At this point I lost sight of the trio who rushed outside towards Basso's carriage. "Interesting don't you think", came the calm voice of Hubbard behind me. "What do you make of all of this?", he asked. "What do you mean sir? The poor man must have had a heart attack of sorts", I replied. "One would think so indeed", murmured my mentor now completely lost in thought. The rest of the evening I could not get an answer out of the old man. He did not seem to concentrate on the opera at all and I myself found it difficult to focus on the stage, none in the least since the most spectacular vision of the evening was not in the building anymore.

In a quiet mood and lost in thought we made our way home late that evening. "I do hope you had a good time Jeremy", said Hubbard. "This was not the introduction into opera I had in mind of course but nevertheless I hope you have a better understanding and appreciation for the art form." "Definitely sir, I did enjoy myself tremendously", I said, which was true in fact. "Poor Mr. Basso, I hope he will be alright." "I hope so too Jeremy, but I wonder", Hubbard said in that murmuring voice again. "I'm sorry sir, whatever do you mean?" "Nothing, nothing at all, we could use a good night's rest don't you think?", replied my mentor. After we arrived back in Fleet Street I made directly for my room but noticed that Hubbard went towards the library. This, he has done before and it meant that he could be found the next morning asleep in his chair with a number of books scattered around him. Normally he would exhibit this behavior when he was faced with the delicate dismantling of a particularly complex mechanical device. Human relations have never quite intrigued him enough to warrant an all night session. I can not say that the events of the previous night kept me from having a good night's rest. Quite the opposite in fact, but perhaps that was in part due to the constant apparitions of Ms. Basso in my dreams.

The next morning, before I even had time to make my way to the basin to scrub my face, I was halted by Hubbard who called me from the library where he had not moved an inch since the evening before. "Jeremy I want you to deliver a message to Inspector Davies at Scotland Yard.", Hubbard said. "You mean the same inspector who still remembers the events of the Big Ben?", I asked politely. "The very same and that was quite a while ago, we've become quite good friends since then. I helped him with a number of cases involving mechanical devices used for safe cracking. But never mind that. Here take this and get to Scotland Yard immediately. Ask him to meet me here at his earliest convenience."

With my regular clothes on again I rushed out and rode on the backs of a couple of cabs until I reached the Yard. All of the cabbies were obviously playing Mornington Crescent because I could have been there a lot faster without having to see all intersections to Pall Mall twice. Davies was not in his office, or so I was told and I suspected this was simply a way to get me out of there. After providing the name of my mentor things changed dramatically. I was shown into a large but rather empty office, save for a wall completely filled with crime novels and a large mahogany desk on which a cigar was still burning in an ashtray. There was a lonely chair in the center of the office and having recently learned some rudimentary etiquette I knew not to sit in it until specifically told. "Man, sit down already!", came the booming voice of inspector Davies. "So you're the new pupil then, very good very good. How do you like it so far?" "Very good sir, the work is interesting and I learn a lot", I answered although the comment that there had been others before me surprised me a little. "I am only here to give you this message", I said as I handed Davies the note Hubbard had given me. Davies picked up the cigar, inhaled the smoke contents of a volcano and with a squint took the note. Without taking his eyes off me he opened the folded paper. Only after having made me feel thoroughly uncomfortable did he look down to read. "Your mentor has some strange opinions young Jeremy he has indeed. Not sure what to make of this but I will oblige. Tell him I will see him tonight after dinner in his library. I will arrive the usual way", said Davies not looking up from the paper. Davies was not the only one who was thoroughly confused. What did he mean by opinions and what was 'the usual way'. "Off you go Jeremy, I have work to do and so have you I believe."

During the rest of the day I was thoroughly absent minded. The vision of the Italian girl was constantly on my mind. This did not help sales much and it must have occurred a number of times that I became quite unresponsive. Lady Waterley's maid apparently had to ask for a replacement clock key several times before I gave her the requested item,  instead of a far away smile. There is a good chance that lunch had not occurred that day but I could honestly not say either way. When plagued with visions of an ethereal nature, it is common that the passage of time becomes strangely altered and always on the faster side. It so happened that I found myself still standing behind the counter that early evening while in fact I could have sworn I just got back from Scotland Yard. Helen provided an excellent meal. She made sure we appreciated it by frequently reminding us that her mother made the very same dishes for the Romanov Family. According to our maid, Tsar Alexander II requested the meal quite often. Hubbard was as absent minded as myself and ate his Beef Stroganoff in complete silence. "Jeremy, will you join me in the study after dinner please?", asked Hubbard suddenly during dessert. "If you wish, of course", I replied. The study was of indeed the same room as the library but Hubbard thought it important to make a distinction, depending on what he was going to do there. If we had guests it was the study, if he wanted to read or think it was the library.

