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"
"Well, the waiter Olinto Santini is alive and well in London."
"What!" he gasped, starting up. "Then he is not the person you
identified him to be?"
"No. But he was masquerading as Santini--made up to resemble him, I
mean, even to the mole upon his face."
"But you identified him positively?"
"When a person is dead it is very easy to mistake countenances. Death
alters the countenance so very much."
"That's true," he said reflectively. "But if the man we've buried is not
the Italian, then the mystery is considerably increased. Why was the
real man's wife here?"
"And where has her body been concealed? That's the question."
"Again a mystery. We have made a thorough search for four days, without
discovering any trace of it. Quite confidentially, I'm wondering if this
man Chater knows anything. It is curious, to say the least, that the
Leithcourts should have fled so hurriedly on this man's appearance. But
have you actually seen Olinto Santini?"
"Yes, and have spoken with him.


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