Lucca," said the prosaic Gregson, laying his hand
upon the lady's sleeve with as little sentiment as if she were a
Notting Hill hooligan, "I am not very clear yet who you are or
what you are; but you've said enough to make it very clear that
we shall want you at the Yard."
"One moment, Gregson," said Holmes. "I rather fancy that this
lady may be as anxious to give us information as we can be to get
it. You understand, madam, that your husband will be arrested
and tried for the death of the man who lies before us? What you
say may be used in evidence. But if you think that he has acted
from motives which are not criminal, and which he would wish to
have known, then you cannot serve him better than by telling us
the whole story."
"Now that Gorgiano is dead we fear nothing," said the lady. "He
was a devil and a monster, and there can be no judge in the world
who would punish my husband for having killed him."
"In that case," said Holmes, "my suggestion is that we lock this
door, leave things as we found them, go with this lady to her
room, and form our opinion after we have heard what it is that
she has to say to us."
Half an hour later we were seated, all four, in the small
sitting-room of Signora Lucca, listening to her remarkable
narrative of those sinister events, the ending of which we had
chanced to witness. She spoke in rapid and fluent but very
unconventional English, which, for the sake of clearness, I will
make grammatical.
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