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Updated: June 1, 2025
"It may indeed prove so," was the non-committal reply. Once more the discontented crease showed itself upon the coroner's forehead; and again as he turned to Brolatsky, his voice rose sharply. "Next to Antonio Spatola, who came most to Hume's place while you were there?" "The next most frequent caller," returned the clerk, "was Mr. Allan Morris." Ashton-Kirk, glancing at Pendleton, saw him start.
The violin belongs to Italy. It was the glory of Cremona, was it not? The tender hands of the Amatis, of Josef Guarnerius, of old Antonio Stradivari, placed a soul within the wooden box; and that soul is the soul of Italy!" "Haupt, a German, wrote a treatise on the violin," said Ashton-Kirk. "If you would read that " "I have read it," cried Spatola. "I have read it!
"That's what I'm trying to tell you about. Now, who bought the bayonet?" "The bayonet?" Spatola stared. "The bayonet that Hume was killed with." With a truly Latin gesture of despair, the Italian put his hands to his forehead. "Always Hume," he said. "Always Hume! I can not be free of him. He was evil!" in a sort of shrill whisper. "Even when he is dead, I am mocked by him. He was all evil!
Spatola had visitors from time to time, had he not?" But the woman shook her head. "Sometimes he had a pupil who came in the evening. But they never came more than once or twice; he generally called them thick-heads after a little, and told them they'd better go back to the grocery or butcher's shop where they belonged." "Are you quite sure that no one else ever called upon him?"
"The thing which Spatola had carried under his coat that night was a diploma which he had received from a musical conservatory in Rome. It was in a frame and so made considerable bulk. Hume had denied that afternoon that Spatola had ever studied in this particular conservatory; frantic with rage, but knowing that he was a fool for doing it, the Italian had brought his diploma as proof.
But just now," and the smile grew wider, "I've heard that Osborne is on his way to arrest Antonio Spatola." Berg was standing in the corridor waiting for the elevator when Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton came out. The big German mopped his face with a handkerchief, and said apologetically: "A man can only tell what he knows, ain't it?" Ashton-Kirk looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.
"I have rooms for nine. Just now there are seven. But only four are steadies Mr. Hertz, Mr. Crawford, Mr. Sagon and Mr. Spatola. Mr. Hertz is an inspector of the people who canvass for the city directory; he took the parlor after Mr. Spatola gave it up. He drinks a little, but he's a perfect gentleman for all that. Mr.
And, as Spatola was led gesticulating away, Pendleton said in a low tone of conviction: "I tell you, Kirk, there's your man. Besides the other things against him, he knows German." "But what of the phonographic signs?" "He knows them also. His manner proved it. As soon as you mentioned shorthand he became suspicious and showed uneasiness and anger.
"Was there no one who came to visit him while you were there during the day. No one whom he spoke of in an intimate way?" Again the clerk shook his head. Stillman began to appear nonplussed. He looked at the other, pondering and frowning through his glasses. "Who came most frequently to the store?" he inquired finally. "Why, I think Antonio Spatola," said Brolatsky. "Was he a customer?"
"His manner, partly, and then the fact that there seemed something between Mr. Hume and him something that I never understood. Mr. Morris was another one that the boss used to make game of. Not so much as he would Spatola, but still a good bit. Mr. Morris always took it with a show of good temper; but underneath I could see that he too was sometimes furious." "About what did Hume deride him?"
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