The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters:⁠—

“The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!”⁠—he must have looked at it⁠—“one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other”⁠—here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly⁠—“the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us.” And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he went on:⁠—