Once started, the poor man could only babble on without stopping. Holmes recorded his very words in order to examine them thoroughly later.
“Nullo saccio, era ‘bbastanza grande, cumma se fosse nu cane, o forse na specie da ’attu, o magara na gatta da muntagna. Da golora neru, o forsa brunnu. capedda’ morbida, cumma nu ucedd. M’a morso achi, e poi s’e na scapadda.” (I don’t know, it was fairly big, like a dog, or maybe a cat, or maybe a mountain cat. Black, or maybe brown. Soft fur, like bird feathers maybe. It bit me here, and then ran away.)
“Io su nadu qui, ajju passadu la vida mia indera da rachhenna, ma vi digo che io non va chhiu da sola fuora la sera, eppura la famiglia resta a casa e non va fuora. Ghistu paes non e cumma era primu. E non sara mai cumma era. Adessu, lu Diavolu se stessu s’e messu fra noi e Diu. Sima tudda disgraziad’, non sima mangha cristian’. Lu malocch’ e benuda cu’ ghista genda schifosa indian’. Bisogna che se na andassa da chi. So’ cumma i zingara.” (I was born here, I have passed my entire life here, but I tell you that I no longer go out at night, and my family also stays home and doesn’t go out. This place is no longer the way it was. And it will never be the way it was. The devil has put himself between us and God. We are all unfortunates, we are not even Christians any more. The evil eye has come with these Indian people. They have to go away from here. They’re like the Gypsies.”)
Amendola suddenly became silent. Holmes thanked him for his words and then said: “Despite your fears, I intend to visit the forest tonight. Will you come with me?”
“No, mai. Se matt cumma tuda sti ingles.” (No, never. You are crazy like all these English.”)
The conversation ended abruptly when the old man said he wanted to answer no further questions, Holmes and I took our leave and together with Niccolini began the walk back to the hotel. I noted that Habib left without a word.
It was by now late afternoon. As we entered, Niccolini was handed a note by the door man.
“Some troubling news,” he said. “I have learned in the market in Amalfi that among the baggage brought by Habib was a large box that apparently contained something live, either a large bird of prey, or perhaps a large dog. And a message from Grimaldi that Sir Jaswant did not go to Switzerland at all, but after receiving an urgent message from Habib, went to the French-Italian border where the police were ready to seize a large black box. I gather that the local French douanes submitted to temptation and allowed the box through, as did the Italians for presumably the same fee. Because of his position and power, neither police demanded to know from Singh what was in the crate but let it pass. Habib then arrived with the box and without further incident.”
Holmes smiled and said, “Troubling, but helpful, caro Niccolini, I think that the thought that Habib may be covering up for his master has occurred to all of us. But let us now visit Lady Singh herself.”
The convent lay about a mile down the long hill from Ravello, off the main road and down a dirt path. It appeared more Moorish than Italian in appearance, perhaps originally an old fort. The nuns were of a pious meditative order and found the presence of three men most difficult until they discovered that we wished to see Lady Singh. We were not allowed beyond the gate and were asked to wait outside in the garden, where the lady appeared almost immediately. She was a tall woman, handsome rather than beautiful, of considerable dignity, whose anxious expression spoke eloquently of the tension under which she had been since the terrible incidents at her villa had begun. She greeted us with warmth, however, obviously trying to control her fears as she spoke.
“Welcome, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. I am greatly relieved that you have chosen to come. Mr. Holmes, I have heard much about you from my sister, Lady Maxwell.”
I saw a look of surprise move over Holmes’s face.
“I did not know that she was your sister. Indeed, I have often wondered how she fared after the terrible incidents in Calcutta.”
“She is well, and will be here shortly. She has left England and is residing in the Val d’Orcia near Pienza, just a few hours from Rome. But she will explain all to you herself. Tell me Mr. Holmes, have you discovered what the monster is?”
“No, my lady, but I have several theories. Perhaps you could relate to me your experience, however distasteful that may be.”
“I have told all to the police, but it may help if I repeat what I remember,” she began. “Sir Jaswant and I arrived here three weeks ago. We began our usual schedule, staying at the albergo while the house was readied for us. My husband in retrospect seemed preoccupied with his bank. About a week after our arrival, he informed me that Habib had wired saying that questions had arisen in Switzerland and that he would have to go to Zurich. I was disappointed of course, but I was buoyed by his belief that it would be a short trip. Nothing occurred until a week after his departure. Habib arrived with more of our belongings a few days after Jaswant left and told me that my husband would be further delayed. I was again disappointed but glad to see Habib and the safe arrival of our belongings.”
“It was just over a week ago when I heard the terrible sounds. It must have been around three in the morning when they began, low growls, moans if you will, coming from some unknown place. At first I thought they were the growls of a dog or a cat, but they soon took on the eerie sound of something I had not heard before. Terrified, I rang the bell. No one came at first. I screamed in terror, and finally the servants came. Habib was nowhere to be found. When he appeared a while later, he said that he had fallen into a deep sleep and had heard nothing.
“It was then that I insisted on a separate guard in the house. Habib made a rapid search through the house but found nothing. I went back to my room but could not sleep. I heard nothing more except rustling in the trees, which I took to be the early morning breeze.
“At daybreak, I left the house and asked the servants to make a complete search. In the afternoon, Habib reported that nothing had been found and that in all likelihood it was a stray animal and that he was convinced that the house was safe. I insisted on my stipulation that a guard be hired. The old man Amendola was employed. I felt relieved that day and laughed at my own fear. It was, after all, only another monster in the attic. But that night the growls occurred again, and when I rushed to the landing I saw Amendola bleeding badly. Poor man, he was almost unconscious when the servants rushed in and saved him. Habib this time was immediately present, terrified himself it looked. He scoured the place but found nothing.”
Holmes listened intently. She spoke without guile, but filled with dread, to me very bravely under the circumstances.
“Your account differs almost not at all with that of the others with whom we have spoken. But, tell me, is there anyone who might wish you and your husband ill and want you to abandon your beautiful villa?”
“I know of no one, Mr. Holmes. Everything has been peaceful and the local population more than generous with our eccentricities. Two years ago, my husband told me that he was having difficulty with the bank and that he would have to spend more time in Europe. He has been deeply preoccupied ever since, even though he has admitted to me that the bank has never been in better circumstances.”
“And you have no idea what preoccupies him at this point?”
“No, I do not. We have grown apart these last few years. I make no secret of it, and we were hoping to grow closer while here.”
“I assume that you did not meet in India.”
Lady Singh smiled. “No, I have never been, and my husband is hardly Indian, having lived so long in England. My sister, Lady Maxwell, is responsible for our meeting. Upon her return from India and its disastrous toll on her, she decided to live in Italy. One of the things that she inherited from her husband was a large tract of land near Pienza in the Val d’Orcia. It was an unfortunate purchase by his father for he found that he had been duped and that he had acquired a mud swamp infested with malarial mosquitoes. He himself contracted the disease, and it is our belief that his premature death was caused in part by the infection. The only good thing was the old villa which, with some repairs, could be made entirely livable.