his death in the pursuit of his treachery.
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