A slow drizzle had started outside and the temperature had dipped slightly, providing a good reason to stoke the fireplace a bit higher. As I arrived in the library, I mean study, I was greeted by the sound of a tiny bell. There was no such object to be found and as far as could be heard the sound appeared to have come from behind a wall. Perhaps this was the same ingenious device that had alerted the watchmaker to my attempted break-in not so very long ago. Hubbard immediately got up and hastily went downstairs along the spiral staircase, carefully following the guide with his hand.  He did not go to the front door but instead must have entered the workshop directly below, for I could no longer observe him. The warmth of the fire must have made me drowsy and made me doze off because when I looked up Hubbard was standing next to me talking to inspector Davies. "Did you do as I asked?", asked my mentor of the policeman. "I did indeed, but I have to say I'm not sure I approve of this", replied Davies. "You will see it makes all perfect sense", said Hubbard as he poured some wine for the three of us and waved the inspector to a chair. "I know you've been right about smaller cases involving jewelry heists and such but this is potentially a murder", said Davis, examining his glass. "Not to worry, I will explain everything once the guests have arrived, Jeremy go get us some more chairs." As I left the study to go to my room for some chairs I heard the doorbell ring. "Stay there Davies, I will let them in", I heard Hubbard say as I entered my room. There is one wooden chair and one a bit more comfortable made with heavy faded fabric. Hubbard had it sitting around in the attic and it suited my tastes just fine. The wooden chair went first and I placed it close to the entrance of the alcove after which I returned for the other one. Getting the bigger chair out was a bit more cumbersome and took more effort and a lot more wiggling to get the piece of furniture through the door. When the chair was finally somewhat inside the library close to the fireplace I heard a number of voices ascend the stairs, one of which was all too familiar and made me drop the heavy fauteuil. Davies frowned, having watched the efforts from behind a book he had picked up from the table. 

"Inspector Davies, what a surprise to find you here", exclaimed Count Fosca, "Quel surprise! I hope you're not on business here?" Having cracked what he must have thought was an excellent joke, he congratulated himself by heartily laughing. A laugh that had a slight mephistophelian sound to it. Davies did not say anything and instead sipped from his wine. "Dear young lady, please have a seat by the fire, you must be freezing", said Hubbard. "Yes dear you look frozen to the bone indeed. Davies, get up will you and give the girl your chair", added Fosca. Seniora Basso took the chair next to the fire and warmed her hands ignoring the rest of the ensemble. Again the doorbell rang and Hubbard trundled downstairs, this time to fetch Dr. Roberts, who came in with many comments on the disturbingly cold weather this winter season. "Ah, it is like a small opera reunion in here I see. Good to see you all again. Seniora Basso I hope you will accept my condolences", said Roberts bowing in the young lady's direction. "Thank you doctor, it has been a terrible time. Thank you for your assistance", said Ms. Basso. I leaned over to Hubbard and whispered: "I did not know Basso had died." "Happened today, this morning in fact", said Hubbard in reply, also in a hushed voice. Now in a louder tone he proceeded: "Please sit down, let me get you all some refreshments." As if Helen had been waiting for just this very moment, the Russian made entered the alcove with a tray full of miniature pastries. "Please enjoy these royal treats from the Far East", added Hubbard with Helen beaming behind him. The gentlemen of course waited until Ms. Basso had picked out one of the pastries before moving in on the singularly looking treats. Davies did not partake but Hubbard was carefully examining the wide spread of options.

