A little stream of light travelled out under the verandah, and fell over the gravel-walk. The Count had taken the lamp from the inner part of the room to see his friend clearly by the light of it.

“Yes!” he said. “ Your face speaks the truth this time. Serious, indeed⁠—as serious as the money matters themselves.”

“More serious. As true as I sit here, more serious!”

The light disappeared again and the talk went on.

“I showed you the letter to my wife that Anne Catherick hid in the sand,” Sir Percival continued. “There’s no boasting in that letter, Fosco⁠—she does know the Secret.”

“Say as little as possible, Percival, in my presence, of the Secret. Does she know it from you?”

“No, from her mother.”