Between the Thames and the Tiber

“Forgive me, Watson. I should have asked you to examine the corpse as well. We would have benefited from your opinion, but I doubt that it would have differed substantially from mine. The hands alone would tell you, Watson. They are the hands of a workman, a mason probably. The rough skin is not the result of the Tiber’s waters but of a lifetime of heavy work. The scarred nails filled with stone dust and mortar were so part of the man that they survived a long bath in the Tiber. Poor fellow, he did not die of drowning in the Tiber but of a fall. I detected multiple fractures of the ribs, and a bad concussion that probably killed him. And one more thing.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“Grimaldi knows as well as we do that this is not the body of Cardinal Corelli.”

I was completely perplexed by this statement.

“But why the further ruse?

“Ah,” said Holmes, “Grimaldi is an old tiger, clever and tenacious. He has joined the fray. He knows, as do all Italians, that the Church is first a human institution, and that it runs on human principles, however much those who run it would have it otherwise. The long reign of Leo the Thirteenth is now drawing to a close, and we are witnessing the first signs of the struggle for power. It has already begun. Indeed, it began with the disappearance of Cardinal Corelli. It will end only when a new pope is elected. These men will do anything to control the Papacy. And all of Italy.”

Holmes looked at his watch. “By now, Watson, Grimaldi will have announced the news from the Palazzo della Giustizia. Rome will be filled with it. It is therefore time for us to pay a call on Cardinal Spontini, a most jubilant prelate at this moment, but one destined for an inevitable fall.”

As we entered the Vatican, we were directed to Spontini’s office. Suor Angelica was there. She had been crying, for she had just received the news of the death of Cardinal Corelli. Spontini led her out as we entered.

“Let her not go far,” said Holmes.

“As you wish, Mr. Holmes.” He told Suor Angelica to remain and closed the door. As he returned to his seat I observed him. A short but elegant man with silver hair, he was what I would have thought the great French cardinals looked like. This one resembled, if anything, an Italianate Richelieu.

“The terrible news is upon us, and I have just informed the Holy Father, who was distraught when I told him,” said he.

“Indeed,” said Holmes, “we have just come from the morgue.”

“I too visited and of course identified the body.”

Holmes was silent for a moment. His face was without expression when he began to speak.

“A mistake, indeed perhaps a grave one on your part, Your Excellency, for as you well know the body is not that of Cardinal Corelli. You, a prince of church, have committed a false identification at the Palazzo della Giustizia . . . Grimaldi’s trap, I think.”

The Cardinal showed no emotion.

“I made an honest identification.” he said firmly.

“La sua posizione, caro mio,” said Holmes bitingly, “e ancora piu gravissima. For not only did you willfully and most falsely identify the corpse, you had it put there to float in the Tiber.”

Spontini grew angry. “Be careful, Mr. Holmes, you are speaking to a prince of the Church,” said he.

Holmes ignored his remark and continued.

“I noticed, caro principe, upon our first visit here that scaffolding had been raised on the east side of this building. In talking to the masons, I learned that one of them, one Francesco Sarubbi, fell to his death two weeks ago. He was buried in a local potters’ field since he had apparently no family. A talk with the custodian at the cemetery confirmed that the body was exhumed by orders from the Vatican, from the head of the Propaganda Fide, a position that only you hold, if I am not mistaken. It is the body of the poor Sarubbi that lies in the morgue.”

“Basta con queste bugie,” said Spontini.

“But there is more, far more. You are also the head of a long-banned cell within the Propaganda Fide known as La Faccia Vermiglia, the Vermilion Face, if you will. Its purpose is the purification of the clergy of the Church. It has its origins in the twelfth century, perhaps as early as the Inferno of Dante, in which the vermilion face of Satan chews for all eternity the body of the betrayer, Judas Iscariot. And so, dear Cardinal, in addition to your official labours, you searched for a heretic or worse among your colleagues. To your profound pleasure you found that the man you hated the most, Corelli, was even worse than a heretic.”

“A Jew,” said Spontini with clenched teeth. “It was my Christian duty to fight his presence and to stop him from becoming the next Pope. I am determined to drive him from the Church. He is a converso, who turns the Virgin Mary’s picture to the wall. I have given him ample warning. He hides, however, waiting to return.”

“I suspected as much as soon as I discovered myself the picture of the Virgin Mary, its face to the wall and replaced by a hideously disfigured crucifix. All of this was perpetrated to warn Corelli that he could not remain in the Church, let alone in a high place, unless you approved.”

The Cardinal turned ashen as Holmes spoke, forcefully and with the greatest disdain.

“What is your price?” asked the Cardinal.

“I have none. Your fate lies with the Pope. My suggestion would be, however, that you resign from the Cardinalate and that you lead the rest of your life as a penitent. And of course, neither Cardinal Corelli nor your reluctant mistress, Suor Angelica, is to be harmed in any way.”

I myself was shocked at the latest revelation. Holmes rose, went to the door, and brought in the nun.

“It is through you,” said Holmes to the cringing woman, “that Spontini learned of the picture. It is through you that he was able to enter the Cardinal’s room and plant the crucifix with the vermilion face on the wall, the sign that Christ himself had been transformed into the betrayer, the Jew, Judas Iscariot. You may tell us in your own words why you did these things.”

Suor Angelica looked at the Cardinal with loathing.

“Many good lives have been ruined by this man and his evil ambitions. I am merely one among them. For years he pursued me—since my arrival, in truth. Always Corelli protected me. We were like brother and sister.”

Spontini tried to stop her, but Holmes intervened.

“It all began on Ash Wednesday of this year. I had gone to Saint Paul’s for Corelli to hear my confession. When I was through, I knelt in a pew not far from the confessional to say my prayers. It was then that I noticed a beautiful woman, possibly an Austrian by her beautiful clothes, enter the confessional. She was the last to give a confession. She stayed a long time, but when she came out she said no prayers, but waited for the Cardinal to come forth. They left together.”

She paused to regain her composure.

“I suddenly felt myself seized by an overpowering jealousy. I raced back to the Vatican. I found the Cardinal Corelli already in his room at his desk. I asked him who the woman was. He was taken aback by my question, but in his gentle way he smiled and said, “Just a woman who wanted to talk to me.”

“He then went over to his bed and turned the Virgin’s picture to the wall.”

“I left without a word. The turning of the picture I had seen many times before, but this time I took as a direct affront, since I had given it to him. In my anger I went to this man and told him of the woman and the painting. Because I had described her as an austrica, he laughingly gave her the name of Maria Teresa, which his agents spread through the city. For a brief moment I found solace in his arms. From then on my life became a living hell, with this man threatening me at every turn unless I told him of all of Corelli’s activities.

“On the night of this past Holy Thursday, Spontini and I entered the Cardinal’s room and hung the crucifix on the wall. Spontini applied vermilion to the crucifix and marked the satanic verses in the missal on the desk. Corelli returned. I heard him shout in anger at what he saw in his room. The following morning he left, never to be seen alive again.”

“I shall report to the Pope immediately,” said Holmes. “I shall be lenient with you, Suor Angelica.”

At eight o’clock that evening, a priest dressed in black was seen to enter an osteria near Piazza Rinaldi. The osteria was run by a family from Salerno. The priest, known as