After more pleasantries had been exchanged and everybody had found a seat,  Hubbard stood up and began pacing. "I have called you all here these evening to discuss and recount the murder of Senior Basso", said the old man now carefully addressing everyone. "Murder? Asked Fosca, surely you are joking!", said the Count staring at Hubbard. "Man what on earth are you talking about", added Roberts. Ms. Basso buried her head in her hands. "See now what you've done Hubbard, that was totally uncalled for", said Fosca moving over to the young girl. Seniora Basso looked up and waved the Count away. "Please continue sir, tell us whatever you feel you have to say", she said in clear English. Inspector Davies put down his wine and turned towards the young woman, "I suggest we all hear what Mr. Hubbard has to offer, he has assisted me in some difficult cases and usually has a clear view of the case." Hubbard had not moved a muscle and with a curious glance in his eyes he continued: "For me the case started when I realized there were simply too many people around the late Senior Basso who had strong interest in his early departure. Even myself. I had to admit that it occurred to me that only getting rid of the tenor would most likely ensure the entrance of his famous watch into the free market. My young apprentice may have had a reason to rid himself of the father of the lovely young girl who he could not approach because he is not of pure Italian stock." I do believe my head was darker than the color of the wine we were drinking. I was not even sure what was worse, being accused of murder or of obviously being infatuated with the Italian girl. Hubbard continued relentlessly: "Roberts of course had a clearly vocalized hatred of the man and his performance, not to mention the motives of the Count, who like myself would like to get his hands on the exceptional watch. Even you young lady had a motive to do away with your father, he leaves behind a rather large fortune, not to mention land and properties in Italy."

Hubbard did not move, he quietly examined his guest's faces. Davies had not averted his gaze from the watchmaker during the old man's speech but was now staring into the fire. "We've definitely never had this approach taught at the Yard", he mumbled. The watchmaker proceeded: "Let us examine the events as we have experienced them. Yesterday evening during intermission the tenor meets up with his daughter in the foyer of Covent Garden. Senior Basso is having a relaxed although loud conversation with his daughter and her let us assume for now: her suitor. Apparently without warning the tenor collapses presumably due to what appears to be heart failure. Doctor Roberts was called for, who assisted the man with his expertise after which he was rushed to the hospital where he died early this morning with his daughter at his side. So far the actual events. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, other than the regrettable premature death of the famous singer. We know Senior Basso took medication for his heart condition, and that is where I started to ask myself: why did the man collapse? If he had taken his medication, as I know he had because we saw his daughter personally go to his dressing room to administer the drugs, then why did his heart fail? Was his heart failure perhaps artificially induced and if so by whom? Here is where things began to get problematic, we all could have had a hand in this tragedy. Basso's maid Maria was the obvious candidate, since we know she administers her master's medicine every day, provided by his caring daughter. Was it the maid who changed the medication for poison, or was it perhaps the daughter herself who wanted to make it appear as if the maid was guilty of this crime? Count Fosca even, could have switched the medication for something more lethal. From knowing the daily performance pattern and his many visits to the opera he would know exactly how to get to the tenors dressing room and did he not leave our box right after us when Ms. Basso went to take care of her father? Let us not forget Dr. Roberts himself. He could have easily injected a lethal dose of medicine without anyone ever knowing it. The man was dying anyway. As you can see, all involved had excellent opportunities to commit this crime, save for myself and my pupil here. We were mere witnesses in the tragedy. "Then who did it, if it was indeed murder?", asked Roberts. "It was murder alright", replied Hubbard. "I asked inspector Davies here to perform an autopsy, which confirmed what I had suspected all along. Senior Basso was murdered by poisoning." Doctor Roberts got up from his chair. "Are you implying I killed him?", he asked.

