The young woman appeared relieved by Holmes’s explanation, and said: “You are most amazing, Mr. Holmes. I shall not forget easily these illustrations of your methods. I hope they can be used to help me. My name is Alice Morel, and I am indeed a musician. I have trained at the Royal Conservatory in London, and was selected to take part in the piano competition soon to take place here in Rome under the auspices of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia.”
“A singular honor,” said Holmes. “And a rather nerve-wracking one, I would imagine.”
“It is, Mr. Holmes. It means all-day practise, little sleep, and the anxious feeling that comes over one when one knows that the leading pianists of the world are the judges. Rubinstein himself is coming. Winning means a year’s study with him. And rumours are rife that Busoni and Theodor Leszhitisky will also attend.”
“I see,” said Holmes. “But, while the excitement must be great, there is something else that is producing a certain agitation in you. What is it?”
“Let me tell you how it came about. I won the preliminary competition in London two months ago, and was told to prepare for my immediate departure for Italy. Once arrived, I was to spend the next three months in preparation for the competition, which is to take place at the end of this coming August. It was made clear to me by our director that my performance would mean much to the national honour since whatever our accomplishments abroad we were not known in Europe or America as a musical nation.”
“’Tis true indeed, we English are not considered musical, a not unjust opinion of us in some ways, but not totally true on the other hand. Pray continue, Miss Morel.”
“On my arrival in Rome I was met by the British vice consul, Mr. Herbert Spenser, who helped me settle in and also to find a suitable piano on which to practise. Through the officials at the Academy he helped me find a flat on Via Ezio, off the Via Crescenzio. According to the notice, the flat was fully furnished, and I was told that it was the property of a Colonel Santoro, a military man of some note in Italy and recently retired. He seemed kind and friendly in our first meeting and showed me through the flat. Despite the disappointment in Italy at its armies’ defeat at Adowa, Santoro was one of its few heroes, and he showed me many photographs of himself and his various medals. “The flat was furnished with heavy wooden furniture from the Carpathians, somewhere in Hungary or Austria, I think, hardly to my taste, but I did not complain. Indeed, when I saw what was in the study I was overjoyed. It was a large concert grand piano, originally given to his daughter, he said, but hardly used. The piano, a Vulsin from Graz in Austria, was all I could ask for. I touched the keys and I heard the sweetest tone emanate from it. Mr. Anzio, the music publisher, had supplied it instead of offering it to some foreign potentate. Mr. Spenser had done very well by me, and I thanked him and the Colonel profusely for their help. It was precisely then that Mr. Spenser gave me this locket as a good-luck charm.”
“A Maria Theresa thaler, if I am not mistaken,” said Holmes. “May I see it?”
She handed the locket over, and Holmes examined it closely while Miss Morel continued her tale.
“With this start in my Italian adventure, I was filled with optimism and practised long and hard each day, knowing that if my work continued at that level, I surely should have a chance at first place in the competition. Then my luck began to change.”
Tears formed in her eyes, and she drew a handkerchief from her bag. She kept her composure, however, and Holmes conforted her with a soft, “Pray continue, Miss Morel, we are ready to help you.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Holmes; it has been a nightmare that perhaps only a musician could understand.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes, “I am well aware of the strictures that the musical life puts upon one. I am a violinist of sorts and know well the tensions of such a career.”
Miss Morel smiled wanly at us, and continued her account.
“The first thing was the piano. About ten days ago, after a long hard practise one morning, I went out to walk in a nearby square not far from the Tiber. I returned after but an hour and sat down at the piano eagerly without even removing my coat. Suddenly my valued friend had changed. The piano had gone badly out of tune and half of the keys in the middle register were stuck. Perplexed, I lifted the lid to see what was wrong. Like most pianists, Mr. Holmes, I know little beyond the basics of piano construction. I could see nothing amiss. The rest of the day was spent finding a piano tuner. Colonel Santoro found one who finally came that evening and restored the sound of the piano. He attributed the problem to a change in temperature and left.
“For two days, I played constantly, always fearful that if I ventured out, I would find the piano again in unplayable condition. But one day, I returned after a visit to the Academy to find two strings broken. The tuner came, and replaced them, saying that the strings appeared to have been cut by someone.”
Holmes listened with increasing interest to the young woman’s story. His expression became more serious as she spoke. He leaned forward and returned the locket to her. As he did so, he wiped his hands with a handkerchief.
“Pray, continue, Miss Morel,” he said quietly.
“After the tuner left, I sat down to play, but after a few minutes, I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I opened and found an older woman standing there, elegantly dressed, accompanied by a much younger man.
“’Scusi,’” she said in Italian, ‘sono la Signora Santoro e quest’è il mio avocato, Giorgio.’”
“I understood what she said, but impressed upon her as intelligibly as I could that I spoke little Italian. She then continued haltingly in English. I invited them in and the signora explained to me why they had come: She and the Colonel no longer lived as husband and wife but were separated, though not divorced, however, since divorce was not possible in Italy. A court had awarded her the flat. The Colonel was allowed to live in it but was not permitted to rent it to anyone. She told me that I would be served and asked to appear in court as a witness to the Colonel’s breach of their agreement. She went to great lengths, and so did her lawyer, to explain to me that they bore me no ill will but that I would have to move immediately, the sooner the better. She also asked to see the piano that the colonel had given to me for practise. She became quietly furious as she walked around it. She then stormed out, shouting that the piano too was hers. The lawyer handed me what appeared to be a summons and left.
“When they had gone, I realized that circumstances were conspiring to make the practise necessary for the competition almost impossible. To add to the matter, and even worse, an hour or so later, the Colonel appeared at the door. No sooner had he entered than he was down on his knees, pleading with me, crying and sobbing, saying, if I understood correctly, that he would be ruined if I testified in court against him.
“‘Please,’ he cried, tears running profusely down his cheeks, ‘leave as quickly as possible. I will help you.’
“I told him that I would certainly not testify against him in court and that I would be resident there for only a few more weeks. He agreed, though not without many more tears, to allow me to stay a while longer. I realised, however, that I might have made a grave error. He left, and I tried to compose myself. Exhausted, I decided to retire early.”
Holmes filled Miss Morel’s cup and asked her to continue.
“The following day was even worse. I arose and dressed and walked into the living room. There I found the Colonel sound asleep on the floor near the window. I must have uttered a cry, for he suddenly awoke and again began his soulful wailing. He asked my forgiveness for his intrusion into my privacy, but he was there because his wife had arranged it so that he could not return to his lodging. He complained bitterly about the fact that he was a war hero but in spite of that, he had to live in the gutter.