It was reported that her ladyship's English maid had left her,
before the disappearance of Ferrari, to return to her relatives in her
own country, and that Lady Montbarry had taken no steps to supply
her place. His lordship was described as being in delicate health.
He lived in the strictest retirement--nobody was admitted to him,
not even his own countrymen. A stupid old woman was discovered
who did the housework at the palace, arriving in the morning and
going away again at night. She had never seen the lost courier--
she had never even seen Lord Montbarry, who was then confined
to his room. Her ladyship, 'a most gracious and adorable mistress,'
was in constant attendance on her noble husband. There was no
other servant then in the house (so far as the old woman knew)
but herself. The meals were sent in from a restaurant. My lord,
it was said, disliked strangers. My lord's brother-in-law, the Baron,
was generally shut up in a remote part of the palace, occupied
(the gracious mistress said) with experiments in chemistry.
The experiments sometimes made a nasty smell. A doctor had latterly been
called in to his lordship--an Italian doctor, long resident in Venice.
Inquiries being addressed to this gentleman (a physician of undoubted
capacity and respectability), it turned out that he also had never
seen Ferrari, having been summoned to the palace (as his memorandum
book showed) at a date subsequent to the courier's disappearance.
The doctor described Lord Montbarry's malady as bronchitis.
So far, there was no reason to feel any anxiety, though the
attack was a sharp one. If alarming symptoms should appear,
he had arranged with her ladyship to call in another physician.
For the rest, it was impossible to speak too highly of my lady;
night and day, she was at her lord's bedside.

With these particulars began and ended the discoveries made by Ferrari's