"Calm yourself doctor, please sit down and hear me out", replied Hubbard calmly. "You see even if indeed you had given the singer a lethal dose that still does not explain how you would know the opportunity would present itself in the first place. How would you have known that the man would collapse in front of you?" Roberts sat down and looked bewildered. "Well come on man, what do you make of all of this?", asked the Count, "How could someone make sure all this would happen?" The watchmaker nodded, "Indeed I have been asking myself that very same question and there is only one simple answer. Basso took his medication before every performance because the excitement combined with exhaustion would otherwise pose a threat to his health. We have assumed so far that the poison was either injected via syringe or given to him as an overdose through his regular medication. What if there was absolutely no medication in the liquid the singer drank that evening, almost certainly causing a problems with his heart right after his first exit, during intermission? The only person who could have done this was you Ms. Basso, the maid received the medication each evening from you. You switched the bottles that evening and handed a vial with pure water to your maid. "How dare you! I did not kill my own father", said Ms. Basso in a quiet and clearly constrained voice. "Who is this man Fosca?", she asked. "Hubbard, if you have any sense at all in your body I suggest you take that back!", hurled Fosca towards my mentor. "I have not finished yet, please hear me out", answered the old man still absolutely calm. "Let us assume for a moment that indeed you replaced your father's medication with water, that does not mean you killed him. We only saw Roberts inject senior Basso." Roberts stood up and shouted at Hubbard: "I did not kill that man and I certainly did not inject an overdose, it was a totally reasonable amount for the circumstances!" Hubbard did not move at all and after a while this became quite unnerving, making the doctor take his seat again.

"Yes that is true", said Hubbard after a long pause, "Basso was killed by poisoning but not from the bottle that contained his medication, nor from the syringe you Dr. Roberts used. In fact Basso was killed by an overdose from a different syringe. "This crime was carefully planned in advance and with great flair I might add. Basso has a predictable heart condition, if he performs an opera and does not take his medication, a good chance exist he will suffer some sort of attack or seizure. It was not important if this was fatal or not as long as something happened. The bottle containing the medication was switched with one filled with harmless water, which was handed to the maid. An excellent diversion since the maid would be accused if there was any kind of suspicion of murder. But this step was only the beginning of a series of events. As we saw Bassos collapse right on cue in the main lobby, Roberts rushes to the poor man and asks for his bag. A bag that Seniora Basso knew would there because the patient Roberts had seen before the opera was none other than the daughter herself, most likely feigning a romantic interest. Roberts as expected treats the patient with medication and calls a cab to get the man to a hospital as soon as possible. Here is where the important event of the evening occurred. Ms. Basso grabs Robert's bag and makes sure she gets a cab for herself and her father. A cab only big enough for two, something also pre-arranged. The doctor and the Count follow in a different cab and get to the hospital with a tenor who by now is a very sick man. His condition is monitored all through the night by nurses and various physicians but the poor man succumbs to the effects of the poison and dies." For the first time Davies stirred in his chair, "How was it done Hubbard? Put and end to this." "Very well inspector, here is what happened after Jeremy and myself watched the four leave", said Hubbard.

"When Ms. Basso drove to the hospital with her sick father, she pulled out a syringe from her voluminous dress and injected her father with the same medication as you had done earlier Dr. Roberts, she administered a far greater and fatal dosage however. She then put the bottle with poison in your bag and waited, simply waited as a good daughter would. "You have no proof, no proof at all I killed him!", shouted the girl, no longer a vision of grace. "I'm afraid I do", replied Hubbard, "Ralph can  you come in here please?" A shabby looking man came into the room holding his hat, looking around nervously. "Ralph here was the cab driver of the carriage that took you and your father to the hospital Ms. Basso. Tell them what you saw Ralph", added the watchmaker. "I was on me cab sir, lashing the horses getting to the hospital fast like. I look down and I see the young miss here pull something from her dress and bend over this sick old man. She injected something I would swear on it", stumbled the cabbie. Seniora Basso got up from her chair and lunged at Hubbard. "I will get you for this!", she screamed. Davies rose from his seat and grabbed the girl by the arms. "If you will come with me please, my men are waiting for you downstairs." Roberts and Fosca watched the whole scene with wide eyes. "I thought she was such a lovely girl", mumbled the Count. "What marvelous temperament", said Roberts with admiration in his voice, "Too bad she's not too scrupulous."

Davies returned having handed over Seniora Basso to two waiting constables. "Nice job Hubbard", said the inspector, "But quite a risk, what if she hadn't fallen for it?" "Exactly what do you mean?", asked Fosca. Hubbard smiled and padded Ralph on the back. "Ralph here is an actor. I asked him to play the part of cabbie. It was a gamble I admit, but it was the only possible solution. Thank you Ralph come by the store tomorrow and we will arrange your reward." The inspector sat down again and whilst stuffing a pipe he asked: "what would you have done if the girl was innocent?" "Simple, blame Roberts of course", replied Hubbard.