“No more need be done,” answered the second voice. The door opened wide, and the light-haired man with the scar on his cheek⁠—the man I had seen following Count Fosco’s cab a week before⁠—came out. He bowed as I drew aside to let him pass⁠—his face was fearfully pale⁠—and he held fast by the banisters as he descended the stairs.

I pushed open the door and entered Pesca’s room. He was crouched up, in the strangest manner, in a corner of the sofa. He seemed to shrink from me when I approached him.

“Am I disturbing you?” I asked. “I did not know you had a friend with you till I saw him come out.”

“No friend,” said Pesca eagerly. “I see him today for the first time and the last.”

“I am afraid he has brought you bad news?”